Peyton from next door smiles as I turn to face her. “You look different,” she comments as I start her order. Iced caramel latte is her poison. She stops in at least once a day for one.
“She slept with a man last night,” Laken whispers. Peyton’s jaw drops, nearly bouncing off the floor.
Rolling my eyes, I hand her the drink. “We didn’t have sex.” I keep my voice low.
Laken rolls her eyes this time. “You should have.”
“Your hormones are out of control,” I snap back at her.
“Oh! Speaking of which, I brought you these.” Peyton hands Laken a small bag filled with cookies.
“Sugar-free?” Laken squeals when Peyton nods. “You are the absolute best.” Reaching across the counter, she pulls Peyton in for a hug. The young woman’s eyes widen because she’s not used to such enthusiasm. When it comes to personal relationships, she’s introverted and insecure, but when she’s in her store, helping her customers, she’s so outgoing. Peyton is hands-down one of the kindest people I know, but she can be a bit confusing.
“Oh! You know what? I say the three of us do a girls’ night. Dinner, drinks, dancing. There’s this cute little place downtown that I saw on my last OB appointment.” Laken’s eyes alight with excitement as she says this.
“Firstly, you can’t drink.” I look pointedly at her belly. “Secondly, Peyton isn’t old enough to drink.” And I don’t have a thirdly to get myself out of it.
“Could Hope come too? She doesn’t get out much. I don’t think she minds, actually. Her husband is kind of obsessed with her. Especially since the babies.” Peyton’s hopeful question has me saying yes. There’s no way I can turn either of these girls down.
“Yes!” Laken practically screams. Lord, she is a whole new woman from the first time I met her. Hale and Jesse have been the best thing to ever happen to her. “We’ll all meet at Ophelia’s at six?” Her head bobs like she’s answering for us.
“Fine. Six at my place.” My reluctance is contradicted when I give them a bright smile.
By closing time, my feet are killing me, my back is in some serious need of an adjustment, and all I want is to either soak in a hot bath or crawl between the sheets with Torque again. Because sleeping with him? It was like having my own furnace. He kept me warm, and for once, I didn’t wake up coated in sweat from a nightmare. I’ve never felt more peaceful than I did in his arms.
But as I walk home, my phone dings with a text from Peyton, asking if I’m sure about tonight and Hope coming along. Of course, I’m sure. Especially now that she’s concerned about it.
Rushing through a hot shower to help soothe some aches, I quickly pin my mess of curls on my head and slip into a flowy dress that I don’t get to wear often. The thick straps cover my shoulders, the bodice is tight but not indecent, and the skirt billows out just below my butt cheeks and reaches my knees. It’s cute but respectable with just a hint of sexy.
As I slip my two-inch wedge sandals on, I hear the doorbell and immediately recognize that it’s Laken because it rings three more times. She has zero patience lately, and I think it has a lot to do with the bun in her oven.
I know she’s excited to give birth, but I can also tell she’s terrified. Her past seriously screwed her up, and no matter the assurance Hale gives her, she’s still afraid but valiantly tries to hide it.
Opening the door, I’m greeted by her exclaimed, “Wow.” Her eyes flitter around my dress as she comes inside.
“Is it okay?” I’m suddenly self-conscious about it. I don’t get to wear many girly things because of the coffee shop, but I do like them.
“Is it okay,” she scoffs. “It’s perfect.” Dragging her phone from the pocket of her romper dress, she snaps a photo.
“Who are you sending that to?” Though I already know the answer.
“Torque, of course. He’d love this on you.” She is determined that we hit it off. I believe we already have. A minute later, my own phone dings.
Hot Firefighter: Did I miss plans for a date tonight cause you are smokin’.
I roll my eyes at his corny joke. I kind of love it.
Me: Girls’ night.
Hot Firefighter: That’s too bad. You’re dressed too sexy for a taken woman.
Biting my lip, I debate my response before settling on one word.
Me: Taken?
Hot Firefighter: Fuckin’ very taken. You slept in my bed last night, Philly, you’re off the market.
“He is so like his brother,” Laken giggles as she reads the texts over my shoulder. “You need to play with him a little,” she encourages, and I have a feeling I’ll be paying for it later.
Me: Hhmm it’s been two dates, didn’t know that meant commitment…
Lord, I wouldn’t mind it, though.
Me: Gotta go, girls are here.
Adding in a couple of kissy faces, I go to pocket the phone when I notice he’s sent a final message.
Hot Firefighter: You’re playing with fire Philly.
“Ohhhh, he’s totally going to make a very public claiming now,” Laken says, grinning ear to ear as she greets Peyton and Hope.
Grenadine is every bit as swanky as Laken described. It’s the perfect blend of intimate atmosphere in the restaurant and hopping club on the dance side. With a mix of fusion-style foods, we order an assortment of appetizers that the four of us share. I’m more drawn to the spicy Thai bites than any of the others.
As another round of drinks is delivered—virgin white peach bellinis, this time—the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I get the feeling of being watched. Spinning around, I search for the source of my contention, but nobody stands out.
“Everything okay?” Hope, sitting beside me, asks, stress lining her face.
Scrunching my nose, I don’t wish to worry her or the other girls, but I can’t shake the feeling. “I’m not sure. It feels like someone is watching me, but maybe I’m being silly.”
“Do you want me to call Reed?” Her hands fidget with the stem of her glass.
Draping my hand over hers, I reply, “It’s fine, Hope. I promise.” Pasting on my best smile, pushing the bothersome thoughts away, she nods at my reassurance and relaxes again.
From Peyton, I’ve learned that Hope struggles with reading emotions, so she feels the need to be alert all the time. Ignoring the sensations crawling up my spine, I take a sip of my drink, savoring the sweetness before grabbing a carrot stick and dipping it in the bowl of Santa Fe ranch in the middle of the nearly empty platter.
“Shall we dance?” Laken asks, practically wiggling out of her seat.
With our food being mostly eaten and having already taken care of the bill, we grab our drinks and head over to the dance side of the club.
Laken snags us a small table off to the side that has enough room so we can dance near it and remain close to each other.
“Lavender Haze” by Taylor Swift blasts through the speakers, and for the first time tonight, I’m dying to cut loose.