I give him a saccharine sweet smile. “Bend over, and I’ll put them where they belong.”
A laugh rumbles out of him, and something inside me eases. This is normal. How things should be, not whatever was happening at Matty’s. He peers behind him, hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Come on in.”
I follow him into the station and down the cement-bricked hallway, surprised when it opens up into what looks like a college living room, full of recliners occupied by firefighters and nothing else, and a large kitchen. Two men look up from a table in the kitchen when we enter, smiling in our direction. I recognize most of them, if not by name, then at least by face.
Holding up the bouquet in my hand, I say, “I have a flower delivery for Heather.” Her husband called it in this morning because she apparently had a rough night with their baby. I thought it was so sweet that I upgraded the bouquet size free of charge.
One of the guys sitting at the long dining table, engaged in what looks to be a poker game, motions down the hall we just vacated.
“She went back to the dorm room to call her kids before bed. Should be back out in a minute.”
I nod my thanks, suddenly feeling the weight of their gazes on me, their curiosity. I’m just realizing that they’ve probably heard the rumors, that they’re waiting to see how Grey and I interact.
Glancing up at him, I see he’s already watching me, mouth hitched in a smile. “Guys,” he says, not looking away from me, “this is my girlfriend, Finley.”
The words make my insides feel warm, like taking a sip of steaming hot chocolate on a chilly winter day, feeling the heat down my throat, spreading throughout my body in increments.
His hand presses to the small of my back, just above the curve of my ass, and he nudges me toward the table in the kitchen. With his free hand, he takes the bouquet, sets it on the counter, and gestures at the man closest to us. “This is Tom.” I shake the older man’s hand. He’s probably in his midforties, with dark hair just starting to gray at the temples and deep smile lines framing his mouth. Next, Grey introduces me to Jacob, who looks closer to our age, with dark auburn hair and pale green eyes. His demeanor reminds me of Holden’s, quiet and serious, watchful.
“You should join us,” Tom says, motioning to one of the empty chairs. “We’re playing poker until we get a call. Grey’s terrible. You could take him for all he’s worth.”
This brings a smile to my face, and I aim it toward Grey, who doesn’t look the least bit bothered by the teasing. I planned to go home tonight, debate with myself about making a healthy dinner for a few hours until it’s too late to eat anything but cheese and crackers and a handful of grapes, then read a book in bed until I pass out.
This sounds more fun.
“Yeah, okay,” I say. I lift my brows at Grey, wishing I could use Nora’s single brow trick right now. “As long as that’s okay with you.”
He leans down and puts his lips right beside my ear, and when his hand slips lower with the movement, a shiver runs through me. “I’d love to lose to you, sweetheart.”
Book club night ismy favorite night of the month. Despite living in the same small town as my family and every single person I grew up with, my life can be very exclusive and lonely. Having one night a month dedicated to spending time with my friends, with no significant others or kids involved, is life-giving.
The group was larger when we started, with ten or twelve women on average, but it’s slimmed down over the course of two years. Now there are only five of us, but we never miss a month.
I let myself into Alicia Bennington’s small ranch-style home at five on the dot. Finding a time that worked for everyone was trial and error, but we found that a happy hour–style book club is easiest. And also the most fun.
Stevie is the only one already here, and I find her and Alicia sitting at the counter in the kitchen, sipping on margaritas from the pitcher Alicia always makes. A smile lifts my lips when I see them, and just like always, something in my heart settles. I may not be where I imagined I would be at thirty-one, but at least I have a good group of friends who are just as interested in fictional boyfriends as I am.
Alicia sees me first, breaking out in a grin. “Finley!” She’s always like this—a bundle of energy, buzzing and sparking with excitement. She’s the kind of person whose glass is always completely full, not just half. Being with her feels like the first warm day of spring after months of winter.
My smile widens as I drop onto the barstool next to Stevie, feeling instantly lighter than the moment before I walked in the door. Stevie bumps her shoulder with mine. “How’s life?”
She’s always like this—straight to the point, and I love it about her. I spend 75 percent of my interactions with people engaged in small talk, but I’ve never had a conversation with Stevie that didn’t get deep at some point.
Maybe it’s why I feel myself settle and drop my guard enough to answer her honestly. “Strange,” I say and mean it. I haven’t told the girls in book club about the logistics of my relationship with Grey, because, although we’re all close, we mostly save our important conversations for this slice of time we’ve carved out for each other.
Stevie’s brows inch up her forehead. “Because you’re dating Grey Sutton?”
Alicia’s head pops out from behind Stevie’s. “Yes, please give us all the details on that development.”
I’m saved from responding when the front door swings open, a harried Nora in the doorway. “I need a margarita, stat.”
“I second that,” Wren says, appearing behind her.
My eyes narrow meaningfully, and she lets out a sigh so defeated I have to roll my lips to keep from laughing.
“I’m pregnant,” she says to the room with absolutely no fanfare. “Which is exactly why I need a margarita. But I’m never going to be able to drink again, so Alicia, please tell me you have some of your famous raspberry lemonade in the fridge.”
“You’repregnant?” Alicia and Nora squeal at the same time, and when I look at Stevie, still seated next to me, unlike Alicia,who is launching herself out of her seat and at Wren, I know she must have already been let in on the news.
