“Your drinks, ladies.”
Ever the bar owner, Jeremy hands each of us a margarita where we sit in a circle of camping chairs in the parking lot of the stadium. With his photographic memory for drink orders, I didn’t even have to tell him what I wanted, and that’s the kind of efficiency I can get behind. He hands Emma hers last and hovers by her chair an extra few seconds before going back to his makeshift bar in the trunk of Ben’s SUV. Leaning on the side of the car, his gaze lingers on Emma, and Emma turns the shade of red that I only ever see when Jeremy’s attention is focused on her.
Emma is the youngest of our group, and she’s the quietest of the four of us. She avoids social situations if at all possible and rarely speaks unless absolutely necessary, unless she is with us or one of her clients. She is our calm voice of reason, and I think she sees more than any of us give her credit for. She and Jeremy have had a glaringly obvious attraction to each other for years. Whenever they get their act together and finally givein to it, watching the quiet introvert and the gregarious former NHL star figure each other out is going to be so much fun.
“Well, if we have to go to a football game in a frozen tundra, this is definitely the way to do it.” Molly leans back in her chair and sips from her margarita. I laugh at the picture she makes. With jeans tucked into furry boots, a puffy pink jacket, purple gloves, and giant black sunglasses—peach margarita in hand—she’s giving Real Housewives of Winter, and it is so Molly. She’s the most outgoing and colorful of the four of us, which never fails to fascinate me because she is also the most brilliant, working in an area of estate planning with the most complex and intricate tax planning that I could only dream of understanding. With her brilliant mind and artist’s soul, she and I butt heads in a way that I’m sure drives everyone insane, but I prefer looking at it as the way we show our love for each other.
“I’ll take the frozen tundra if it means we can all be together outside of the office,” Hallie says, setting her drink down on the floor and reaching into her pocket, tossing each of us a couple of tiny packets. “Hand warmers. Just shake them and stick them in your gloves and your hands should stay warm for the game.”
I do what she says, and warmth immediately rushes into my frozen fingers. “Hallie is the smart one today,” I say, with a wink in her direction.
She grins at me and picks her drink back up. “So, gossip. I need it from everyone, and I need it now. No work talk allowed.”
Molly opens her mouth, but Emma beats her to it. “Don’t even think about it, Mol.”
Molly looks at Emma with false hurt written all over her face. “What?”
“You know what,” Emma says, pointing at her. “You were about to say something about how Julie doesn’t have any gossipbecause she spends all her time in the office, and girl, that’s just not it today.”
I smile at Emma even as my stomach twists and my fingers sneak towards my wrist before I remember I’m wearing gloves and pull back. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Emma intervening. She has a sixth sense for when Molly and I are about to get into it and has a weirdly clairvoyant way of knowing when to intervene and when to let it go. Sometimes I wish she just wouldn’t, though, because every time she does, I know I’m due for a round ofJulie and her perfectionist workaholic ways.
I wonder how long it’s going to be before they all realize that I may be a perfectionist on the outside, but on the inside, I’m dark and twisty and anxious and scared. I don’t like it—I just don’t know how to be any other way. Or whether anyone would still want me around if they knew what a mess I actually was.
“We’re here! Jeremy, you better have my drink ready!” Allie’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she and Jordan make their way towards us. Allie is engaged to Jordan—the third in the Ben, Jeremy, Jordan college best friend trio. She is a badass pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon and met Jordan when she started as an attending at the same hospital where he was a pediatric surgery resident. Their love story is the stuff of legends, and they are amazing together. Allie is funny, sarcastic, brilliant, and fits in perfectly with our group. Because of her insane work schedule, we don’t see her much—she and Jordan tend to stick close to home when their days off match up—but I love it when she’s around.
“You know it, my sweet.” Jeremy comes over and hands Allie a drink, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Don’t be hitting on my girl, hockey star,” Jordan calls from the group of chairs next to us where he parked himself next toBen, beer already in hand. Jeremy just shoots him a grin then kisses Allie’s head again before making his way back to his bar.
“Don’t worry, hon,” Allie calls out. “You know you’re the only man for me.”
“Fucking right I am. As soon as we get home tonight, I’ll remind you exactly why.”
“I just bet you will,” Allie mutters, turning back to us. I look over at Jordan and see that his eyes are plastered to the back of Allie’s head, swirling with a mixture of heat and desire. Like it did this morning when Hallie and Ben came to my office, jealousy settles in my stomach as I wonder what it would feel like to have someone so devoted to you that he can’t keep his eyes off you.
I want that. The thought is as involuntary as it is unwelcome. I have too much going on for a relationship, and besides, there is no man on earth who would want to get tangled up with a perfectionist workaholic who falls asleep at her desk during a marathon Friday night work session. Unwilling to let my mind wander down that road, I turn my attention back to the girls.
“So, what did I miss?” Allie asks, sipping her drink and settling into her chair.
“Nothing yet,” Hallie answers. “We were just about to get to the gossip portion of this tailgate. No work talk allowed.”
“I love no work talk allowed. You wouldn’t believe the stupid shit my residents got up to this week. Anyway, Jules, is this the first football game you’ve been to this season?”
Allie’s mind works in mysterious ways that are sometimes Bond-villain levels of sneaky. With such a random question, my mind looks for the trap. Not able to spot it, I answer her. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time for games this season. I haven’t even really caught any on TV. Work has been so insane.”
“Thought so. I’m just wondering how you feel about seeing him in person again.”
I look at her quizzically. “Seeing who?”
“Asher Hansley. You know, the quarterback whose hands were practically plastered to your ass at the gala over the summer?”
I mentally kick myself for not seeing that this was where she was going. You would think they would all forget about the one single dance I had with Asher Hansley at Jeremy’s foundation gala last summer, but no such luck. I don’t know why they make such a big deal out of it. Yeah, he’s sexy as sin and charming as fuck, but he is also a playboy athlete who collects women and is probably allergic to the word commitment.
And okay, maybe we did have amomenton the dance floor where I thought he might kiss me and I considered letting him, but cooler heads prevailed. And maybe he asked for my number, but it’s not like he would have used it, so really, I saved myself a whole bunch of angst and phone watching by refusing to give it to him.
“I barely remember. I was too busy watching Ben try not to spill his Very Big Feelings all over our unsuspecting Hallie during that spin around the dance floor.”
Hallie just grins and turns toward Ben who, predictably, already has his eyes on her. He winks at her, and she turns back around, blushing, because apparently that’s another thing Hallie does now that she and Ben areHallie and Ben.
