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“Hallelujah!” Nora says with a laugh.

Astrid sets the container on the corner of my desk.

“And you swear you didn’t say anything to her about our lunch today?” Astrid asks Nora.

Nora shakes her head. “In the beginning, I considered it and then I decided this roulette wheel of what-will-Astrid-bring-this-time is hilarious.”

Our girlfriend group gets together about every other week for a potluck lunch in our office.

Astrid started joining us a few months ago but doesn’t really cook. So, instead, she just brings whatever her very generous neighbors have recently shared with her.

Initially, Astrid didn’t even really understand that just bringing four zucchinis to a potluck didn’t work. When she brings strawberries or tomatoes, we can definitely use them, but anytime her neighbors share fully prepared food, we all feel like we won the lottery.

It has become a hilarious part of our potluck to see what Astrid will add to our usual offerings.

Nora always brings drinks, I bring sandwich fillings, Everly brings salad—fruit or vegetable or sometimes a little of both—and Andi brings some type of bread she has personally baked. She has definitely improved the longer she has spent in her Cottage Core era.

We don’t share details with each other beyond that, but somehow it always works out.

“What is it?” I ask, reaching for the lid to peek inside the bowl.

“She called it a salad,” Astrid says. “But it’s apples, whipped cream, and Snickers bars.”

Nora laughs. “Ah, Snickers Salad. Yes, Patty has a sister who lives in Iowa, and she has introduced us to what they call dessert salads. They’re pretty freaking good.”

I nod enthusiastically. “I really love the Frog Eye Salad.”

Astrid gives me a wide-eyed look.

“Seriously,” I assure her. “Ask Patty to make you some.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m pretty sure it’s for Declan,” Astrid says. “But he lets me do whatever I want, so I knew I could bring it here.”

Nora shakes her head. “That poor guy.”

But we all snort. That ‘poor guy’ is absolutely obsessed with his wife, and I know he feels that simply being here in Rebel with her, now finally officially living as husband and wife, is worth any other sacrifice he might make. Even giving up Snickers salad.

I close all of my browser windows and put my computer to sleep. Then I head for the refrigerator. I’m going to have to reheat the casserole I brought in batches, so I pull the pan out, dish some into a smaller glass container, and slide it into the microwave to start the process.

Usually, we eat sandwiches. Today the girls are going to help get rid of the casserole that was supposed to go to Brewser and Lawson the other night.

Of course, I couldn’t take the chicken fajita casserole over to them after Lawson caught me making it. That would’ve been a dead giveaway of his stalker’s identity.

So I have to hope that my girlfriends are ready for a very heavy lunch consisting of chicken, onions, peppers, and lots of cheese.

“Holy shit, it smells amazing in here,” Everly exclaims as she and Quinn come through the door a few minutes later.

I have the second batch of casserole reheating, and the rest of the food is laid out on our usual table near the art supply cabinets.

Quinn is also a relatively new addition to our luncheons. She works with Everly in her landscaping business and plays on the hockey team. She, like Everly, is very down to earth and is even more of a tomboy.

The two women who show up in shorts and tanks, needing to scrub literal dirt off their hands and from under their nails before they eat, are a nice balance to Andi’s boho-artist aura, Astrid's boss-lady energy, and Nora’s chaotic sunshiny personality.

We’re all very different, yet we come together as a wonderful group of supportive, funny, and warm friends.

Growing up in this small town, I had lots of friends, but with a small population and very few people moving in or out, your friend group is more or less decided for you the first day of kindergarten. My friends were lovely, but what we had in common was, well, Rebel, Louisiana. There are worse things to have in common, of course. But now as an adult, it’s very nice to have a group of women I’ve chosen, and who have chosen me.

“I brought a casserole today,” I say perkily, needing to sell this as something other than Lawson leftovers.