“Simon called and said they got stuck in traffic coming back from the Mariners game.” Sarah takes a sip of wine. “He’ll bring her straight here.”
“Poll time,” Cassie says, reaching out to pluck one of my smoked salmon canapes off the platter in front of Sarah. “Is the name ‘friendship salad’ the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard, or the second stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”
Missy frowns. “What would the first be?”
Sarah rolls her eyes and grabs a canape of her own. “How about, ‘I think we’re better off as good friends, don’t you?’”
“Ouch.” Cassie grimaces and gives me a look I recognize as my cue to open another bottle of wine.
I hesitate, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “I take it that’s the big talk Keith wanted to have last night?”
Sarah nods and says around a mouthful of canape, “Yep.”
“Oh, honey.” Missy reaches out and pats her hand. “I know you were hoping he was going to ask you to move in.”
Sarah shrugs and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before I can pass her one of my hand-embroidered linen napkins. “Another one bites the dust.” She picks up her wineglass and takes a fortifying sip. “You guys are sick of hearing about my stupid breakups, and I don’t feel like talking about it anyway.” She pastes on a shaky smile and turns to Cassie. “What were you saying about friendship salad?”
When Cassie hesitates, Sarah gives her a good-natured nudge with her elbow. “I’m serious, I’m fine,” she says. “I don’t want to be that girl who’s always talking about her lousy breakups at girls’ night. So, friendship salad?”
I grab the conversational baton and run with it. “Cassie thinks it’s a dumb name, but I happen to like the idea.”
“I like the idea,” Cassie says. “Just not the name.”
“Spoken by the woman whose contributions look like something pillaged from the crisper drawer in a frat house,” Missy retorts.
Cassie shrugs and bites into a crudité. “What can I say? I’ve been in Baker City all week testing soil pH levels at a former landfill site, and then I spent two days catching up with Simon.”
“I’m not sure we need to know what ‘catching up’ is code for,” Sarah says with a grin. “That’s my boss we’re talking about.”
Cassie flushes with pleasure while I set to work chopping the artichoke hearts I’ve marinated all week in a special blend of lemon, bay leaves, olive oil, and juniper berries. “Anyway, I happen to love friendship salad,” I say. “I adore the idea of all of us contributing something to make a great big salad filled with a little love from everyone.”
Cassie pretends to gag, but I know she doesn’t mean it. Her pores practically ooze love. I’ve seen the way she and Simon make goo-goo eyes at each other when no one’s looking. There’s lust, sure, but also a mix of respect and love and affection that takes my breath away sometimes.
“I want that,” I say out loud.
The three women look at me, then each other.
“The limp carrot?” Missy points and starts to hand it to me, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ll pass on that. I meant— Never mind.”
Hell. I didn’t mean to bring this up. To talk about my growing feelings for Dax. But the way my sisters are eyeing me says they’ll get it out of me one way or another.
“Speaking of limp carrots, how are things with Dax?” Sarah says with a faux casual air.
I give an unladylike snort-laugh and grab a radish off the sideboard. “His carrot is most definitely not limp,” I assure her. “And honestly, it’s more like a late-season zephyr squash or a Costata Romanesco zucchini.”
Missy’s eyes widen, while Cassie busts out laughing and swipes a slice of radish off my cutting board. “I thought you had that look about you.”
“What do you mean?” I demand, swatting her away from my pile of thinly sliced veggies.
“You’re all cheerful and glowing lately,” Cassie says. “Like a woman getting laid well and often.”
Sarah grins and heaves an intentionally dramatic sigh. “Lucky bitch.”
It’s the nicest compliment anyone’s paid me in a long time, and I try not to let it show how pleased I am.
Ever the peacemaker, Missy reaches across the counter to pat Sarah’s hand. “Someday your prince will come.”
