“I never said I was tired of it,” I laugh. “I just don’t know if most guys want it, you know,a few times a day.”
“Stacks is happy with once,” Maddie says, rolling her eyes. “But he lastsforever.Sometimes I’m done way before him and I have to talk dirty just to hurry him along.”
We all burst out laughing.
“And sometimes even that doesn’t work,” she adds, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “so I break out my best moves.”
“Best moves?” Fern repeats. “Please explain.”
Maddie leans in like she’s sharing government secrets. “I give him my arse.”
“No you don’t!” Fern shrieks, laughing so hard she nearly spills her drink.
Maddie nods proudly. “Only way to get him to finish in time for my eight hours of beauty sleep. Hey, don’t judge. It works.”
We’re still cackling when some of the others return from the dance floor.
“We’re trying to set Martha up with someone,” Lucy announces. “But she’s not interested inanyone.”
“She’s shy,” I remind them. “She’s not the type to approach a guy.”
“Darcie saw her chatting with Rabbit yesterday,” Orla says, wiggling her eyebrows like she’s cracked a code.
“Come on, ladies,” I say quickly, not wanting them to embarrass Martha. “She’s not like us. She’ll find someone in her own time. And when she does, we’re going to let her do it her way.”
“She’s a twenty-four-year-old virgin,” Darcie blurts. “That’s not normal!”
“Is that byyourstandards?” Fern shoots back. “Because I know you’ve slept with, what, over a hundred men?”
Darcie laughs. “Maybe I’ve taken Martha’s share.”
“I’m serious,” I say, my tone sharper. “Leave her alone.”
As the president’s old lady, the message lands and they back off immediately.
The night goes far too quickly. We’re having so much fun that by the time we reach the nightclub where Fern booked us a corner suite, we’re all drunk enough to dance rather than risk another round of cocktails.
“I’m having the best night,” I tell Fern over the music.
She hugs me tight. “Good. You deserve it.”
I drop into the booth beside Martha while Fern joins the others on the dance floor. The barman appears with two glasses of something pale and sparkling. He has to shout to be heard.
“We didn’t order,” I yell.
He jerks his chin toward the bar. It’s packed, people three deep, so I can’t tell who he’s indicating to. “He ordered them!” he calls back.
“What?”
“The man at the bar! He got them!”
He sets them down and is swallowed back into the crowd. I shrug and slide one toward Martha.
“Some guy bought us drinks.”
“Good,” she sighs, taking it in one go. “All that dancing has me dying for one.” She kisses my cheek and heads off to rejoin the others.
I pull out my phone, my head swimming harder now.Why am I this drunk?It’s been months since I drank properly because I’m trying to conceive, but I’ve never been this dizzy, this unfocused.
