Come meet us at happy hour this afternoon!
Melinda’s eyebrows rose. “I’m firing you.”
Gwen’s entire body went stock-still. “Wh-what?”
“Just for the afternoon. Go away. Get out of my sight,” Melinda said. “Go to happy hour with your friends.”
“Oh, they’re actually just my wife’s friends,” Gwen said, cheeks heating with relief and embarrassment.
“Go. Or I really will fire you,” Melinda said, pushing Gwen’s phone toward her with perfectly manicured nails. “And I want a picture for proof or I’m putting you on a PIP.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “You can’t do that. That’s a workplace lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Melinda quirked an eyebrow. “I can, and I will.”
And judging by Melinda’s tone, Gwen didn’t want to push further.
Gwen pulledup to the brewery wearing the wrong outfit — tailored trousers, a button-up, and the wrong shoes for gravel. The late-afternoon sun was still warm despite the crispness in the air. Denver in late summer: blue skies, brown grass, and a patio full of people sweating in flannel while pretending to enjoy IPAs.
She spotted them immediately at a long picnic table under a yellow umbrella. Izzy waved, already halfway through a pint, her laptop still open next to Pete’s. Kiera sipped something in a plastic cup and looked pleasantly exhausted, hair pulled into a loose bun and a lanyard still around her neck. Danica arrived just after Gwen, still in scrubs, pulling her hospital badge off her top.
The group seemed already mid-conversation, laptops pushed aside for now. Gwen gave a nervous wave.
“Look what the wind blew in,” Izzy said, standing to give Gwen a one-armed hug. “You clean up nice.”
“I came from work.”
“What a nice surprise,” Kiera said, next in line for a hug.
Izzy smirked. “Your aura is very ‘competent lesbian in charge of zoning laws.’”
“Close enough,” Gwen said, sitting down at the end of the bench. Her back tensed automatically — these weren’t really her people. They were Maggie’s.
Danica leaned in to give her shoulder a squeeze. “I’m so happy we stalked you victoriously.”
“Want a beer?” Pete asked, standing from the table.
“I’ll take anything normal,” Gwen said with a tight smile.
“Define normal,” Danica said.
“Nothing sour, pink, or bitter.”
“Wise words to live by,” Izzy joked, nodding. “Grab her the honey wheat.”
“Sounds perfect,” Gwen confirmed.
“Wait, wait, you can’t leave us hanging.Whatwas the culprit of the weird smell in your car?” Izzy asked, turning back to Pete.
“A fermented juice box,” Pete said with a frown. “I think it must have been Quinn’s.”
Gwen cringed. “One time I found Rosie’s bottle of milk under the front seat way too late. I swear it was sentient and begging for death.”
Kiera shook her head. “That is a smell that really stays with you.”
Pete and Danica took everyone’s beer orders and went inside.
Kiera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay. We need to talk bachelorette plans.”
