Page 69 of When It's Us
“Wait, what?” Finn asks, dropping her chin into her palm on the counter.
I groan at the memory. “I’ve got new neighbors. They’re sickeningly gorgeous. All young and tanned,” I fake grumble, then chuckle.
“She’s leaving out the part where they hit on her and then had a threesome while she watched.”
Finn gasps. “Did they really?”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I launch into the story, telling Finn and recounting some of it for Wren.
“I gotta say, I never considered two guys before but…” Wren says, trailing off as she washes a glass.
“Damn,” Finn mutters distractedly. “I mean, Hudson is filthy, but that’s next level.”
“Mmhm,” I hum in affirmation and then we all share a little giggle.
“You should have gone over.” Wren grins, elbowing me lightly. “Show those young bucks what arealwoman can do.”
“Ew, fuck.” I screw up my face, making Finn chuckle. “Young bucks? You’ve been living in the sticks too long, babe.”
Wren huffs out a laugh.
“Can you imagine?” I ask, taking on a horrible British accent like I’m narrating one of those nature documentaries. “The coastal grandma cougar stalks her prey, weaving in among sun-tanned, fresh-faced cubs.”
Finn snorts. “Now, who's using weird animal puns? And shut up. You’re stunning and beautiful and amazing,” she says sweetly.
“And grandma my ass,” Wren pipes up. “You’re a total MILF and the most stylish woman I know.”
“You two have to say that because we’re friends,” I say, grabbing my beer to take a swallow while I wait for Wren to finish washing the dish she’s holding. “Also, you live in Bumfuck, Montana. Not the most stylish place, soneitherof your opinions on this matter holds much weight.”
Wren goes quiet and when I look at her, her face softens, not even a hint of an eye roll, smirk, or chuckle at my joke. She rests her hands on the edge of the sink, bubbles covering her skin. “Oh, babe, is it the boys being gone, or something else?”
I sigh and wave a hand through the air, brushing aside her concern. Middle-aged, pathetic, lonely, redhead is not a good look. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself.
But Finn doesn’t allow me to brush it off either. “Is this about Peter? The wedding and the new baby?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, turning to lean against the counter, and Wren does the same. My mind drifts. “Also, my mother called the other day to let me know she could see my eye bags from Florida and to let me know that it looks like I’ve ‘put on weight’. So, there’s that.”
Wren scowls. “Respectfully, fuck that. You’re perfect exactly as you are. Don’t let her get in your head.”
I nod, hating that I even brought it up.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.
She knows I don’t, but we both know I’ll feel better if I do. Nearly twenty years of talking through things with her have shown me that. And even though I haven’t known Finn as long, talking to her always helps, too.
“I think all of it has me feeling a little…left behind. Is that weird to say?” I ask, turning off the tap and leaning against the counter.
“Absolutely not.” Finn shakes her head. “You and the boys have been through some big changes in routine with Peter moving. And now he’s a husband to someone else.”
“And he’s going to be a step-dad to two new kids,” Wren adds, “and the baby.”
“Yeah,” Finn nods, her brown eyes sympathetic, “it’s a lot. I’d think it was more weird if it didn’t affect you.”
I nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Careful to keep my eyes averted, I give a tiny shrug and focus on drying the dish Wren hands me. Direct eye contact with her is tricky. She will see right through me. I’ve never been one to lie, and truthfully, yes. Ever since Peter’s life has been changing, there’s been a slow build of anxiety on my end.
One that most certainly has me convinced that I’ve had my one shot at love, and that ship has so very clearly sailed. Right out the door and into the arms of a twenty-eight-year-old dental hygienist. I’m not upset about Peter. Or Meghan. He didn’t cheat, and we were divorced long before he got involved with her. I’m happy for them.
