ughhhh I want a baby so bad
fine.
yes!
The others have yet to arrive at the restaurant, so I lean on the door of my Benz, waiting. Holding my phone to my ear, I chew on my nails while I count the number of rings until my sister picks up.
Pick up. Pick up.
“Joss?” comes Ali’s voice through the line.
The release from the irrational fear that she won’t answer comes fast and hot. “Finally. I hate it when you take more than five rings to answer. What if you were dead?”
“Definitely still living,” she says dryly. “Though with the lack of sleep, it’s more like the living dead at this point.”
I fake laugh. “How’s my niece?”
“She’s okay,” Ali says. “Finally drinking some Pedialyte.”
Ali’s oldest, my nephew Leo, is in third grade and thriving, but her daughter, Rosie, is only fourteen months and suffering from an unfortunate summer case of RSV. Her fevers and low appetite worried Ali enough that she contemplated taking her to the ER, but Rosie bounced back today with a little more energy.
“But seriously. Are you getting any sleep?” I ask.
“Barely.” My sister’s voice is drained. “And Nic’s job is making him work overtime. It’s a rough time in the Sanchez household right now.”
Despite my short white dress, residual heat from the asphalt radiates up, breaking my skin into a sticky sweat, so I head for the restaurant entrance. “She’ll get better. We’re still on for you to come visit, right?”
“Yes. Twenty-seven days. Nic’s mom will take the kids, and it will be glorious. I’ve got a countdown on my phone. So tired of Nashville right now.”
I bounce in my strappy white heels while I walk. “Well, Texas can’t wait to have you. It’s been, like, what? Three months since I’ve seen you?”
“Too long,” Ali agrees.
A wolf whistle catches my attention before I reach the entrance. Ready to tell off some creep, I spin in place, only to find Asher approaching, smiling like the sun.
“There’s my girl.” He weaves through the cars toward me.
“Hey!” I call.
Gray cotton stretches over his chest. New shirt, right? I would’ve remembered this one. It’s... tight.
“Is that Asher?” Ali asks. “You’re having dinner with him?”
“Of course I am. Who else would I be having dinner with?”
“I really don’t understand this whole dating without screwing thing you guys do.”
“We aren’t dating,” I whisper now that Asher is closer. “We’re meeting friends.”
“Yourmarriedfriends?”
I clear my throat. “Well—”
“So you’re double-dating without screwing.”
“Is that your sister?” Asher asks.
“Yeah—”
