Page 85 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

TESSA

Parking was always a bitch in Rincon Hill, even on a Wednesday night in mid-May. I made a wider circle this time, looking for one of those expensive lots with the faded stripes and the dude who looked just as likely to steal your car as to watch it.

Perhaps if I’d ever lived in San Francisco, I wouldn’t mind it so much. I’d accept the parking struggle as a way of life, but as someone who’d grown up in the suburbs, then the forests, then Berkeley, then wide-open Silicon Valley, I minded. A lot.

“There’s a spot!” Savannah shouted. “On the right! You can parallel park, right? I could never,” she said as I pulled up to the front car and turned on my blinker. “Not in my minivan.”

“You could do it in this.” I hit the button, and the car took over, easing itself into the spot.

“Omigosh.” She gripped the door handle. “How does it do that?”

The car finished its maneuvers and put itself into park. “Technology is pretty amazing,” I said.

Savannah met me on the sidewalk. “It’s why you went into it, right? Even though not many women our age did? Even though your dad’s kind of a Luddite?”

“It seemed like magic to me,” I admitted. “I wanted to learn the secrets so I could harness it.”

“You did. And now you can do anything.” She slipped her hand around my elbow and walked toward Danny’s bar. “Software, biotech…what’s next, space travel?”

I huffed. “That’s a dick-measuring contest if I’ve ever seen one. No, I think I’ll focus my energy here on earth.” Once I was done licking my wounds. Three weeks wasn’t enough time to get over a betrayal like Oliver’s. But I didn’t want to think about him or the half-dozen desperate texts he sent me before I blocked his number. If I’d listened to the voicemails, I’m sure they’d have said the same thing:I love you. I’m sorry. I should have told you. Please call me.

I’d done too much thinking about Discovery Diagnostics lately. And Oliver. Tonight was about Savannah. “Speaking of dicks, tell me what your ex wants now. What problem is the Goddess Gang tackling tonight?”

“Um…” She sped up, tugging me toward the old-fashioned neon sign that still readBarb’s Bar.“You know, divorce stuff.”

I wasn’t surprised when we went inside and Justine’s was the first face I recognized. It was a little unorthodox for a divorce lawyer to hang out socially with a client, but Justine followed her own rules. She sat next to Carly at Lucie’s favorite booth. Lucie stood beside it, bouncing her seven-month-old, Mia, in her arms. On the other side of the booth, her back to us but her petite size and shiny, dark bun unmistakable?—

“What’s Bridget doing here?” The truth started to dawn on me, and I didn’t like it. “We’re not here to talk about your divorce, are we?” Bridget wasmyfriend. We were here to talk aboutmyproblems. Ice swept out to my extremities.

“Not exactly.” Savannah’s grip turned to steel as she towed me toward the booth.

I’d been perfectly fine with having a come-to-Jesus conversation when Carly had her head in her ass about Andrew. But this was different. It was business, despite the fact that Oliver and I had been fucking. “I don’t want?—”

“Tessa.” She pulled me to a stop. “This is what friends do. We talk. And you need to talk.”

“No, I don’t.” But I let her tug me toward the booth.

Carly stood and held out her arms. I gave her a small nod, and she folded me into her embrace. “Sorry about this,” she whispered in my ear, “but you need us.”

“Do I? Or is it time to find new friends?”

Lucie snorted. “Like you could find friends as awesome as us. I’m going to hand off Mia to her grandma and get us a pitcher of margaritas. Don’t start without me.” She walked away.

Justine scooted out of the booth and touched my shoulder. “Savannah said you need all your friends right now. I’m glad you called on us.”

“I didn’t,” I grumbled. “But I’m glad you came. You can inject some logic into the conversation.” She’d be on my side.

Bridget clenched my hand. “Et tu, Brute?” I said.

“I feel bad about being the one to introduce you to Maya Perrell. I’m so sorry it all went to shit.” Her blue eyes shone.

“You had no way of knowing it was a setup. But I can’t believe you agreed to be part of this.” I waved at the circle of women.

She tipped her head. “I’m always going to show up when you need me. That’s what friends do. I wish you called for help more often.”

“I didn’t. I don’t need this.”

“Don’t you?” Lucie thumped a heavy tray on the table. It held a pitcher of margaritas, a stack of lowball glasses, a bottle of top-shelf tequila, a bowl of lime wedges, and a saltshaker.

---