Page 62 of Branded Hearts

Now, here we are, dressed in our comfiest pyjamas, at Isla and Xavier’s house, surrounded by snacks on the coffee table, bottles of wine, and juice pops for Isla. I’m on my third glass of red wine, Liv is nearly sloshed, and Imogen is belting out the chorus to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” lounging on the couch with a bowl of strawberries in her lap. Imogen, however, is only on her first glass, wanting to take it slow as she’ll be needing to drive home.

This is our kind of therapy.

“This wine is amazing, Isla,” Liv says, her words slurring slightly. “Where did you get it?”

Isla grins, sipping from her juice popper. “Xavier found it. He’s been on this wine kick lately, trying to find the perfect one for when the baby comes.”

Imogen snorts. “For the baby? Are you planning on giving the baby wine?”

We all burst into laughter, the kind that comes easy with good friends and a bit too much alcohol.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Isla says, giggling. “Forafterthe baby is born. A celebratory wine.”

“Speaking of babies,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light, “I heard that pregnancy cravings can get really weird. What’s the strangest thing you’ve craved so far?”

Isla thinks for a moment, then laughs. “Pickles dipped in peanut butter. It’s actually really good; you guys should try it. Oh, and cheese. Lots of it.”

“Hard pass,” Liv says, making a face. “I’ll stick to my wine, thank you very much.”

“Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift comes on the speakers, and Imogen’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, I love this song! Let’s do karaoke!”

We all jump up, grabbing whatever makeshift microphones we can find—hairbrushes, empty wine bottles, even a cucumber from the snack tray. We belt out the lyrics, our voices mixing in a chaotic but joyous mess. Liv, with her slightly tipsy state, is the loudest, and her exaggerated dance moves have us all in stitches.

After a few songs, we collapse back onto the couch, breathless andred-faced from laughing so hard. Imogen says something that makes us all burst into laughter again, though I can’t quite remember what it was.

“That was amazing,” Isla says, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “We should do this more often.”

Imogen nods, still giggling. “Absolutely. This is the best therapy ever.”

Isla takes a deep breath, looking a bit more serious. “Speaking of therapy, can I just vent for a second? Xavier has been so careful around me lately. He’s reading up on everything—what diet I should be eating, what to avoid. He won’t even have sex with me on a regular basis because he’s worried he’ll impale the baby!”

We all stare at her for a moment before bursting into laughter again. Liv scrunches up her face. “Thanks for that image.”

Isla throws her hands up, flustered. “Sorry, Liv, but come on. A girl has needs. And the doctor even encouraged it, saying it’s safe to resume all sexual activities. I don’t understand what his problem is.”

I blush at this, feeling my face heat up.

“Why not just spring it on him? Instead of asking for it, just do it. Throw on some lingerie, set the mood, and then fuck his brains out,” Imogen suggests.

Isla thinks for a moment before releasing a sigh. “You know, you might be right. I will try that and let you know.”

Liv says, “Letthemknow, notme, please,” she says, pointing to herself, and we all laugh in unison.

Somewhere amidst the laughter, I ask, “Hey, where is Xavier,anyway? Is he with Bradley?”

I immediately regret my question, but we’re all tipsy, so who cares? Isla shrugs. “I have no idea. Probably, otherwise, he’d be with Harrison or Michael.”

The conversation shifts to sex and dating, and Imogen voices her exasperation about the dating pool in town. “It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack,” she complains.

Isla grins mischievously. “What about Harrison?”

Imogen chucks a pillow at Isla. “Don’t start, Isla.”

We laugh, and Liv turns the conversation to me. “We need to help Amelia find a man. I’ve told her so many times, but she just won’t budge.”

“Oo. Yes,” Isla chimes in, her eyes lighting up.

Imogen leans forward, curiosity piqued. “When was the last time you were with a guy?”

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