Page 73 of Moms of Mayhem
“I didn’t know I was taking it.”
“Oh,” she said, already leading me into the kitchen, “you’ve been taking it since the minute you showed up in town.”
And just like that, I was in.
Still terrified. Still turned on. Still very much in over my head.
But in.
22
Tuesdays were quickly becoming my favorite night of the week.
After Beckett’s many doorstep deliveries—candles, face masks, a freaking weighted eye pillow—Shannon, Stevie, and I had decided to host girl’s night at my place instead of at the studio. It felt cozier here anyway, especially with my kitchen lit up like a Hallmark movie had run off the rails.
Stevie’s husband Luke had picked up Harper after practice, and it was just the three of us to exchange our tacky holiday tees. Never in our original planning did I think the night might also involveBeckett Conway, sitting in my kitchen with a bottle of Topo Chico and looking devastatingly attractive in a backward hat.
“I’m looking for an edge piece with snow on it.” His brow was furrowed, gaze flicking across the chaotic mess of puzzle pieces spread over my table.
Between the puzzle, the half-drunk wine bottles, and the crumpled Mexican takeout wrappers he’d both brought andI’d had delivered, the whole table looked like the aftermath of a bachelorette party hosted by someone’s grandma.
Shannon didn’t even look up from her side table as she said, “That’s like asking me to name which person I said I don’t like. You’re going to need to bewaymore specific than that.”
Beckett froze, mid-reach.
Stevie cackled. I pressed my forehead to the table, laughing so hard my ribs ached. It wasn’t eventhatfunny, but the whole night was so unexpected, it hit me just right.
Beckett shook his head, grinning like he was actually enjoying himself, which might’ve been the biggest surprise of the night.
Hockey played on the muted TV across the room, and Beckett’s attention was split between it and the puzzle, but he didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. Didn’t even ask me to turn it up so he could hear it over the 90’s country that was playing on my speakers.
“Why did you get such a big puzzle?” Stevie asked, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “Who has time for 1,000 pieces?”
“We don’t have to finish it,” I said, resting my cheek on the table as I stared at the half-finished puzzle I’d been working on all week.
Shannon slapped her hand on the table so hard, my wine splashed over the rim. “We arenotquitters. That’s what the patriarchy wants.”
“Yeah!” Beckett cried, and I looked at the TV to see what he was cheering for.
Except it wasn’t the game.
His glass bottle clinked against Shannon’s own Diet Coke can, neither of them drinking with Stevie and me.
“I might be,” Stevie said through a mouthful of tortilla chips. She was leaning slightly to the right in her chair, her eyelids drooping. “It’s so far past my bedtime, it’s practically tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Shannon said, then pushed away from the table. “Let’s get you home.”
“I can drive myself,” Stevie said, standing with her hand resting on the table.
“No,” Beckett and Shannon said in unison.
I picked my head up, staring at them. Linwood was a small town, and we all remembered the car accident that had taken Beckett’s dad, David, and sent Shannon’s dad to prison for vehicular manslaughter while driving drunk.
Beckett had around a decade on Shannon though and had a fantastic mom that was left behind to carry the load. Shannon… she didn’t have that. I’d already moved away, but from what I’d heard around town, Shannon had lived with her grandma until her teen years, and then had done her best to survive on her own after she passed away.
“Let’s go.” Shannon dipped under Stevie’s arm and lifting her like she was all too familiar with taking care of drunks.
“Motherhood has made me such a lightweight,” Stevie whined, leaning into Shannon’s side and resting her head on her shoulder. “I think I’m more delirious than drunk. But this was the best night I’ve had in years. I just love you girls so much.”
