Page 10 of The Write Stuff

She’d pulled her hair back in a clip that looked like a cocktail. She’d arranged it so a tuft of hair exploded out of the top of the clip, but still looked somehow neat. I was fascinated by the effort she’d put into her hair, and it didn’t seem to fit the woman I’d grown to know over the last few weeks — the woman who purposely bought a naked statue and dressed it up for holidays to own an HOA — but I didn’t comment.

Brody chuckled at my confusion. “There’s an outdoor area on that side of the building.” He pointed. “We’ll take over that entire area for the event.”

“Which doesn’t start for an hour and a half, correct?” I prodded.

“Yup.” Brody took pity on me, my nervousness obvious. “I would recommend two cocktails if you’re anxious. No more. You don’t want to get drunk. That will just make things worse.”

“I have zero intention of getting drunk,” I assured him, meaning every word. “I’m just a little excitable, I guess.”

“I was, too, when these things first popped up,” he assured me. “You’ll get used to them very fast.”

“You only got used to them because you spent all of your time looking at me that first year,” Bree countered. “You were falling in love, and I calmed your frazzled soul.”

The look Brody shot her was full of adoration. “I was falling in love,” he agreed. “You don’t soothe anything, though, my dear.” His response was cheeky. “You make things more fraught. Apparently, that’s what I was looking for, though.”

“Oh, so cute.” Bree twirled to get closer to him, then caught her sandal on the uneven cobblestones and tripped.

Thankfully, Brody was watching because he managed to catch her before she could fly into a wall or down a flight of stairs.

“Every single time, Bree,” he admonished as she giggled. “You’re going to crack open your head one of these days if you’re not careful.”

“Not if I have you to catch me,” she countered.

The way they stared into one another’s eyes gave me pause. As far as they were concerned, even though we’d come as a group, they were the only two people in the world. It wasn’t obnoxious, the way they looked at one another, but it was intimate, and it made me feel like an outsider.

For a moment — just a brief second, really — I felt an emotion I couldn’t put a name to. Was it yearning? It might have been. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, however, and I shook my head.

“You guys are goofy gross,” I offered, meaning every word. “I’m surprised you don’t overdose on all the sugar you throw at each other.”

“Hey.” Bree was obviously reluctant to pull away from Brody, but she gave me her full attention. “We have a kid who gets into everything — and I do mean everything — despite having our house child-proofed. That brings me to a tangent that I feel the need to go down, though.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Back in olden times — we’re talking the Donner Party and Little House on the Prairie times — they didn’t childproof homes, and nobody had a fit about it. Why do we have to do it?”

“Um, Bree, I don’t think the main concern with the Donner Party was child-proofing homes,” Brody offered helpfully. “Heck, if the homes weren’t childproofed, it would have been better for them because an accident meant food.”

I grimaced. “Can we not talk about the Donner Party when we’re about to have burgers?” I asked, horrified at the picture they were painting.

“I’m just saying childproofing is crap,” Bree said. “As for the other stuff, suck it up.” She shook her head at me. “You should find a nice girl — maybe a fellow author, because they’re the only ones who are going to understand the lifestyle — and settle down. You’ll feel better when you’re not so buttoned up.”

That jibe, despite being delivered with good humor, was like a slap on a naked cheek. “I am not buttoned up,” I complained.

She gave me a challenging look.

“I’m not,” I insisted. “I’m just … pragmatic.”

“Uh-huh.” Bree linked her arm through mine and dragged me toward the door. “You need to loosen up. Unfortunately for you, the only other member of our writer group who is single is a lesbian. I don’t think you’re going to do it for her.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “I don’t need a girlfriend.” Heck, that was the last thing I needed. “Trust me.”

“Actually, I think Bella and Nathan are bringing a new author tonight,” Brody interjected. “It’s someone Bella met at a publisher shindig in New York a few months ago.”

“Oh, you mean that one we managed to get out of because I was still postpartum?”

“Yes.” Brody grinned. “You were very excited to have an appropriate excuse, if I recall.”

“It was glorious,” Bree agreed. “I hate those parties,” she explained for my benefit. “I do remember Bella mentioning that she was subletting her apartment to somebody, though.”

“Do you know who it is?” I asked, hoping to redirect Bree from her quest to get me a girlfriend. That was off the table, no matter what she believed.