“I asked if you thought I’d be a good mom.”
“And we said yes,” Avery asserted.
Millie searched her friends’ faces for confirmation. “That was a yes?”
“Well, yeah,” Kate said.
“Of course,” Avery concurred. “Remember? ‘Definitely not Disney’?”
“And definitely not a Nick at Nite mom,” Kate reminded her.
“But a real kind of mom.” Avery shrugged as if the conclusion was obvious. “One who does her best. Loves fiercely. Sometimes you might screw up, but I bet you’d do the job right most days.”
Without so much as a tingle of warning, an appalling rush of emotion engulfed Millie. Every doubt and worry she’d been wrestling with since Ty walked out of her house evaporated. Hot tears scalded her eyes and clogged her throat. The cold lump of ache lodged in her chest exploded, scattering fragments of raw need like shrapnel.
Her hand trembled as she clamped her fingers over her mouth, trying to hold in a sob. It was no good. A shudder racked her body, and the low, keening moan seeped out from between shaky fingers.
In a heartbeat, the bowls and bottles surrounding her were displaced. Kate wrapped her long, strong arms around her tight. Avery scooted in close and Millie sighed as she sank into their comforting embraces. At last, sandwiched between the two best friends ever to walk the earth, she let go.
“Oh God.” She gasped between bouts of hysterical, snotty sobbing.
“I know,” Kate crooned.
She stroked Millie’s hair clumsily, but with such tender affection Millie cried even harder. Kate squeezed tighter, and so did Avery. Millie might have protested on any other day, but today, she needed this. Wanted it. The second her harsh sobs subsided, Avery took advantage of her vulnerable state and pressed a hard, smacking kiss to her temple.
“This isn’t a tragedy, Mil.” Avery spoke the words with quiet conviction. As if this were a subject she knew she had to make clear for a final exam. “Tragedies don’t allow for disorder. Their path is set from the beginning, and the end is inescapable. No one is going to die from this.” She leaned her head against Millie’s, as though she might get her point across via mind meld. “If anything, this is a comedy. The plot is sloppy and chock-full of errors. You and Ty have both been trying so hard to stay disengaged, but everyone watching this farce of yours play out knows you’re not.”
Millie tensed, offended by her friend’s lighthearted choice of words. “Farce?”
But Avery didn’t back down. “Yes, a farce. Right now, it’s a little more Blake Edwards than Noël Coward, but you get what I mean.” She squeezed harder. “It’s not funny because it’s happening to you. I understand, but try to take a step back.”
Millie wanted to, but she couldn’t move so much as an inch, much less take any kind of step.
“You want him, he wants you, but he’s married to her. Then he’s not married to her anymore, but you’re all gun-shy because you can’t call the shots, so you try to hold him off by making up all sorts of ridiculous rules. He chases you around, and you let him catch you. Of course, the poor audience doesn’t get to see the frolicking and fucking taking place behind closed doors. Suckers should have paid for better seats.” She drew a dramatic breath before plunging ahead. “Mari pops up with a super surprise baby, and everyone scatters, doors slamming all over the place.” She chuckled. “Hell, we should try to get Neil Simon to write the script.”
“Avery,” Kate warned.
But Millie shook her head to stop her. Avery was right. This wasn’t a tragedy. Ty was going to have the kid he always wanted. Maybe it wasn’t happening in the way he’d imagined, but that didn’t mean his plan for his life couldn’t change. And so could hers. It would be different. Not simple. Definitely wackier. But maybe better.
“No, she’s right,” Millie whispered, lifting her head as the truth settled in. “This is a farce.”
The three of them clung to one another for a second longer, then Avery released them. Kate’s arms fell to her sides, but a deep furrow creased her brow. Out of habit, Millie reached over and smoothed the wrinkle away with her thumb. “Keep that up, and Aunt Millie will be filling your Christmas stocking with botulism shots.”
A faint smile curved Kate’s lips, but it vanished almost as fast as it came. “Since when is a farce a good thing?”
Avery waved the question away. “Common misconception. A farce is a form of comedy. Broad comedy played for laughs, so it gets a bad rap. But comedies usually have happy endings.” She smirked and fell back against the arm of the sofa, her gaze locked on Millie’s profile. “All we need to do is figure out how to get past all the door slamming and get you to your happily ever after.”
Millie resisted the urge to make a Drew Barrymore comment. One slip, and these two would be back to vomiting bits of pop culture. “Might be easier said than done.”
Kate pursed her lips, then dismissed the notion with a brisk shake of her head. “Nah. This is a man we’re dealing with. They are not complex creatures.”
“Truer words were never spoken.” Avery pushed into the armrest and practically catapulted herself from the sofa. “Come on. Might as well start with the big guns to show him we mean business.” She looked down at Millie, her hands planted on rounded hips. “Show us the naughty underwear you bought.”
“Naughty underwear?”
Kate nodded, approving Avery’s opening salvo. “It really is amazing how weak a scrap of lace can make someone. Pathetic, actually.” She rose and picked her way carefully through the elaborate array of junk food and adult beverages. “I try not to think about how weak men are when it comes to sex. I hate to admit I married such easy prey, you know?”
Avery followed her toward the short corridor
