“I’ll bet,” Gretchen said, eyes wide. She gave her head a small shake and then gestured at the grand house. “Welcome to the new home. I’ve traded up in roommates since you and I lived together. This one’s really fucking good in bed.”
Chelsea gave her a wry smile as she entered the immense manor house. “You’re a little out of the city now, though.”
“I don’t mind that. So who are you rooming with?”
“Pisa Hit. She’s my derby wife.”
Gretchen blinked. “Did you turn to the other team while I wasn’t paying attention? Because I’m seating everyone boy-girl tonight, but I can change that—”
Chelsea waved a hand. “Derby wife is a term for bestie. Pisa is my roomie and we hang a lot. Her real name’s Felicity.” Not that they ever called her that. Pisa would have punched her in the arm at the thought. She knew no one really liked to talk derby half as much as a derby girl, and tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So . . . what are you writing now? More of that space stuff?”
Gretchen made a face as she led Chelsea into the spacious mansion. “God, no. I’m writing nothing, and it feels amazing. I’m noodling with the idea of a cookbook, but for now, I’m a kept woman. Don’t tell Audrey.”
Chelsea grinned. “How is your sister?”
“Super pregnant and bloated.”
That was startling. “Wait. Did she get married, too?”
“Yep, but hers was more fly-by-night.” Gretchen squeezed Chelsea’s arm. “Told you that you’ve been out of the loop.”
“I have. Derby takes up a lot of time,” Chelsea said faintly. The truth was, derby was a good excuse for hiding from friends and social functions. She didn’t have to practice seven days a week, but she did. She didn’t have to volunteer for every community service event and training and away games and setup, but she did. As long as she wasn’t alone, she was cool. She could handle things. It was when she was by herself that things got sketchy and the fear kicked in.
“You seeing anyone, then?”
“Nope, not at the moment.” This was the first “event” she’d been to without Pisa at her side in the last while, and she was a little wigged out. Normally Pisa handled things for her, but she couldn’t exactly drag a friend to an engagement party that she wasn’t invited to. So they’d come up with a plan to make Chelsea comfortable without divulging her issues: She’d pretend to be on the lookout for a new guy and get introduced to all of them right away. Then, no one would be a stranger. Her mind and body wouldn’t freak out on her.
Everything would be good.
So Chelsea put on her cheeriest grin. “I am an extremely single mamacita. You gonna introduce me to a bunch of eligible guys that you’ve picked out as groomsmen?”
“Maaaybe,” Gretchen said, trying to hide her eagerness. “You cool with that?”
“Only if they’re hot and hold decent jobs. I make artisan soaps for a living. One of us has to bring in money.” She winked. “But . . . let’s make sure we don’t bring up the derby, all right?”
“Oooo, is derby a big nasty secret now? I always thought it was cool.”
“You should play,” Chelsea offered. “It’s very therapeutic to shoulder-bash someone off the track.”
“I think I’ll pass. I’m afraid of pain.” Gretchen wrinkled her nose. “So no derby mentions.”
“If we can avoid it. It tends to scare men off. They either think we’re strippers on wheels or they hate that it takes up so much time. Pisa’s last boyfriend made her choose between him and derby.”
Gretchen’s red brows rose over her glasses. “And?”
“And I’m told he sucked in bed anyhow.” Chelsea shrugged. “I figure it’s not worth the hassle when meeting people. If anyone wants to know about me, I make soaps and love movies.”
Gretchen snickered. “And clocking bitches, but I guess we’ll keep that on the down-low.”
“Yes ma’am.” Chelsea grinned and tucked her hand into Gretchen’s arm. “So show me all these eligible men.”
* * *
A short time later, she’d met everyone in the wedding party. There was Hunter, the groom, and the man Gretchen spent most of her time staring at adoringly and occasionally grabbing his ass. He was pretty scarred up, but Gretchen always loved a good story, and Chelsea guessed he had an interesting one. He seemed to adore Gretch, which made him a prince in Chelsea’s eyes.
There was Edie, who was kind of surly, and her sister, Bianca, who seemed nice enough but wasn’t interested in chatting with the women. Bianca had already found herself a man and latched on to him. One of those girls, Chelsea supposed, who thought all women were competition. In Chelsea’s eyes, they weren’t competition unless they were on the track.
There were the other bridesmaids—Greer, an old buddy and ex-roomie from the time she and Gretchen had a third roommate. Audrey, Gretchen’s pregnant and glowing sister. Taylor, their college buddy and a computer nerd who’d rather be at a laptop instead of at a party, and Kat, Gretchen’s loudmouth literary agent. She’d met most of them before, though it had been a few years. Nothing like a wedding to bring old friends back together. Actually, for all Chelsea knew, they were all hanging out every weekend while she was slamming into people at the most recent derby bout.
Chelsea was the friend who had drifted away, not Gretchen.
But she’d had reasons. Coping mechanisms, really. But they were reasons nevertheless.
The guys were an interesting mix. Asher was one of the groomsmen, which had made Chelsea laugh and hug him in greeting. He’d been an old buddy and part of their crew when she’d been running amok in the streets of New York with Gretchen, Greer, and Taylor. He was a few years older, a lot richer, and a lot less open and friendly. Something must have happened to the guy. She wondered briefly if Greer still had her crush on him. A few years ago, Asher had been the reason for Greer to wake up every morning, and . . . Asher didn’t even know Greer existed. Maybe she’d grown out of that.
People changed over time.
There was Magnus, a big, built guy who was into video games or something and had piercing green eyes. His brother, Levi, was also a groomsman, and was all over Edie’s sister, Bianca, so she’d barely managed to say two words in greeting to him.
There was her old buddy Cooper, the first in their “crew” to get a real job . . . and a receding hairline. She hugged him and rubbed his balding head. “You look awesome, Coop!”
“You never change, Chels. As pretty as ever. How are you? How’s the soap making?”
“Oh . . . you know. Slow.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “How’s the coffee shop?”
“It’s great. Business is booming. If you ever need a job, I’m sure I can squeeze you in.” He beamed at her and his gaze strayed to Bianca, too.
“Aw, thanks, babe. I might take you up on that,” she lied. It was too many people. Too many strangers. Too many opportunities for someone to take advantage. She was more protected in derby, when women pushed and shoved each other good-naturedly (and sometimes not-so-good-naturedly) and paired up for everything. But when Gretchen urged Chelsea on, she was glad to get away from Cooper. Everyone in her past would want to know why she was hiding out, and she wasn’t prepared to deal with that sort of thing.