“Why do we as women do this to each other?” I groan, sitting back on Felicity’s bed while she packs a suitcase for a weekend trip to her family’s lake house. “I mean, I realize it’s easy to misconstrue someone’s tone in an email, but I can totally hear the bitchiness in this email.”

“Oh, for sure. She surpassed bitchy the second she CC’d Levi on the email with the quotes you requested. What’s her name again?”

“Chelsea.”

Felicity snaps. “Didn’t we go to school with a Chelsea?” She stops folding the tee in her hands to think. “We did! And she was a bitch, too! It’s not the same one, is it?”

I shake my head.

“Maybe it’s an omen of the name.”

“We’ll cross that option off the baby list,” I say.

She nods emphatically, then takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. I know I can get judgey, too, sometimes, and I hate it.”

“Right? I know. We always say this.”

“We’ve improved a lot. Pregnancy taught me to be humble. People wearing sweat pants and slippers to the grocery store get no judgement from me. I’ve been there. I was that person last week, in fact.”

My stomach rolls I’m laughing so hard. “Maybe I said or did something to offend her?” I sigh, my mood quickly shifting. “You know it’s because of Levi. She likes him. Maybe I glared at her when she was flirting or acted like a snob first.” I release another long sigh. “Speaking of being rude, I need to make amends with this lady at work. I totally offended her a couple of weeks ago, and I still haven’t said or done anything about it.”

“You can’t control the way people interpret everything or force yourself to walk on eggshells if people are sensitive.”

“I know, but I was being passive aggressive. I need to own up and apologize.”

Felicity looks up from where she’s shuffling her belongings from the white purse of Catherine’s I brought home for her to a larger purse—one I’m sure she won’t spill tears over if it gets sand and food on it. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’m not. I just don’t want to be a hypocrite.” I scoot back farther on the bed, reaching for the pile of kids’ clothes that needs to be folded, and hit the corner of a book. “What’s this?” I ask, uncovering it. “How to Manage Three.” I look at my best friend, who’s dutifully ignoring my stare.

“I don’t want to hear anything.”

“No, I’m proud of you for finally admitting that you’re pregnant. But it was a waste of money to buy this book. You know Grammy will buy you a dozen more like it as soon as you share the news.”

Felicity giggles. “I saw your new pile of books.”

I roll my eyes. “Remind me to add those to that box of stuff for the donation center.”

“You know, some of these books are really good. Some are even written by doctors.”

“I didn’t say anything. You can read your book.”

“You’re judging.”

I raise my hands, my eyes wide. “I didn’t say anything,” I repeat

“You didn’t have to!” She flings a shirt at me, hitting me in the face.

“I just don’t understand why you’re reading a how-to book when you already know how to parent.”

“Because three will be new.”

“I know, but taking the advice from one person who has a completely different situation than yours and trying to apply that to your life just seems kind of silly to me.”

Felicity resumes folding more clothes that she deposits into the suitcase.

“If everyone paid less attention to what others were doing and more attention to their own lives, I think we’d all like each other and ourselves a lot more because we wouldn’t all be competing with each other.”

“This isn’t about competing. I just want to make sure I’m ready.”

I shrug. “Just make sure you’re preparing yourself for what you need, not what they’re telling you that you need.”

“Is this why you won’t date Levi yet? Because I’ve been telling you to? Because I’ll stop. Hell, I’ll even try reverse psychology.”

I laugh. “I already told you—after the grand opening, I’ll ask him out.”

She nods once. “Time can’t go fast enough.”

“It can,” I tell her. “I have a rehearsal dinner tomorrow, wedding Saturday, and Sunday I’m going to Grammy’s again. I need more time.”

“You’re going to Grammy’s again? Is she doing okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. I think she’s worried about me. Plus, I think she gets lonely.”

Felicity sets down the shirt she’s folding. “Books, your heart is so big. Don’t forget to take care of you in your quest to take care of everyone else, okay?”

“I thrive off deadlines and caffeine, remember?”

She laughs. “Maybe take Monday off? You could book a spa day and relax.”

“I’m too cheap to go to the spa.” I fold more clothes to make up for distracting her from her task. “Stop rolling your eyes at me,” I tell her. “It’s expensive!”

“Sometimes it’s good for you to splurge on yourself. Stop saving all your pennies for an apartment of your own. I’ve already told you that you can stay here as long as you want.”

“I know, but it’s been a few months already! You’re going to have another baby, and you’re going to need that room.”

“Theo and Gemma still sleep in here. I have two more bedrooms. We don’t need the fourth bedroom. Not for another eighteen years or so when I finally convince my kids to sleep in their own rooms.”

“We’re not arguing about this. We both knew me moving in was going to be temporary.”

“Then let’s argue about you going to the spa.”

“Let’s argue about how many clothes you’re packing. Woman, you’re only going to be gone for four days! Why are you packing the entire house?”

A scowl cinches the skin between her eyes. “How about a neutral topic? The wedding this weekend.”

I release a sigh. “I’m so glad it’s almost over. I’ve been working on this Bellum wedding for over a year, and the end is finally in sight.”

“I really need you to take as many pictures as possible. Maybe we can get some inspiration for the kids’ Halloween party this year.”

Giggles bubble through my lips, and I close my eyes. Though I know staying here isn’t permanent, I’ll miss these simple moments we’d stopped experiencing years ago because our time together for so long was always so brief we strived to make the most of every second. These moments—the simple, real, honest moments without expectations or a mile-long list of things we want to discuss because we haven’t seen each other in too long—are the ones I’m learning are truly the best.

I sit in my car for a moment, preparing myself to head into the reception. The Bellum wedding was flawless, and though I’d worried about the black candles burning and so many lights being dimmed, I was impressed with how beautiful it turned out, albeit a little strange.

My phone vibrates from the recesses of my purse, and I fish it out, sure it’s going to be Felicity or Catherine, both of whom I’ve sent dozens of pictures to.

My smile grows wider when I see it’s a call from Levi.

“Hey.”

“All right, time to come clean. Tell me—what kind of mythical creature are you?”

“A mermaid. Blame the pollution of Lake Erie.”

“That makes sense. I need to know how you hide your tail so well.”

A smile stretches my cheeks. “It’s magic. How’d you discover my secret identity?”

“Because I just received a text from Jeff. He showed me a picture of the bar, and they’re nearly done. I don’t know how you did it. I’ve threatened them with lawsuits. Offered bribes. Pretty much everything short of selling my soul, and nothing has motivated them.”

“Are you assuming I must be a mythical creature in order to accomplish something you couldn’t?”

“Touché. Touché. I’m going to slowly back away and try to pry my foot from my mouth…”

“Wise decision.”

He chuckles. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I thought you were working on getting your foot out of your mouth?”

His chuckle becomes a laugh. “Well, whatever you did, I owe you. I owe you big-time. I was positive this was going to go belly-up.”

“I was just doing my job. You have to think positive. How are things going with your dad?”

“Infuriating. Exasperating. Annoying the hell out of me.”

“No end in sight?”

He sighs. “Not yet. We see a specialist on Monday, but they won’t let him fly until we confirm there isn’t a blood clot.”

“Well, don’t worry about things here. I have everything covered. You saw that email from Chelsea, right?”

“Did you see my reply?”

“Not yet. When did you send it?”

“Right before I called you.”

“Oh, no. Sorry. I was at a wedding ceremony. I actually will need to get going here in a minute. I’m at the reception now.”

“Those are exciting plans for a Saturday night.”

“I live on the wild side, what can I say? Although, this one is kind of wild. It’s a gothic wedding. I’m about to swim in skulls, black candles, and black silk.”

“Skulls?”

“They actually mellowed things down a bit. This might be one of my favorite weddings just because it’s so memorable. It is surprisingly romantic for how dark it all is.”

“Want to snag one of the skulls and hang it above the sink at the new bar? That way I can warn anyone that if they pile dishes inside, their head will hang beside it.”

“Hard-ass.”

His deep chuckle makes my belly warm. “Oh. So many puns and so little time. I hope the reception goes well. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

There’s nothing I need to discuss with him tomorrow, but I don’t argue.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I hope you and your dad get some rest.”

“He’s fine. He’s watching stocks and yelling at people. It’s what gives him his late-night thrills.”

“Well, then you try to rest.”

“You, too. Bye, Brooke.”

I hang up, leaning my phone against my chest, hearing the timbre of his voice say my name again and again and again.

“Dammit.” I slap the counter, staring at my reflection. The Bellum wedding kept me up until after 2 a.m., and I spent all of Sunday being lazy at Grammy’s. We played cards, watched an old movie, and had a late supper before I made my way to Felicity’s, where the house was still empty. I decided to heed her advice and take Monday off and primp after I received a text from Levi telling me that they went to the hospital and did an ultrasound and that he was coming home on Tuesday. Grammy has worn her hair the same way since I was born. She’s never colored it. She doesn’t wear makeup or heels. She doesn’t even paint her fingernails. Felicity was my source for learning all things “girly.” She taught me how to use eyeliner and braid hair. What kind of bra to wear so it didn’t look like I had two small cones under my shirt. We learned to walk in heels while parading through her bedroom, and her mom taught us how to make makeup look natural. My job requires me to look put-together, so my clothes are always stylish, my nails are always clean, and a thin layer of makeup hides my lack of sleep. However, primping has never been something I’ve indulged in.

Fingernail polish is around my nailbeds on both my fingers and toes, my hair looks as though a cow has licked my head, and my shoulders are tighter than they were when I began this day of planned relaxation.

The music playing over the speaker of my phone ceases as a call comes through. I look at the screen to see Serena’s name and sigh. “Hello?”

“Brooke?”

“Hi, Serena.” I work to sound friendly, recalling my ode to apologize to her.

“I’m so sorry to call you on your day off, but I have a problem with the Gilbert wedding.”

“It’s no problem. What’s going on?”

“The bridesmaids’ dresses arrived today, and they’re orange.”

“Orange?”

“I know,” Serena says, hearing the shock in my voice. “It’s not an offensive orange per se.”

“Is there a good orange when it comes to bridesmaid dresses?” I swipe a hand over my face. “When are they supposed to be picking them up? Did you call the designer? Has anyone else seen them?”

“The designer claims that’s what we ordered.”

“Okay.” I tilt my head back and take a deep breath, considering the ways we can fix this. “This is what we’re going to do: let’s go to the designer’s office with the samples. I still have them in my desk drawer. Can you do me a favor and—” I pause, seeing my reflection. “Shit,” I sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My hair.” I clamp my fingers over my eyes so I don’t have to see the greasy mess that is my hair. “I tried to deep-condition my hair this morning, and the oil isn’t washing out. I’ve washed it three times.”

“What did you use?”

“Coconut oil.”

“Mmmmmm.” Her tone makes it clear I made a mistake.

“Please don’t tell me I have to wait for it to go away. Tell me this can be fixed.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. You just need to wash it with some clarifying shampoo.”

“Clarifying shampoo?”

She laughs. “If you will help me with this, I will bring you some clarifying shampoo.”

“Oh my gosh, yes. I will fix it. I swear. Just make my hair look normal—I don’t care if it’s dry, just not … this.”

Serena’s laugh fades, and I give her my address before hanging up and sorting through my closet for an outfit to change into once my hair is washed.

When the doorbell rings, I’m ready to wrap my arms around Serena and hug her. “Wow,” she says, looking at my hair. “How much did you use?” Once again, her hair is perfect. The coloring, the style, everything.

“Apparently, too much.”

Her lips teeter as she struggles not to laugh. “This will get you all fixed up.” She shoves a bottle of blue shampoo into my hands. “And I brought you some coffee.”

Guilt ratchets higher in my chest. “You didn’t have to. That was really kind. Thank you.”

She shrugs, looking almost shy. “I feel bad for yelling at you that day in your office.”

“No. I feel bad. I shouldn’t have… I don’t even remember what I said, but I wasn’t being thoughtful or trying to help, and I’m sorry.”

Serena crinkles her nose. “You were right. I have no idea what I’m doing. I thought I could come in here and it would be no problem, but everything about this is so different than my previous job. I feel like I spend all day chasing my tail in circles, and then I see you with a workload twice as large as mine, and you just hammer through it. I don’t understand.”

“You also have a boyfriend, a life outside of work, and really great hair. Right now, I’m struggling to have a semblance of a life outside of work. Trust me, you don’t want to become anything like me.”

She smiles, her eyes rounding. “I had no idea you were single. You should meet my boyfriend’s best friend. He is delicious and responsible, and did I mention delicious?” She reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone. “Let me show you a picture. Seriously, if I had known you were single…”

I place my hand atop hers. “Let’s focus on getting my hair back to its normal state of boring, and then we can discuss Mr. Delicious on our way back into the city. Is that okay?”

Serena shakes her head. “No. Step one of having a life outside of work is making sure you live in the moment. This will take literally two seconds.” She skims through her phone and then stops and tilts her phone toward me. The man on the screen is wearing a cutoff shirt, his biceps pronounced and bronzed. His head is shaved, and his eyes appear friendly.

“He’s handsome.” But he’s not Levi.

“Right?”

“But … I’m kind of…” I search for the right excuse, drawing a blank when the truth bounces free. “I’m sort of seeing someone. It’s really new though.”

Her smile doesn’t dim with me rejecting the blind date. “I thought you might be. You’ve been extra smiley lately at work.”

“I have?”

Her lips purse together as she nods. There’s something about Serena and her infectious energy and happy mood that reminds me of a puppy. “You have. Okay, you go shower, and then we’ll get this taken care of.”

“How orange are they?”

She cringes. “If we add enough light, they might look yellow.”

I groan. “We should have talked her out of yellow. I swear, all it does is make people’s skin and teeth look discolored.” I sigh another deep breath. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right down.”

I wash my hair twice with the blue shampoo and am relieved to discover it doesn’t feel greasy when I rinse it. I quickly dress and pull my wet hair up before applying enough makeup that I can manage to look professional before walking into a dress designer’s store to confront them with making a mistake.

“You have a really beautiful home,” Serena says when I take the final step down to the foyer.

“It’s not mine,” I tell her, slipping on a red heel. “I’m just staying here temporarily.”

She hands me the cup of coffee she brought, silent questions etched across her features. I redirect her to the front door to prevent them from being voiced and follow her to her car.

“Who was the designer for these?” I ask, pulling one of the dresses out so I can see the color.

“Maya.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Maya made this mistake? Wow. Okay, let’s go.”

“Do you know her?”

I nod. “Thankfully, I do. This might be an easy win for once.”