The problem is when the buzzing starts up in my bra.
“Wha’s tha’?” Otty says against the top of my head.
“Sorry. Work thing.”
“Work?” Hannah steps back. “In your boob?”
“Just hold on.” Turning, with my sisters hovering behind me, I scrabble to grab my phone. If I pull the vibe out now, I will be oh, so busted.
The buzzing ramps up. My sisters crowd me.
I hunch over, typing frantically.
Me: No more. Done. Over. Red. Red. Red.
Immediately, the buzzing stops.
“Who’s texting? Is that Dorothy?” asks Hannah.
“New mean boss guy?”
“No. No, it’s…” I read the text chain and see that instead of the thumbs-down I’d intended to send Grant from my perch on the toilet seat, my fingers had accidentally done a thumbs-up.
Grant: You okay?
Me: Yes. Yes. Sisters. Gotta go.
Grant: Got it, sweetheart. Have fun. I’ll leave you alone.
“It’s a retreat thing.”
“I want to go on your retreat,” says Otty.
Hannah says, “We should do a family retreat.”
I nod and smile, returning my phone to my bra as I lead the way back to the main room. I transfer both electronic devices to my bag the second no one’s looking and take a long sip of wine before returning to my painting.
At the end of the night, woozy from too much wine and way too many orgasms, not to mention my first nonfamily book-nook commission—scary, but yay! I did it!—I stumble out onto the sidewalk with my sisters. We take out our phones only to discover that there’s not a rideshare to be found.
“There was a basketball game tonight.”
“No way,” I say, staring down at the hour-long wait. “I can’t drive like this.”
“Uh-uh,” Otty says, shaking her head. “Not safe.”
My phone buzzes with a new text.
Grant: Everything okay? You have fun?
Me: Yes. But a game just got out. Can’t find a ride.
Grant: You’re at the Paint and Sip? Downtown?
Me: Ya.
Grant: Be right there.
CHAPTER FIFTY
