A slow smile spreads across my face as I sit back and watch my best friend go back and forth with Norah over a television show. I can’t stop the dirtiness of my imagination as it forms a fantasy of Kate and Norah having a pillow fight over who should be in love with who. Before my mind goes too far, a shrill voice breaks into my pillow dreams.
“Jess is a drifter who doesn’t know what he wants…at least Dean took some risks for Rory.”
Kate shakes her head in disgust. “I can’t believe you never told me you were Team Home-wrecker Dean.”
“I can’t believe you never told me you were Team Zero Ambition Jess. You were one of my favorite customers.” Norah blinks back her shock like someone’s just told her Santa Claus doesn’t exist.
“Feeling’s mutual, Norah. I mean…Jesus. I’d be Team Tristan before I’d be Team Dean. I’d be Team Kirk before Team Dean.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Norah growls, and the two go silent as they stare each other down for a long, pregnant pause.
Kate’s the first one to crack. “Can I still take a number for a fresh croinut? What’s the flavor of the day?”
“It’s birthday explosion, and I don’t own the machine,” Norah snaps back, which breaks the tension as she stutters, “Well, actually I do own the machine because I own the bakery…I just…was saying that for dramatic effect.”
Kate breathes a sigh of relief and reaches down to pull a number out of the red ticket machine on the counter. “Oh, thank God because I love birthday explosion, and I’ve been thinking about a croinut all morning. Tire Depot’s Danishes don’t hold a candle to your baked goods.”
“Aw, you’re too sweet,” Norah replies, looking touched. “I know how much you love those Danishes.”
“Mostly just because they’re free, and I’m cheap,” Kate says with an awkward laugh. “Seriously, if your bakery was complimentary, I’d do all my writing here.”
Norah nods her head awkwardly. “Well, then I’d have no bakery because I’d have no money.”
“Right!” Kate barks out a laugh. “Maybe you should start doing oil changes here.”
“That would kinda get in the way of my bakery.”
“Obviously!”
The two grin at each other for a second, and then Kate says, “I’m gonna go grab a booth. Later, Norah. See you at the next Gilmore meeting.”
“Nice seeing you again, Kate.”
Kate turns to leave, and Norah busies herself back at the glass display case, rearranging the donuts that don’t require patrons to take a number.
My voice is low and strange when I state, “I have no clue what either of you was talking about, but is it odd that I am slightly turned on from watching what just unfolded here?”
“Moser!” Norah snaps, and I quickly take a number and rush over to join Kate at the booth.
Moments later, I’m seated across from my two friends, Kate and Lynsey, who are currently tits deep in wedding plans for Kate. Kate even has some sort of wedding binder spread open as they work through decorations and shit. Before the wedding talk, they discussed Lynsey’s sex life and how hard it is to bone your husband when you have a one-year-old who won’t sleep at night.
I glance over at Julianna, who’s seated in a high chair beside us with eight pounds of pink frosting smeared all over her face. She’s one now and looks like she’s about to slip into a diabetic coma any second.
When the fuck did my two closest friends become grown-ups?
It feels like yesterday I was rolling a keg of beer into Kate’s house to celebrate the completion of her smutty bed-n-breakfast series. Kate, Lynsey, and I were all neighbors making the city of Boulder our bitch. Now Kate lives in the tiny town of Jamestown with Miles, the mechanic she met at Tire Depot who smokes licorice like cigarettes, and all they do is talk about their rustic-themed wedding coming up. And Lynsey’s married to the doctor who knocked her up, and their brown-eyed little cutie is old enough to eat donuts like a well-seasoned trucker.
Jules’s eyes begin to close, and her head slowly descends to the table. “Is she okay, Lyns?” I ask, pointing at the bizarre sight.
“She’s fine,” Lynsey replies, waving me off as she asks Kate for the eighty-seventh time how many Mason jars she needs to paint for the centerpieces.
“She doesn’t look fine,” I add as Julianna’s forehead rests on the table.
Lynsey stops talking long enough to pull Julianna’s head up. She holds her hand in front of her mouth and nods. “She’s breathing, she’s fine. It’s just a sugar crash. It happens.”
My head jerks back because Julianna’s eyes are slightly rolled back into her head, and that does not look normal. Suddenly, Julianna comes to. “Mo dony!” she bellows, and her tiny finger reaches out to press down on a stray sprinkle on the table. She puts the sweet into her mouth before lowering her head and falling fast asleep again.
Fuck me, that was a disturbing sight. I’ve never been gladder not to have kids.
There are a lot of disturbing sights as of late. Like Kate staying in on a Friday night instead of coming down to Pearl Street Pub to have a beer with me. Or Lynsey having a ribbon cutting at her new family practice she opened with Dr. Dick.
He has a real name.
Josh something.
He’s okay, I guess. Both Miles and Josh are decent guys, and the girls are madly in love with them, so I guess they’re happy. But those two little smokies have officially taken away my wing women, and because of that, they must be my mortal enemies.
Clearly, I’m bitter.
My two best friends have completely different lives, and I’m here doing what I do best—trying to figure out how big Norah’s tits are beneath that ridiculous uniform she wears and avoiding all conversation concerning weddings and babies.
“Dean, did you hear me?” Kate asks, and I pull my gaze away from Norah as she artfully glazes a fresh batch of croinuts. She always looks so technical when she does that, like a scientist performing an experiment, and it’s soothing to watch. And every once in a while, she catches me staring, and her cheeks and neck begin to flush, and she gets this faint sheen of sweat on her face. It drives me fucking wild.
Kate’s voice cuts into my reverie again. “I said I’m going to murder you if you bring some random college girl to my wedding in a few weeks.”
“Murder seems a bit excessive,” I mumble under my breath and take a sip of my coffee. Damn, Norah makes a good cup of coffee.
“It’s not an overreaction,” Lynsey interjects, reaching out and grabbing my hand from where it’s resting on the table. “I still can’t forget the Lila disaster that happened a few weeks ago. I’m a therapist, and I think I need therapy to recover.”
“Her name was Lala, and you’re both being dramatic.” At least, I think that was her name. I jerk my hand away, her gentle touch a harsh contrast to my irritation. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“She lit my tiki bar on fire, Dean,” Lynsey exclaims, and I swear her eyes well with tears because she’s obsessed with that stupid thing. “Lola or Layla or whatever her name is was so sloppy drunk she caught her hair on fire, which caught my tiki bar on fire, which resulted in the neighbors calling the fire department.”