“I regret calling you.”
“No, you don’t.”
I didn’t.
That was annoying.
Lena leaned closer to the camera. “Are you going?”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“The fanciest thing I own is a Walmart clearance rack sundress and sandals I think I wore to graduation. It has little blue flowers on it and one strap that keeps twisting. That is not appropriate for an MC royalty wedding, whatever that even means.”
“What do you wear to those things?”
“Damn if I know. Leather? Diamonds? Bulletproof chiffon?”
“Desert black tie sounds like rich people invented sweating.”
“Exactly.”
Lena laughed, then sighed and flopped back against her pillows. Hank snorted behind her. “Life here sucks, by the way.”
I shifted, surprised by the sudden change. “Work?”
“Work is fine. Boring. Same people. Same overpriced smoothies. Same guys on Tinder with wedding ring tan lines they try to hide with self-tanner.”
I stared at the screen. “That’s a thing?”
“That is absolutely a thing. They bronze the finger.”
“No.”
“Yes. One had a pale stripe and a slightly orange knuckle. Like a cheating traffic cone.”
I laughed so hard I nearly spilled coffee on the couch. “That is horrifying.”
“It’s the new thing. Wedding-ring ghosting. Literally. There’s always a haunted finger.”
“Please never date again.”
“I keep trying not to, but then I get bored and make poor choices with men named Chad who own paddle boards.”
“This is why you need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies. Judging men is a hobby.”
“Fair.”
She went quiet for a second, eyes flicking offscreen toward Hank, who had rolled onto his back with all four paws in the air. “When’s this wedding?”
“Saturday.”
“This Saturday?”
“Yes.”
