Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Cricket scoops up a forkful of rice. A smirk plays on her lips. “Isn’t that a website you frequent, Della? Adult Fun Finder?”
“Close. But not quite.” Della smiles smugly. “But you should try the websites I frequent, Cricket. Those ironed curtains will pale in comparison.”
I laugh at them. “Speaking of ironing curtains—which is Cricket’s idea of fun, not mine—I do enjoy a good do-it-yourself project.”
Cricket groans.
“Stop it.” I point my stare at her. “I’m good at them. You only see them through video chat. You’ve never actually seen one of my completed masterpieces in person.”
“Because every time Peter and I would come to Boston, you’d insist on meeting us in the city.”
“Because the city is fun. I loved having an excuse to do all the things with you instead of you sitting around my house fixing everything.”
“Oh, I would not . . .” She stops, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “Okay. Maybe I would’ve done that.”
I take a bite of my enchilada.
“Do you work, Gabby?” Della asks.
“She has the wildest job ever,” Cricket says, eyes glittering. “Go on. Tell them.”
“I used to work at a bank,” I say, resting my fork on my plate. “But when my ex-husband, Christopher, died, I was his beneficiary.”
Della flinches. “Your ex-husband made you his beneficiary?”
“He knew I’d make sure the kids were taken care of,” I say with a simple shrug. “And he built a very successful veterinary business while we were married. He said that I deserved to reap the benefits if something would ever happen to him, because I sacrificed alongside him for years.”
“And you divorced this guy?” Della asks. “He sounds like a dream.”
My heart softens. “He was a really good man. He just wasn’t the man for me anymore.” I shrug again. “Anyway, his estate has allowed me not to work this past year. I’ll go back to work as soon as the kids are settled. But it’s been a huge privilege to be able to sit with them in their grief.”
Cricket smiles, perching on the edge of her chair as if she can’t wait a moment longer for me to get to the point. “Gabby gets paid to name babies.”
“What?” Scottie asks, laughing.
“You do not,” Della says, surprised.
“I didn’t mean for it to be a thing—and I don’t get paid enough for it to be a real job,” I say. “I just offered names on a social media post. The next time I opened the app, my comments had gone viral. People were messaging me, asking me for suggestions. Now I have a page for it and charge a small fee.” I look at Cricket. “It’s more of a hobby than a job.”
“So that’s what you do for fun,” Scottie says. “You’re a baby-naming DIYer.”
“Do you want more kids?” Della asks.
“No.”
My quick response gets a laugh from the women around me.
“I can’t have babies anymore,” I say. “I had a partial hysterectomy a few years ago. But even if I could, it would be a no. What about you? Do you have kids? Want them?”
Della nearly turns green. “If I have kids, that would be a sign that I’m not in control of my decisions and y’all need to get me help.”
“And yet she has tons of sex and doesn’t want kids,” Scottie says, falling back into the cushions. “I want kids and haven’t had sex in what feels like forever.”
“You’re too picky,” Della tells her. “Lower your standards a little.”
“Della!” Cricket protests.
Della rolls her eyes. “Calm down. Sometimes the best sex is with the guys that aren’t husband material.” She leans toward Cricket. “And that’s fine. Not all sex has to be with a goal of procreation.”
“I agree,” Cricket says, sitting taller. “But I still think you can have fun sex without lowering your standards.”
I’ve known Della for only a few hours, but I already know one of her quirks. The corner of her lips twitches when she’s about to say something she knows will set Cricket off.
“Fun sex is called fucking, Cricket,” Della says, watching her friend closely so as not to miss a moment of her reaction. “When was the last time Peter fucked you?”
“We have fun sex a few times a week,” Cricket says, meeting Della’s stare head-on.
Della doesn’t respond with anything more than a hum.
Cricket makes a face at her and then turns back to me. “Remember what I said last night about ensuring your definition of good time matches hers?”
I look at Della and grin. “I think we’re on the same page.”
“Oh, good lord,” Cricket says, getting to her feet. “I’m getting a bottle of water. Does anyone else want one?”
“I need another paloma.” Della stands. “You haven’t touched yours, Scottie.”
She picks up her glass. “Sorry. The entertainment has been entertaining.”
Della peers into mine. “Want another?”
I should say no. My tolerance for tequila is low. But I’m really enjoying myself . . .