Page 2 of When It's Us
And somehow, Ginger fucking Westbrook has already gotten a second round.
Ginger
I’mtwosecondsfromfinding out the reason why Nadia Durango killed her husband when my phone rings.
“Hey girl,” my best friend, Wrenley, greets me when the FaceTime video connects.
She’s got a baby on her hip—Amelia, judging by the heart shaped birthmark behind her tiny ear as she’s cradled against her mama’s shoulder—food stains on her shirt, and her long blonde hair is tied up in a lopsided bun. She looks exhausted, but incredibly happy. Something too close to envy tugs at my gut.
“Hey, babe.”
Amelia turns to the phone and smiles widely when she sees me on the screen.
In reality, it’s probably the ten-month-old’s own reflection that has her adorable little dimples popping, but I adore the idea that I can make her smile like that.
“How’s it going?” Wren asks, and I can make out her spacious, but cozy living room when she drops onto the deep sectional with a tired sigh and pops a bottle into her daughter’s mouth.
“Oh, you know, missing the boys like crazy. But I just peed with the door closed and no one stood outside saying‘mom, mom, moooom’a hundred times, so that wasnice.”
Wren chuckles and runs a hand over Amelia’s hair. “I’d call that a win.”
Hank, Wren’s husband, comes into view behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind the couch. “You doing okay, Red? Thought maybe you’d stow away in a suitcase or something.” His tone is gruff but lightly teasing, and it makes me smile.
Hank adores my best friend, and by association, he cares enough to know I might be spiraling a bit.
“That would have to be a pretty big suitcase.”
Wren laughs. “Nah, you’re bendy for a tall chick.”
“Here, let me take her.” Hank nods at their daughter and plants a kiss on Wren’s neck.
“Thanks, baby,” Wren says, offering up her lips as her husband cradles Amelia against his chest.
I shouldn’t be envious. I’ve had that: baby snuggles and that newlywed feeling that makes you giddy just hearing the other person’s voice. I’m happy for them. So why do I have to force a smile onto my face?
“I’ll rock her in our room and then put her down with Hazel,” he tells Wren, and then he coos at his daughter, “we don’t want to interrupt mommy’s girl talk, do we, Princess?”
Wren’s face lights with a wistful smile, watching her husband stroll away. Probably checking out his ass, if I had to guess.
She turns back to me. “So, did you work all night?”
She knows me so well. “Notallnight. The house is so quiet, I keep wondering if I’ve lost my hearing.”
Wren laughs. “I bet. It would be majorly weird not to hearsomesort of baby noises around here and I’ve only been a mom for like five seconds compared to you.”
“Baby noises are easy, and you’re lucky you have girls. All talk around here involves farts, poop, and balls.”
My best friend stifles a giggle with her hand. “Just think, you get to sleep in tomorrow,” she says with a wink. “No ballsin sight.”
Loud music starts up from next door and I huff out a breath. “Scratch that, apparently my new neighbors are having a party, and theyallhave balls.”
Wren’s brows lift. “Wait—we’re circling back to that comment. I didn’t know anyone had moved in.”
“Oh yeah,” I wave my hand. “Bunch of hot, young dudes and their ridiculously gorgeous female friends are always hanging around. One of them even hit on me.”
“Of course they did. You still got it, mama,” Wren chuckles. “What did he say?”
“It was a guy and one of the girls, actually.” I prop my chin in my hand. “Turns out Josh and Ryan are cousins, and Vanessa is apparently withbothof them.”
