“I’m kidding.”
“But are you?” Greer asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
I blow out a sigh. “Can we not talk about me and Jett tonight?”
“So thereisa you and Jett!” Greer gasps.
“Yeah, the whole ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ is code for there’s something to talk about,” Julia adds with amusement, scooping a pile of bacon carbonara onto her plate.
Narrowing my eyes, I shoot her a playful and pointed look. “Hey, new friend, who’s side are you on?”
Julia shrugs with a chuckle, twirling the pasta onto her fork.
Abby uses one hand to scoop her food onto her plate like a pro, but I guess with two kids needing her attention, she’s a professional. “Let her have her secrets. We’ve all got them.”
Our heads whip in her direction, but it’s Greer who speaks up. “Everything okay, Abbs?”
“Yes,” she answers as Clem makes soft baby noises as she sucks her tiny fist. “We all have skeletons in our closets and secrets we keep close to the chest.”
“That’s fair,” Saylor says as she reaches for a breadstick.
The teasing dies down as everyone plates their food. I sprinkle Parmesan over my heaping pile of creamy pasta.
“This is so good, Wren,” Julia mumbles around a mouthful. “It’s almost good enough to make me believe in love again.”
Saylor points her fork. “There’s a story there.”
Julia shrugs. “Isn’t there always.”
“Here, here,” Greer adds.
“This is healing food,” Julia praises between bites. “Heartbreak who?”
“I’ll take that compliment. There’s nothing that cheese, carbs, and wine can’t fix.”
Clementine begins to fuss as Abby takes a bite of salad. A piece of lettuce lands on her daughter’s arm and Abby shrugs. “Hazards of the job.”
We share a laugh as Abby tries to soothe her daughter, praying for a moment of peace so she can finish her dinner. When the fussing turns to wails, she asks us, “Mind if I nurse her here?”
“God, of course not. Make yourself at home, mama.”
She unbuttons her dress with one-handed precision, guiding her daughter to latch. The baby takes hold, settling instantly as the sound of suckling fills the room.
Saylor sets her fork down, eyes softening as her voice cracks. “Every time I see that, I think—wow. Women are literal superheroes.”
“Damn right,” I agree, raising my glass. “To women keeping everyone alive.”
We all clink glasses, the candlelight catching the white wine like liquid sunshine.
“Makes me want one,” Saylor adds quietly.
“Really?” Greer whips her head to her side. “Is there a love interest we don’t know about?”
“Please,” Saylor grumbles, stabbing a piece of lettuce and ripping it off her fork between her teeth. “My love life is as dry as the Sahara.”
“You’re young, babe. Put yourself out there,” I encourage, taking a sip of my wine.
“Is that how you and Jett ended up having hate sex on your living room floor?” Greer questions, smirking around her wineglass.
