Page 86 of Done with You

Did that mean all the good men were taken? Or just the good men for the Young women?

“No, no, you can take them,” Pasha said, finishing off another name card and adding it to the stack. “Remember, Mommy likes wine, cheese and wine.”

Eve hopped down from the island. “And not the crap wine, either, right, Mama? It’s pinot or malbec or get the heck out.”

Mieka and Triss snorted.

“Who told you that?” Oona asked.

“Auntie Rayma.”

“Just training them young,” Rayma said, reaching for another donut. “No sense letting them buy something we’ll never drink like a chardonnay or shiraz, right?”

“Well, I need to know what all the hype is about.” Triss grabbed a donut covered in streusel and took a bite. “Mmmm.”

Heath pecked his wife on the cheek, then corralled his children and moments later they were dressed for a snow storm and out the door.

Mieka grabbed a donut, too. Hers was decked out with what appeared to be some kind of crumbled breakfast cereal on top.

“That’s the Froot Loops one,” Rayma said, licking sugar crystals off her thumb.

Mieka’s dark brows bunched as she took a bite. But she appeared pleasantly surprised, nodded and kept chewing. “Sweet, but better than I thought.”

They eventually moved on from name cards to center pieces, then other decorations.

It was closing in on five o’clock by the time they were done, all of them stuffed from donuts and needing to constantly get up to pee because of all the tea.

Heath texted earlier to say he was going to take the kids over to his brother, Rex’s, for pizza for dinner, so the women had the house to themselves for longer.

“Takeout sounds like a great idea to me,” Pasha said. “I don’t feel like cooking.”

“How about Indian?” Mieka suggested, glancing at her phone as she lounged on the overstuffed brown leather couch in Pasha’s living room, a plush cream-colored microfleece throw draped over her body. “This place has great reviews and we can use a delivery app.”

“Baby wants peshwari naan and aloo methi,” Triss said, her eyes closed as she kicked up the footrest in the black La-Z-Boy recliner that faced the huge wall-mounted television. “Oh, and vegetable pakoras, too.”

“That’s definitely one thing I miss living out in the country,” Mieka said. “The lack of ethnic restaurants. And Nate just wants to grab burgers whenever we go to Denver. I mean the burgers are good, but sometimes I want Tibetan or Moroccan or Ethiopian.”

Triss didn’t bother to open her eyes, but nodded. “Baby also wants paneer spinach, please.”

“Does baby just want the whole damn menu?” Mieka asked, giving Triss a playful side-eye.

“Baby wants alllll the food,” Triss said sleepily, rubbing her belly. “He says if we forget the samosas, he’ll give me heartburn for the remainder of the pregnancy.”

Mieka snorted. “Don’t you already have heartburn?”

“Don’t remind me,” Triss said with a wince. “But don’t forget the samosas. Veggie and chicken ones.”

Rayma came to sit next to Oona on the love seat. Oona wrapped her arm around her. “Pasha has wine. I’m happy driving home if you need a glass.”

“Or six?” Rayma asked wearily.

“Or six.”

“Thanks.” She glanced up at Pasha in the kitchen since the living room and kitchen were open concept. “I’ll make sure that wine on your counter isn’t poisoned, Pash. Do an official taste-test. Would hate for my big sister to get sick.”

Pasha’s lip lifted on one side and she nodded. “Mieks? Oons?”

“None for me,” Oona said.

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