Page 84 of One Last Shot

A laugh bursts out of her, and in Lauren-like fashion it sounds like it came from the mouth of a fairy. “I can confidently tell you that big boobs are the only physical perk of having grown two tiny humans in my body. This dress”—she points to the part that wraps around her waist like a belt—“hides many of the flaws.”

“Well, personally, I think you’re even sexier now that you’ve had kids.” I think back to the month the girls spent in the NICU after they were born, and now they are healthy and strong and already crawling. “And it was all worth it for the girls.”

I don’t miss her side-eye. A few months ago, I told her that watching her pregnancy convinced me I never wanted to have children. I was trying to sympathize with what a terrible pregnancy she’d had, but I’d already decided I didn’t want kids, and even I can admit it was a shitty thing to say. Especially now that I’ve spent the last few weeks around Stella, and could easily imagine what a mother-daughter relationship would be like if it were with her. Maybe kids aren’t so bad after all?

“What’s gotten into you? Is this because of that little girl you were holding at that hockey game?”

I roll my head back and look at the beadboard ceiling of the porch.Fuck. Sometimes it feels impossible to keep secrets with my girlfriends.

“I saw the video of you and that hot hockey player locking eyes,” Lauren says when I don’t respond, “and when I texted Jackson and Sierra to see if one of them knew what was going on, Sierra told us that you didn’t want to talk about it yet. So neither Jackson nor I pushed.”

Even after I told Sierra what was going on the other day, she didn’t run back and tell Jackson or Lauren. Interesting.

“Well, we’ve got some stuff to catch up on then,” I tell her as I follow her through the entryway.

“Good,” she says, and it’s then that I notice the voices coming from her kitchen. Obviously, it’s not just Josh in there. “Because, even though I know how you hate surprises, I invited some friends.”

We round the corner and Jackson and Sierra are squealing and rushing toward me. “What are you doing here?” I ask as they envelop me and Lauren in a group hug. Over their shoulders, I see Nate, Beau, and Josh watching us closely.

“You didn’t think you were moving to LA without saying goodbye, did you?” Jackson asks.

“But you don’t even live here anymore,” I say, looking between her and Sierra.

“It doesn’t matter where we live,” Sierra says. “No way we’re letting a huge milestone like this go by without being here to celebrate with you.”

“But I thought you were in Europe or something?”

“Nope, Beau and I are in Blackstone, staying with Jackson and Nate for a while before we head down to Costa Rica.” I marvel at the one-eighty Sierra’s done over the past couple months, going from an uptight planner who had to stick to the path she’d set for herself, to someone who can travel the globe with her snowboarding boyfriend, making up their itinerary as they go. “Surf season’s starting for Beau and I want to learn to scuba dive.”

“And we haven’t all been together since Sierra’s birthday,” Jackson says. “Three months feels like forever to not see all your best friends.” She wraps her arms around us for another squeeze, and I’m caught off guard at how uncharacteristically emotional Jackson’s being.

“You okay?” I ask her quietly.

“I’m great,” she says, “it’s just that everything is changing so fast for everyone.”

Josh lures us further into the kitchen with the offer of drinks, and we stand around the large kitchen island grazing on the appetizers Lauren’s set up on the counter. She’s not big on cooking, but she can put together a mean predinner spread and she’s the queen of interesting salads.

I add more dip to a cracker and take in the scene around me. It’s interesting watching the energy in the room—it’s all happiness and love.

Nate has his arm wrapped around Jackson’s lower back and is absently stroking her hip with his thumb. The newlywed period is treating them well. I have known them since they were barely twenty, back when their love and their tempers both burned equally bright. And now, a decade later, I’m confident their seasoned love is the real deal. They’re going to be the ones we watch to see how it’s done.

Next to them, Beau is feeding Sierra a piece of chicken and as she sucks the barbecue sauce off his fingers, he dips his head toward her ear. Given how his body is pressed up against her hip, I don’t need much imagination to guess what he’s saying. I’ve never seen a guy so whipped over a girl as Beau is with Sierra, and I’ve never known anyone who deserved that adoration more than she does.

Josh and Lauren had a whirlwind romance and were married only a few months after they met, but that was years ago, before I knew them. Since then, they suffered through miscarriages and infertility treatments together. I don’t know Josh nearly as well as I know Lauren, but I see the protective way he hovers around her, always wanting to make sure she’s safe and cared for.

I wonder what that would feel like to know you were loved? To have someone who wanted to build the kind of partnership Jackson and Nate have built, or to receive the kind of adoration that Beau reserves for Sierra, or to have the deep trust that Josh and Lauren share? Is that what Sasha and I started—something that could develop into a lasting love? Did I make a mistake in refusing to stay?

Suddenly I have such a longing for him that my response is physical, a shudder that runs through my whole body like the feelings are refusing to stay inside me.

Nate’s the one to notice, and he dips his eyebrows. “You okay?” he asks, and five other pairs of eyes turn toward me.

Oh yeah, just the only single girl here and for the first time in my life, I’m not okay with that.I want Sasha here with me. I want his hand resting possessively on my lower back, I want him mixing up a drink he knows I like, I want him growing close with my friends and their significant others, and I want to know that at the end of the night I’ll be going home with him—to have him to talk to on the drive home, to feel the sexual tension building as we approach my apartment, and then being able to rip his clothes off the minute we walk through the door. I wonder if he’s still up? Should I call him?

“Petra,” Sierra says, “you’re scaring me.” Then to our friends: “Look how she’s just staring off into space like that.”

“Sorry, just lost in thought,” I say, shaking my head to clear away the mental images of Sasha and me naked in my apartment.

I exhale and attempt to relax my whole body as I set the glass down. It sort of works, until Jackson says, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that super hot hockey player you were eye-fucking on national television, would it?”

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