Ralph eyes Paul, then they burst into laughter.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re so wife’d,” Paul answers through his laughter.
“What the hell is that?”
“She has you picking up strawberries and taking her places,” Paul explains, grinning knowingly. “Wife’d.”
I roll my eyes at the noun turned into a verb. “She’s just a friend, guys.” Technically, it’s true.
“Sure, sure,” Ralph says, placating me. “We’ll see you in a couple days for that beer.” He and Paul get into Paul’s car and drive away.
After I pull Louisa’s Jeep into the garage, I park the truck in a parking spot designated for guests and head for the main house to return Louisa’s keys.
Knowing Addison is in there has my heart beating just a little faster than normal.
A little too fast for someone who’s just a friend.
16
Addison
I wastwo seconds away from canceling on Charlie, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Girl time was something I didn’t know I was missing until I arrived and met Charlie’s friends. They’re nice and funny, and the conversation that started out polite is deepening with the aid of a glass of wine. And getting raunchier too.
My life doesn’t look anything like theirs right now, but I can follow along and appreciate the drama that comes with kids and a husband and all the trappings of domestic life.
So far, I’ve decided that Amanda, the loudest of the bunch, is the de facto leader. Her voice is husky, and she has a sarcastic, sharp wit, which she gears mostly toward herself. To her friends, she’s supportive and funny.
Samantha is less exuberant, and she seems happy to let Amanda have the spotlight. She’s a little crunchy too, based upon her recipe for a homemade stretch mark cream that she gave to Liz, who just had a baby three months ago and is probably going to be the first to bail because she looks exhausted.
And, of course, there’s Charlie. She’s sipping a mocktail, something bubbly and pink the bartender put together for her. She smiles at me as she takes a drink, then squints her eyes, her forehead coming forward slightly. I can tell she’s asking if I’m doing okay in this group of women I hardly know, and I give a small nod, my eyes flicking over to the person who’s talking.
“I’ve had two kids on the tit for what feels like longer than the Queen’s been on the throne, and now that the last one is weaned, Jacob thinks it means I’m open for business again.” Amanda, the only brunette of the group, makes a horrified face and motions toward her chest. “I don’t want anyone touching the girls again for at least two years.”
“Just be happy you have tits,” Samantha declares, the corners of her mouth turning down. She runs a flattened palm down her front, as if running it along a wall. “Mine are gone. Gone!”
“Why?” I ask, unable to comprehend how boobs just disappear.
With her wine glass poised at her mouth, Amanda says, “Because she met Rory and let him put his penis in her. Now she’s paying the price with deflated balloons.”
I press my lips closed to keep from spitting out the sip of wine I’ve just taken.
Charlie’s laughing so hard she starts coughing.
Samantha gives Amanda a side-eye. “You let Jacob poke your hole and you kept your boobs.”
“That’s what happens when you have fauxbs,” Amanda responds.
We all stare at her. “What are fauxbs?” Charlie asks.
It clicks in my head just as Amanda says, “Faux boobs. Fakies. Breast implants,” she says, reluctantly using the medical term with a face that conveys how much of a drag we all are that we forced her to say it.
“Oohhh I want to see them,” Samantha squeals.
“Me too,” Liz pipes up. Dark circles sit below her lower lashes, but now her eyes are brightened by her piqued curiosity.
“Let’s go,” Amanda says, inclining her head toward the ladies’ room.
