“Thursday night,” Grace answers. “Before your guys’ game. We’re going to pick her up before heading to the stadium.”
As the girls continue talking about Sutton’s arrival, I sink back into my chair, my mind churning as a plan starts to form. It looks like I have a second chance to convince her to accept myproposal, and this time, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she says yes.
First, though, I need to be better prepared. Even a fake engagement needs a diamond to seal the deal.
Looks like I have a little shopping to do.
CHAPTER TEN: ALL TOGETHER
SUTTON
Snaggingmy suitcase off the baggage claim carousel, I turn and rush out the airport exit and into the cold Denver air. I check my phone to make sure the girls are still coming and haven’t been rerouted by airport security because they’ve been idling in the pick-up lane for too long. For a moment, I regret not just taking my parents’ private jet. I only really use it when I’m with them, but usually I try to be a little normal when I travel on my own.
It’s moments like this, though, that I think that being “normal” is highly overrated. My plane was slow in letting me and the other passengers off because ice on the tarmac was backing up the traffic, so the girls have been waiting for me longer than we’d planned. I hate when people are waiting for me. I usually try to get places as early as possible, but you really can’t control certain aspects of air travel, especially passenger flights.
Just as I’m getting stressed, a sleek black Audi moves toward me. As soon as it parks, Rylee jumps out of the back passenger’s side door, a flurry of blonde hair and a vision in a wide-legged black jumpsuit with a gold chain around her waist, highlighting her small baby bump.
“Sutton!” she exclaims, opening her arms for me to run into. Grace and Skyler jump out of the vehicle, and they join the hug. We all jump up and down in total delight, laughing.
“We’re so happy you’re here!” Grace declares excitedly, her dark brown ponytail swinging behind her and blue eyes sparkling.
“I am too.” I adjust my messenger bag’s strap on my shoulder and look around. “Let’s load up my luggage and get out of here. I’m just about peopled-out when it comes to strangers for the time being.”
“You got it, sweetcheeks,” Skyler nods, then winks behind her black-framed glasses. She’s wearing a t-shirt with an image of Ghostface from theScreamfranchise, holding his hand up next to his face like a phone, the words “Call Me” printed below him.
“We’ve got enough time before the game that we can swing by and visit Stacey,” Grace says as she helps me put my stuff in the trunk. “You can meet Henry!”
“Yay!” I clap my hands, thrilled by the news. “I’ve been obsessing over the pictures Stacey has been sending of the little guy. I’d love to meet him in person.”
“He’s the sweetest,” Skyler gushes, while we climb into the car. “He’s got the squishiest cheeks and his little chubby baby toes are so fucking cute!”
“Oh, I can’t wait!”
Of all the girls, I’ve known Stacey for the shortest amount of time, but sometimes I forget that we haven’t been friends for years already. Rylee, Grace, Skyler and I have known each other since college, and for a long time, I thought our little foursome was all but perfect. Now, though, all of us are so close, I can’t imagine my life without any of them.
Finally, we hit the road. As we drive to Stacey and Owen’s new house, the girls fill me in on what’s been happening intheir lives. When we arrive at Stacey’s, I smile at the adorable two-story Victorian that’s painted a soft sage with creamy white trim. The wrap-around porch curves from the front door and disappears along the side of the house and slender columns hold up the roof, with delicate gingerbread trim along its edge. The front door is solid and heavy with an oval of beveled glass set into it that catches the light and scatters it in soft prisms.
“Wow,” I say, getting out of the car once we’ve parked in the driveway. “This place is beautiful. The architecture?—”
“Again with the architecture,” Rylee giggles, nudging me. “Yes, weknowyou’re an architect.”
“She’s right, though,” Grace says with a grin, popping the trunk of her car. We collect the groceries and baby gifts the girls had picked up before getting me. “It’s just, like, picture-perfect, isn’t it? I mean, you can totally picture it on a postcard or something, I think.”
“No one sends postcards anymore,” I tell her.
“Not true!” Skyler exclaims, shutting the trunk. “I fucking love postcards.”
“When was the last time you sent one?” I ask.
She purses her lips thoughtfully as we make our way up to the front door.
“Okay, point taken,” she mutters. “But now I’m going to bombard all you bitches with so many postcards, I will single-handedly save the industry from demise.”
“Pursue your passions,” Rylee says. “Even if they are completely ridiculous.”
Grace presses the doorbell.
The door opens a second later and Owen is standing in the doorway, beaming at us. Every other time I’ve seen Owen, he’s been cleanshaved and his dirty blonde hair cut short on the sides, all slick and cool looking. Right now, he’s sporting some significant stubble and his hair has grown out a bit. There arealso bags under his eyes. It’s fun to see the difference — that’s what parenting a newborn does to you. Or so I hear.
