Gem pops around the corner first, curls flying, eyes zeroed in on us, Mia right behind her, arms outstretched. Zuri and I watch open-mouthed as Mia wraps her arms around Gem’s waist, and they tussle about and as Sasha tries to dart past them, shrieking as they reach for her and in a tangle of arms and legs, grunts and giggles, they stumble onto the couch. Somehow, Gem comes out the… victor? And she climbs over the other two and barrels over to us, huffing and pushing her long, dark curls out of her face.
“London, this place is amazing! Thank you so much for inviting us. You have to let me pay you back or chip in for this. This is too much! Especially since you paid for our flights. OMG, Zuri! It’s so nice to meet you. You’re gorgeous. Isn’t she gorgeous, guys? Come here, give me a hug! Yay, the new besties meeting the OG bestie!”
I holler as Gem pulls Zuri in for a back breaking hug and her eyes shoot to mine, but she relaxes quickly and accepts it. I tried to warn her just how amazingly sweet these girls are. Mia and Sasha finally disentangle themselves and make their way over.
“Zuri, oh gosh. I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity. I’ve heard nothing but the best things about you and your French Macarons. Mine never come out right. Oh, please tell me we can do some baking this weekend?” She does little prayer hands before she pulls Zuri into a hug.
Pulling back, Sasha laughs, face beet red. “I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Sasha. This is Gem and Mia.” She points to each girl as Mia steps forward.
“London told us you’re her bestie and that’s all we needed to hear. It’s so nice to meet you. We’re so excited for you to show us your city.”
Zuri throws her head back, her laugh big and loud and from deep in her gut. “You ladies are great. I wish I was greeted like this everywhere I went. You know how to make a girl feel special. Let’s get this party started and pour me whatever you’re drinking. It looks like I need to catch up!”
Hours later, we’re down in the basement, Mia’s the mixologist, taking as many shots as she’s pouring as we watch Gem and Sasha battle it out on the ping pong table. They are surprisingly accurate and competitive for the number of drinks they’ve consumed. Both sweaty, pushing hair from their faces as theyglide and shuffle around the table, slamming the ball back and forth with such force.
“I had no idea they were so competitive. Better yet, so good at ping pong,” I whisper to Mia.
“Oh yeah, they each had tables at their houses growing up. We spent plenty of nights playing together.”
Zuri turns, glancing at Mia over her shoulder. “You play too?”
“I can, but I can’t hold a candle to these little demons. I like to steer clear because this is the one thing that brings out their bad sides. You’ve been warned, you always have to watch out for the sweet ones. Plus, they’ll play for hours. No, thanks. But, if there’s ever an underground ping pong tournament, where the winner takes home millions, these are my sharks. I’ve already called dibs.”
Sasha sends the ball flying by Gem and the “fuck yeah” that flies from her lips as Gem slams her paddle to the carpeted floor in frustration sends me over the edge. The booze and this scene are too much, and I almost pee my pants, falling into Zuri with laughter.
“Let’s play again. Best of seven series,” Gem yells, hands slapping the table.
We all howl. This is just what I needed.
Seattle, oh, how I’ve missed you.
We had a slow, rough start to our day after our night of cocktails and the Ping Pong Playoff. But Zuri spoiled us, waking us to fresh baked cinnamon-apple babka, almond croissants, and bacon and cheese kolaches. We eagerly stuffed our faces and were ready to start the day.
Well, at least I was. I snuck out when my old beautician was able to squeeze me in for a quick trim and a silk press and I can’t help but toss my hair over my shoulder as the hostess leads us to our table for dinner. Smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. I want to tell them, no, this is a bad idea, with this group, maybe a secluded corner booth would be better, but everyone is pulling out chairs before I can get a word out.
I should be thankful everyone is getting along so well. Zuri fits right in. No filter. No fucks given. She’s like their long-lost big sister. The people around us aren’t even aware they’re about to get a show with their dinner. The inappropriate stories and F bombs that are about to fall from their lips, should be illegal. I'm almost happy I don't live here anymore, and I'll never have to worry about seeing these people again.
We popped a bottle of champagne for breakfast, a little hair of the dog, plus the mimosas and wine at lunch, so everyone’s tongues are already well lubricated or probably still slick from last night. But it’s fine. I’m sure everything will be fine.
Smiling, I glance around the familiar room. I've brought them to our favorite Italian restaurant. This place feels like a warm hug and is always lively, the food is amazing, and the service is impeccable.
Zuri and I found this place years ago, just walking by, the streams of laughter pulled us in from the street. The atmosphere got our attention but the enormous, family style portions kept us full and happy and repeat customers. Well, that and the bread, the very delicious brick oven toasted bread with sundried tomato butter. I don't even like tomatoes, and I dream of this butter. You wouldn’t even have to dare me to lick this butter from any surface it was smeared on. That's how much I've missed it. So, when our waiter approaches and introduces himself, I immediately request bread and extra butter.
As the girls look over their menus and Zuri scrolls on her phone because we always get the same thing, lasagna for her, spaghetti marinara with spicy sausage for me, I think about our day. I took them to check out my old apartment, and we walked around my neighborhood to my favorite shops. We shopped till we dropped, binged all the carbs at lunch, and visited my favorite wine bar before dinner. Tomorrow we'll do the touristy stuff, like Pike Place Market or the Space Needle, but today I enjoyed showing them this side of me in this place I called home for the last seven years.
However, I’m now excited to call Chicago home. Chicago is where I’ve reconnected with my parents, my aunt and uncle, Ty and Sasha and their family, and it’ll be where I’ll start my own family one day. Chicago has been carefree fun since day one and I owe some of that to Xander.
Glancing down, I fiddle with the napkin in my lap. I’m here having fun with my friends at my favorite restaurant. Why am I thinking about Xander? I haven’t heard from him, so why is he creeping into my thoughts? Well, it could be the new fabulous shoes I’m wearing.
I saw them in the shop today and immediately thought, Xander would love these, ring them up. I literally bought shoes I don’t need because he would notice them, tell me how good they looked on me, and get all sexy and swoony. But they are super cute, I stretch my leg out, pointing my toes. They are surprisingly comfortable and like Xander has mentioned before, I wouldn’t mind seeing them up around his ears.
Our waiter, Brad, returns, snapping me out of wayward thoughts.
“Hi, Brad.”
He smiles warmly before asking, “Have you decided on appetizers, ladies?”
Everyone defers to me, and I order the calamari, caprese salad, marinated olives, and the eggplant caponata.