Dear Future Ex-wife

“Who are you kidding? You’ll fold like a cheap chair,” Callie challenges. “There’s no way you’ll make it months in the same apartment as Nate without having sex with him.”

“I’ve gone years without giving in to the temptation,” I point out. “What’s a few more months without sex?”

“Care to make a wager?” Callie’s lips curl up into a wicked grin. “A hundred bucks says you’ll have sex with Nate on your wedding night.”

Jules rubs her hands together. “Oh, this is juicy. I like it. I’m in.”

I smack her lightly on the arm. “Hey, don’t side with her.”

Jules shrugs. “This is a bet we all know you will lose. Sorry, babe.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, you traitors.” I look over at Lola, who glances away when our eyes meet. “Not you, too!”

“Sorry, Harley,” Lola says. “But I want in on the action. I don’t think you’ll last either. This is Nate King we’re talking about.” She turns to look at Callie. “Put me down for a hundy.”

Callie roars with laughter.

Jules throws a hundred-dollar bill at the center of the table. Lola adds her American Express card to the pile. “Call it an IOU… for now.”

“Lola,” Jules snaps. “Please tell me you didn’t spend your paycheck already on clothes.”

Lola bites her bottom lip, unable to look Jules in the eye. “Okay, then I won’t tell you. And it was shoes, if you must know.”

“I guess I’m not getting rent this month,” Amelia says in a carefree tone.

Lola, Callie, and Jules live with Amelia in her brownstone in Center City. As far as I know, they all chip in for food, utilities, and alcohol—the bare essentials. But Amelia would never charge them rent. She doesn’t need the money. Her family fortune is worth billions. Amelia has so much money that she donates her Market House paychecks to charity.

Callie chuckles. “Not like you would get rent from this group of degenerates.”

“Hey,” Jules says. “Who are you calling a degenerate?”

She waves her hand at Jules. “Okay, maybe not you but Lola—”

Lola elbows Callie in the arm. “Don’t even finish that thought, woman.”

Callie downs the last of her drink and shrugs.

The Market House girls have their own dynamic. I’ve been out of the loop for so long that it’s nice to feel like one of them again. I love sitting here, listening to their banter. In some ways, maybe the deal I made with Nate will be good for me. This could be a second chance at the life I left behind. And maybe, if Callie is right, Nate will make this work. He seemed genuine when he made his confession this morning. Nate’s a good liar but he’s not that good.

“One more thing,” I say after the waitress sets a heaping plate of nachos at the center of the table. “What are you guys doing twenty-nine days from now?”

Amelia narrows her eyes. “Is this a trick question?”

“No.” I can’t help but laugh. “If you’re not busy, I’m getting married in the Bahamas…”

Callie squeals. “OMG! And you want to know if we’ll be your bridesmaids?”

“Yeah,” I counter with an attitude. “But you could’ve let me ask you first.”

“Aww, how cute,” Callie says. “You acted the same way when you wanted to ask Nate to prom.”

“What?” Amelia gasps. “You and Nate went to prom together?”

I shake my head. “No, I wanted to ask him.”

“But Mark Holland asked her first,” Callie chimes. “Right in front of Nate.”

“I was going to say no until Nate tapped me on the back like I was one of the guys and said he’d catch me later.”

“Yeah, that was super weird,” Callie admits. “I really thought Nate was going to ask you.”

“Ha! I doubt that,” I shoot back. “He had half of the girls in our class bugging him to be their date. And he ended up going with Tammy Clearwater. Like we didn’t see that coming.”

Callie purses her lips, and a dark look crosses her face. For once, she keeps her mouth shut.

“Anyway,” I say after a long pause. “Will you guys be my bridesmaids?”

“Duh,” Callie says. “Of course, we will. And I better be your MOA.”

“I couldn’t imagine anyone else being my maid-of-honor.”

Jules rubs my arm to get my attention and lowers her voice. “I know this isn’t real, but at least we can have fun planning the wedding.”

“Do you have a dress in mind?” Lola asks.

“The one I sketched,” I confess. “But how am I going to get it made on short notice? Most designers need months.”

“Oh, you know I got you covered, girl.” Lola takes a big gulp of her drink, her gaze falling to Amelia. “I know a designer who will hook you up, and he’s local.”

“Dante Drake loathes you,” Callie says to Lola. “I wouldn’t ask him to design our girl’s wedding gown.”

“Yeah, but he’s the best,” Lola challenges. “And he’ll say yes to me.”