thinking about the scars we both carry. About the ghosts of past relationships hovering above, waiting for the moment to swoop into the space between us.
***
It’s after five when I roll into the coffee shop. I know it’s late to be chugging gallons of espresso, but I can’t resist the siren call of caffeine.
Apparently, I’m not alone.
“Hey, buttface.” Lana waves from the table she’s sharing with Lauren and Mari. It’s rare to see all three sisters together, so I’m beelining it for their table before my brain catches up and reminds me I came here for some alone time.
Mari’s got her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. “How’d the interviews go?”
“Bankers, right?” Lauren scrunches up her face. “Please tell me you’re not hiring the guy who cried about his ex-wife in the screen test.”
“That would be Bill.” Poor bastard. “Nah, we had a really good interview with the woman from Minnesota. Angie someone.”
“Waller.” Mari gives a nod of approval. “I liked her answers on the questionnaire.”
Lana cocks her head. “We’ve got a female CFO, a female banker, and if Amy Lovelin signs on, a female police chief. Are we going to start hiring men at some point?”
“Do we have to?” Lauren makes a face. “Maybe we could find a female building contractor and scrap the idea of hiring Nick Armbrust.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I settle for letting Mari and Lana give her sympathetic pats. I always liked Nick, though I have no idea what happened between him and Lauren.
“Want me to have him murdered?” I’m only half joking. “Pretty sure Dad has some mob connections.”
“Thanks, I’ll consider it.” Lauren swipes a hunk of muffin off Lana’s plate. “How’s Vanessa doing?”
“Great.” I fight to keep my face from giving anything away, from breaking into a big, doofy grin.
“I got to meet Roughneck.” Lana beams like she met Santa or George Clooney. Or George Clooney dressed as Santa, which I’m pretty sure happened at one of our family Christmas parties. “She says I can go over anytime and read to him.”
“Read?” Mari cocks her head. “Is that some sort of therapy?”
“I guess so.” Lana shrugs. “Anyway, I get to walk him every day at ten. I bought my own leash and everything.”
My baby sister, the animal nut. It still kills me to think of the day her hamster went to the big sawdust heap in the sky. Lana cried for days, stopping only when I forced Gabe and Cooper to help build the biggest blanket fort she’d seen in her life. The thing had two stories, and Lana sat inside singing while we tacked up a roof made from our mom’s best French linens.
“So really, how is Vanessa?” Lauren shoots a smug look at Lana, and they both start giggling.
“What?” I look from Lana to Lauren, then Mari. “What the hell is wrong with them?”
She shrugs. “I’ve wondered that my whole life.”
Lana swats her arm, then leans forward to grin at me. “Lauren and I were making dinner the other night,” she says. “The evening of that really pretty sunset?”
I sigh, knowing what’s coming. Lana’s kitchen looks out over Vanessa’s back deck. “We were just getting it out of our systems,” I insist. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
The three of them exchange a look. “Wait, what?” Lauren laughs. “You mean something happened?”
“Yeah, we just saw you bringing dog food through the front door.” Lauren grins at Mari. “Apparently, that’s not all he delivered.”
“God.” I put my head in my hands and consider what my life would be like without three sisters. I might like to find out. “I’m going to recant my statement.”
“Actually,” Mari says, coming to my rescue, “there’s some scientific basis for the notion of getting someone out of your system like that.”
“Yeah?” Lauren perks up. “How do you mean?”
“There was this study a few years ago through the University of Washington.” Mari shoves her glasses up her nose. “They investigated the theory that it could be therapeutic for exes to plan a mutually-agreed-upon sexual encounter with carefully established parameters as a means of establishing closure for the relationship.”
Lauren cocks her head to the side. “You mean a bunch of shrinks invited random exes to bang it out for the sake of science?”
Mari shrugs. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Damn.” Lana steals a bite of Lauren’s cookie. “What did they find out?”
Mari folds her hands on the table. “They determined that a structured regimen with established guidelines for physical contact led most couples to