Page 79 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

“Apartment.”

“Whatever. Two, the abortion thing. Now three, divorce papers. You’re still fucking married? What the hell is the matter with you people? Have you both been having extra-marital affairs? Do you tell the guy pile driving you from behind that your husband probably won’t approve, but that’s okay, because you haven’t seen him in a decade? Does Scotch tell horny bitches to ignore the tan line on his ring finger, because Sammy ain’t home waiting. And wait! Who tried to kick you the other day?”

I giggle. I forgot how amazing Meg is for my soul. “Britt.”

“Who the fuck is--” Meg gasps. “Little Brittany? Scotch’s kid sister?”

“Yup.” I pop the P and study my nails. “She isn’t a kid anymore. She’s a damn psycho, and her husband is hot.”

“She’s married?”

“She has a kid too!”

“A kid? Jesus, Sammy--”

“Yeah, and I didn’t stop and chat, but he’s about four times the size of Lily, so he isn’t a newborn.”

“Who the hell is Lily?”

“My daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

I laugh as her voice continues to turn up a notch on everything I say. “Lily is a baby girl that I’m trying to adopt. But seeing as I’m still married to fuckface, I need him to help me.” I swear, her ability to make me call Sam a fuckface is cathartic beyond anything I ever expected from this conversation. I should have been calling her all along, not wallowing in my own depression.

“I just… I can’t even with you right now, Sammy.”

“I miss you, Meg.”

“We should have a sleepover.”

I snicker. “Are we gonna sneak out and party and eventually get pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not!”

I sigh nostalgically. “Thank you for being my friend, Snitch.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How’s your life? How’s your hubby? No kids for you?”

“My life is swimming. My hubby is a fuckface too. And hell no! Kids are gross and always have boogers.”

“Lily doesn’t have boogers.”

Meg smiles audibly. “I bet she’s a cutie.”

“She’s beautiful. And she squeaks. Oh my god, Angelo calls her Squeak, and he’s kinda in love with her.”

“You’ve seen all the guys?”

“Yeah. They grew up, Meg. Jesus on a chicken biscuit, they grew up.”

“They look good?”

“They look so good. Angelo still has his long hair. But it’s longer now. And his nose is a tiny bit bent, and he gives the warmest hugs, and his fingers are permanently stained with grease and whatever stuff comes from tinkering with cars all day.”

Meg groans. “Tell me more about his fingers.”

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