Paxton lives close to the studio, so we take my car to Charlie’s and settle into a booth in the back corner. I order a ginger ale and Paxton orders a glass of white wine.

“It’s Saturday. You’re not having a drink?” Paxton asks.

I shrug. “I’ve been tired lately. Don’t want to add alcohol to the mix when I’m already a yawn factory.” I cover my mouth with my hand and yawn so wide and so hard it brings tears to my eyes.

“Oooh, late night chats with Hottie McDaddy?”

“Actually.” I arch a brow.

She stops browsing the menu to look at me. “Wait. I thought you said the sexy times were over.”

“They are.” I poke at my ice cubes with my straw.

“But?” Paxton prompts.

“Queenie’s birthday is coming up, and I’m planning to fly to Seattle for the party. Jake called last night and invited me to stay at his place.”

She sets her glass down and gives me her full attention. “You mean as friends? What did you say?”

“I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Would it really be so bad if you had one last, last roll in the hay with him?” She wiggles her fingers and smiles like a villain.

I chuckle and then sigh. “I don’t know if I could limit myself to one last roll, which is the problem. When I first met Jake, Queenie made some sort of comment about how well he and I got along, and Ryan told her that his family was already messy and not to go planting seeds. It was innocent enough, but I can’t see him being okay with it.”

“But you still want to sleep with Jake.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s a colossally bad idea to continue sleeping with Ryan’s father-in-law.”

“When you put it that way.” Paxton makes a face. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. I really would have loved another weekend of hot sex with a guy whose number I didn’t need to lose.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I Can’t be Reading that Right

Hanna

WORK IS INCREDIBLY busy in the weeks leading up to Queenie’s birthday party. With the promotion on the table, I’m pulling longer hours and taking on more responsibilities. I end up having to move my flight to Seattle to the morning of the party, thanks to an unexpected audit on one of my bigger clients. It means I’m up until one in the morning getting all the paperwork in order.

My alarm goes off at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, my bag already packed for the weekend and waiting at the door. However, I hit the snooze button more than once on account of the exceptionally early hour and am forced to get dressed in a rush. Thankfully, I already programmed my coffee to brew last night, before I went to bed, so I pour a to-go cup, grab a banana, and head for my car. The drive to the airport isn’t long, and I won’t have to contend with rush hour traffic.

I pull onto the freeway and move into the center lane. I take a first sip of my coffee and make a face. My luck with cream has sucked lately. I make a mental note to throw it away when I get home on Sunday. I can grab a fresh cup at the airport.

Unfortunately, I got the time wrong for my flight. It doesn’t leave at eight thirty-five; it leaves at eight oh-five, so I only have minutes to spare once I’m through security to get to my gate. Ryan has upgraded my ticket, but I’m aware that airplane coffee is not the best, even in first class.

I end up passing out—I blame the comfortable seats—and sleep the entire plane ride to Seattle. Thanks to the time change, I still arrive well before noon.

As soon as I step off the plane, my phone blows up with messages. I have a couple from Jake telling me to have a safe flight and to message when I’ve landed. It’s almost disappointing when there’s nothing inappropriate or suggestive in his texts. I fire one off, telling him I’m in Seattle and I can’t wait to see him later.

The group chat with Lainey, Violet, and Stevie is a different story altogether. There must be more than a hundred missed messages in the chat. Ryan is taking Queenie out for the day, so we won’t see her until later at the restaurant. But Ryan, being as thoughtful as he is, has scheduled an afternoon of pampering for the girls and me.

I stop at Ryan’s first, even though he and Queenie have already left, so I can freshen up before the girls pick me up for our afternoon at the spa. We’ll start with massages and facials, then mani-pedis. Queenie has made such wonderful friends here, and I love that they’ve pulled me into their group and adopted me as one of their own.

Stevie, Lainey, and Violet pick me up after I’ve gotten myself settled into what will eventually be a nanny suite, I’m sure. It’s almost like a self-contained apartment on the main floor of the house, and usually where my parents stay when they visit.

Stevie leans over and gives me a side hug as I slide into the back seat. Her hair is a different color every time I see her, and today it’s pale blue. “Yay! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Lainey smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “We were just talking about how nice it would be if you lived closer and we could all see you more often. We’d all gotten used to you being here more than once every three months.”

“When the boys play Tennessee, you’ll all have to come out and visit.” If my whole life wasn’t in Tennessee, including my job and my art studio, I might consider moving this way. But at the same time, NHL players aren’t guaranteed to stay in one place. Ryan is lucky he’s been on the same team for as long as he has, and while his contract is going to keep him in Seattle for the next several years, there’s no saying where he’ll go after that.

“We’ll have to do that before this one gets herself knocked up.” Violet points at Lainey, who is busy driving with her hands at ten and two. Ryan would approve.

“You’re trying to get pregnant again?” I ask. She just had her little girl Aspen not that long ago.

“Kody was a happy accident, but it took forever for me to get pregnant with Aspen.” She smiles slyly and her cheeks go pink. “Not that I mind the trying part, but I don’t want another big gap between Aspen and the next one. And RJ, while accommodating, has said he’d like to have spontaneous sex before the end of this decade.”

“You can say goodbye to spontaneous sex until the kids move out,” Violet says. “Robbie stays up later than me half the time these days, which means zero privacy unless we farm them out to the grandparents.”

“You do realize these conversations are like birth control advertisements, right?” Stevie snickers and pulls up the hockey schedule for the season. “There’s a game in Tennessee in November. Maybe we could come out then, if that works for you?”

“It could definitely work.”

“Is it mid-week or on the weekend?” Vi asks.

“That one is on Friday,” Stevie says.

“Don’t you teach painting classes on the weekends? Are you missing one today?” Lainey asks.

“My friend Paxton is running it solo this weekend,” I explain.

“Maybe we could sit in, so you don’t have to change your schedule. It’d be so much fun to spend a weekend with you in Tennessee.” Lainey smiles warmly.