Page 18 of Regards, Mia

I lead the way up the stairs to my beloved outdoor space. The balcony with the views of the Blue Ridge Mountains is the reason I bought the condo.

Lacey and Gabi follow me to my bedroom and onto the balcony. I have a coveted end unit. No one to my right, and to the left, I’m screened from my neighbor’s identical balcony by a row of tall potted plants.

“This is serenity,” Lacey says, looking out over the swelling mountain peaks under the hazy blue sky.

Gabi points to an ashtray filled with lipstick-stained butts. “This is a death sentence.”

“That’s old,” I say, dismissing it with a wave. “I quit, remember?”

Gabi gives me the mom glare she’s perfected from raising a teenager. “See thatyouremember.”

The doorbell rings, and I hurry downstairs to open the door to Thatcher. He’s grinning and holding a pizza box in his hand.

I prop my hand on my hip. “No, you didn’t.”

He strides inside. “Of course I did.”

“Asshole.”

“Very nice,” he says, sweeping a critical gaze around the first floor of my condo. “Very organized.”

“And clean,” Lacey says from the stairs.

“Mia said no pizza,” Gabi says, pointing at the box in Thatcher’s hands.

“I love pizza,” says Lacey.

“I don’t,” I say. “I have a bridesmaid’s dress to fit into in less than a month. And Chelsea purposefully ordered a size too small.”

“That woman is so annoying,” Gabi says. “Whatever size you are is already perfect.”

“Try living down the street from her,” Thatcher says. “She knows everything about everyone.”

“Don’t even start.” I roll my eyes. “She’s about to be my sister-in-law.”

“This will make you feel better.” Thatcher opens the pizza box with a flourish.

Under the lid is an array of girls’ night out finger food. Tiny sandwiches, cut vegetables, olives, dip, crackers, and cheese line the pizza box in a rainbow of colors.

Gabi claps with appreciation. “A pizza box grazing board. How original.”

Thatcher’s grin widens. “I understood the assignment.”

Lacey nudges him with her elbow. “You’re such a showoff.”

I take drink orders for wine and beer and head into my kitchen to fill the requests.

The six of us bonded over our love of books, and have been meeting every month for the last year. We each review our own genres of books and pick one to discuss as a group. I’m so obsessed with my job that I don’t make time for friends, but these guys are like family.

When we settle down to discuss our chosen books, Thatcher lets us in on the local gossip. “I have a new neighbor,” he says. “Pressly Vinroot.”

“Beckett’s sister,” Lacey says, taking a cracker and loading it with cheese. “Sloane’s boss,” she continues. “Thatcher’s first love.”

Thatcher looks away with a long sigh. “I might have blown it with her already. And she’s not my first love.”

Gabi puts her arm around his shoulders. “You still have a chance with her. Just be patient.”

“Out of all the places in the entire town, why did she have to buy the house next to mine?”

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