“What’s the problem?” Tyler narrowed her gaze. “One of each sounds perfect. Ideal, even.”
Marnie parted her honey-blond curtain bangs with her fingers. “We wanted to have the same thing so our kids could be best friends.”
“They can still be best friends,” Tyler said. “Even better, they might get married one day.” What the fuck was she saying? “Not that they couldn’t get married if they were the same sex, is what I meant.”
“Oh my god, thatisbetter,” Marnie said while the husbands shook their heads, clearly annoyed with their spouses.
“I need a drink,” Tyler said to no one in particular. On the taxi ride over she’d thought about staying sober in solidarity with her friends, but it had been a fleeting consideration at best.
“On it.” Mark whistled, waving down a server.
“What’s new and exciting in the music business?” Heather asked, ever the optimist. But nothing was exciting about babysitting grown-ass men with Peter Pan syndrome.
“Same old.” Tyler shrugged. “Same old.”
A lanky teen appeared out of nowhere—like a Phil Collins drum solo—clutching a golf pencil and a beat-up notepad. “You guys know what you want?”
“Beer,” Hank said curtly.
Mark raised his brow in Tyler’s direction. “Are you in for a pitcher?”
“Have you met me?” she asked, not realizing it was a rhetorical question.
“We’ll have a pitcher, please.” Mark tapped on his gut. “Something light.”
The server jotted down their order. “And for the ladies?”
“We’ll have two Diet Cokes, please. We’re pregnant and I’m driving.” Marnie always had a knack for oversharing. “And nachos with everything.”
“Can you bring a bunch of small plates, please?” Heather added.
“If you could turn up the volume on the TV, that would be great.” Mark pointed to the screen. “The game’s about to start.”
The server scowled at Mark’s jersey and stormed off in a huff.
Tyler could hardly blame him. Wearing that jersey in public was asking for trouble.
Marnie rested her palm on her chin. “Tyler, are youstillnot dating anyone?” Her tone made it seem like it had been a million years but it had only been two, now closer to three.
“Anyone special you’ve got your eye on?” Heather rubbed her hands together, eyes as big as her head.
What was she supposed to say? I’ve been talking to Cary Kingston? You couldn’t go around telling people, especially not in Winnipeg. On the other hand, she didn’t want to lie to her oldest friends, so she shrugged and took a sip of water.
“What does that mean?”Fuck. Marnie didn’t miss a thing.
Tyler chewed on the inside of her cheek, debating what to say.
“So thereissomeone.” Heather gave her a wink. “What does he do for a living?”
Tyler ignored her question.
“Is he a musician?” Marnie asked, her voice judgmental.
Tyler looked at the menu. “I guess.”
There wasn’t any world in which Cary wasn’t a musician. She should have said yes.
“Tyler!” Marnie crossed her arms over her belly. “I thought you wanted a family?”
