All four of us watched his excellent rear end as he exited the room.
“Really nice catch,” Lina said to Stef.
He sighed. “I know.”
“Okay. I think I want to talk about something Dad adjacent,” I announced.
“Hold on. Let’s set the mood,” Lina said before hitting me in the face with a throw blanket.
Naomi clicked the remote for the fireplace and then tiptoed around the room, lighting the candles I had scattered everywhere. Stef nudged a box of tissues toward me. Everyone sat back down and stared raptly at me.
“You know how we’ve been talking about starting some kind of community foundation with the proceeds of the sale of your house on Long Island?” I prompted Naomi.
She nodded, pen hovering over her notebook.
“Well, Dad left both Maeve and me a little money, and I was thinking about how I could use it. What if we created some kind of free legal aid initiative?”
Naomi’s eyes danced in the firelight. “I love it!”
“We could organize local attorneys to provide pro bono services. A lot of the bigger firms encourage their associates to do freebie work. They’d eat up the positive PR,” Lina pointed out.
Naomi and I shared a knowing grin.
“What?” Lina asked.
“You said ‘we,’” I said.
She grimaced. “Shut up. Don’t make me regret befriending you pains in the ass. Besides, my last bonus was embarrassingly huge. I guess I wouldn’t hate putting part of it toward a good cause.”
“Great. Now I’ll look like Scrooge McCheapskate if I don’t cough up some cash too,” Stef complained.
“We won’t judge you,” Naomi promised.
“Yes, we will,” I said.
“Fine. I’ll pony up. But I hope you know this means downsizing my real estate budget.”
“What real estate budget?” Lina demanded.
Stef shrugged and looked at his suede boots. “I maybe kind of am starting to possibly consider the idea of someday broaching the subject about moving in with Jeremiah.”
Naomi let out a high-pitched squeak and was immediately shushed by Stef.
He looked furtively over his shoulder in the direction of the blender sounds. “Zip it, Witty!”
“Sorry,” she whispered, eyes shining.
“I knew things were getting serious since you’re here all the damn time,” Lina pointed out.
“Well, they’re serious for me, but I don’t know how serious they are for my hot, bearded, barber boyfriend.”
“He’s crazy about you,” Naomi insisted, her voice still squeaky.
“You two hot dudes are head over heels for each other,” I said, keeping my voice low.
Stef looked both hopeful and nauseated. “We haven’t really discussed a future. But I want us to have one. What do I do? Ask if I can move into his bachelor pad, which by the way looks like it was furnished by some renegade rebel motorcycle gang? Seriously, who has a diamond-plate steel coffee table? You can’t even slide a wineglass across it. Besides, won’t I come off like some crazy stalker if I’m all like ‘Hey, can I move in with you?’”
“I’ll be honest. The whole spending fifteen days a month here when you technically live in New York is a lot more crazy stalker-y than buying property here,” I pointed out. “Honestly, I can’t believe you let me ramble on and on about my ovaries and my dead dad for that long without bringing this up.”