and fill their father’s need for business talk. Formal dinners with everyone in attendance occurred only when someone organized a summit. “Sunday dinner? Who called it?”
“Me. I’m breaking the news to everyone that I’m striking out on my own.” Bethany sent Georgie a look down her nose. “If you’d been here on time, you’d know that.”
“Sorry. I’ll be there. Solidarity and all that. Yada yada.”
“Are you bringing Travis?”
Her skin flushed. Bring Travis to a family dinner? Why not just hang herself in a museum so everyone could walk by and pick her apart? “I’ll ask him.”
Rosie rubbed a circle into her back. “Did you go on your date with the fireplace guy?”
“No. Something came up,” she hedged. And looking over at Rosie and her soft, encouraging expression, Georgie encountered a swift kick of guilt. “Rosie, I have to tell you something. I really have no excuse for not calling you sooner . . . I’ve just been so distracted. But you can punch me in the stomach afterward, if you need to.”
Rosie drew back her hand slowly. “What is it?”
“Dominic knows about the newspapers under the mattress. He mentioned it to Travis.” She gave her friend an apologetic look. “You need to find a new hiding spot.”
Two spots of color appeared on Rosie’s cheeks. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why should you be sorry?” Rosie gestured to the bottle of tequila with the international symbol for “pour.” “I mean, you’re not the grown man ignoring his wife, instead of just asking her questions and having a normal conversation. That would be too much to ask for. Stupid . . . jackass.”
Rosie slapped a hand over her mouth.
After pouring a round of shots, Bethany picked up a pen and scratched some notes on a nearby legal pad. “We’re going to have to meet twice this week. No way we can cover cock talk and get important things done—”
“Bethany?” Georgie said.
“What?”
“Lose the agenda.”
Her older sister primly set aside the work pad. “Might I suggest, Rosie, that instead of hiding newspapers under the mattress, tomorrow you leave a dead rat in their place?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of my vibrator. It’s capable of more affection than Dominic lately.” Rosie split a look between them. “Tequila makes me overshare.”
“We’re here to overshare. It’s encouraged,” Georgie murmured, sympathy for Rosie’s obvious relationship troubles swimming in her stomach. “Did you find a commercial space for the restaurant yet?”
“There’s one,” Rosie whispered. “There’s one I like. But I’m not ready to . . .” She shook her head. “I’m not ready yet. I’m good with my newspapers for now.”
The front door of Bethany’s house blew open, Kristin breezing in with a basket full of muffins. “Hello, ladies,” she twanged in her Georgia accent. “I heard y’all were having a meeting tonight and I came by to join the club.”
Bethany narrowed her eyes at their sister-in-law, who was making herself busy at the kitchen bar, putting muffins on plates. “How did you know about the club?”
“Stephen found out from your mama.”
“Shit,” Bethany muttered. “Why do we tell that woman anything? She’s like a colander and yet we continue to pour in information.”
“So this is about thumbing our nose at men, right?” Kristin trilled excitedly, sliding onto a stool at the island in one graceful motion while balancing three plates of muffins. “If so, count me in. I’m leaving your brother. He’s really done it this time.”
Georgie bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “What did Stephen do?”
Kristin huffed. “I made him lunch to bring to work this morning. Pecan chicken, fresh-baked rolls, and a cucumber salad. Do you know he left it in the fridge?” She set down the plates with a clatter, balled up her fists, and perched them on her knees. “I would have forgiven him, only he came home from work tonight and didn’t say anything about it. Nothing about how he suffered without my chicken or how terrible his fast-food replacement lunch was. Not a darn thing. So I waited until he got in the shower and I left. I won’t be underappreciated.”
“Kristin,” Rosie started. “Maybe he just had that tired work brain. He probably would have opened the fridge sooner or later and remembered he forgot to take your chicken.”
“Also,” Bethany chimed in with mock sincerity, “we’re literally talking about chicken here, so—”
“Pecan chicken,” Georgie cut in smoothly, patting Kristin’s arm and trying not to show how ridiculous she found the complaint. “One of his favorites, right, Kristin?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up at