Ah! "So you have your eye on one of them?"
"Maybe…" she giggles.
The sound is so infectious, I can’t stop my lips from curving. Maybe she isn't bad company, after all.
We reach the entrance to the tube station and I hesitate.
She turns to me, "It’s only a few stops on the train to get to Summer’s place."
"Her house?" I swallow, uh, "I really don’t think that’s a good idea."
She grips my arm, "Nonsense, you’re soaked."
"I’ll dry."
"Surely, you don't want to be alone?"
I bite my lips.
"It’s a good old-fashioned stay over, which we haven’t done in a while, and that’s important, you know? Female friendships are ah-may-z-i-n-g!" she sing-songs.
Not always, but…okay.
"We women, we need to have each other’s backs…" She rocks forward on the balls of her feet, "...especially when you need a shoulder to lean on, ya know?
I narrow my gaze.
"Not that you need anyone else…" She jostles the strap of her hand bag, "...but we’d love to have you. With Summer married…we need more single gals in our group to exchange notes about eligible men…"
I wince.
"Ouch." She hunches her shoulders, "Didn’t want to remind you of your newly-single status."
I lower my chin.
"Jeez, didn’t mean to imply that you had to start looking right away or anything, not so soon after your husband's death… I mean—" she makes a choking noise.
I draw myself up, pat her shoulder. "It’s okay. Summer’s father and I were married, but we weren't ever intimate."
Her lips open in an 'O.'
Shit, hadn’t meant to reveal that to her. What the hell is wrong with me? "That’s our secret, huh?"
She grins, "You betcha. See, we’re already getting along so well." She steps into the tube station. "You must come with me. Summer would never forgive me if I didn't bring you along."
I wrap my arms about my waist.
She turns, "Come on, you'll enjoy it. I promise."
I shuffle me feet.
"Jeez, I’m sorry." She glances past me, then breaks into a run. "Taxi," she calls out.
A black cab pulls up to the curb.
She wrenches open the door, tumbles in, then beckons, "Coming?"
Half an hour later we draw up in front of a gorgeous townhouse in Primrose Hill. I lean forward to pay off the driver. Amelie waves me off. She hands over a few notes, then opens the door and jumps out. I follow her across the sidewalk. She opens the gate, then bounds up the path to the front door.
The taxi drives off. I glance up and down the road. The trees are bathed in the fading sun, raindrops glittering on the leaves. The hair on the nape of my neck prickles. Is someone watching me? I stare through the fading light…but nothing stirs.
Voices reach me and I turn to find Amelie and Summer talking in front of the open door to the house. I hesitate. Do I want to be here? I should turn and go, but where? To the short let in Hackney, which is all I am able afford? No, I am better off walking in, facing the women. Learning more about the Seven. Okay, about one of them, in particular. I was handed one last opportunity to find my way out of this mess and I am going to take it. I square my shoulders, then walk down the path.
When I reach the short flight of steps leading to the door, I look up. Summer smiles at me, holds out a hand. The breath rushes out of me. I take the steps, pause when I reach her. She closes the distance between us, hugs me. "Welcome home."
Tears knock at the backs of my eyes. Jesus, why am I getting this emotional? Summer steps back, then tugs on my arm, "You’re soaked, let me get you some fresh clothes."
Half an hour later, after having showered and pulled on the clothes that Summer had left for me in the guest bedroom, I walk into the cozy room overlooking the back garden.
Summer had offered to wash and dry my clothes in the washing machine and I had agreed.
Amelie looks up, then jumps to her feet. She walks forward and takes my hand, "Come on, we’re having Margaritas and ice cream."
Thunder cracks outside, then lightning illuminates the space in front of the room. I jump, my heartbeat ratcheting up.
Amelie’s hand on mine tightens. "I don’t like storms either," she whispers. In that moment, I want to hug her close. She tugs me forward and I follow her, sinking down on the large circular settee that faces the large window at the back of the room.
Summer walks over, a pitcher of margaritas in her hand.
"Umm. I’m not sure if I should," I mumble.
"You absolutely should." Summer laughs.
I hesitate.
"If you don’t, our hostess will be most unhappy and you don’t want that do you?" Amelia leans forward, holds out an empty glass.
Summer tops it off. Amelie hands it over and I wrap my fingers around it. "Could I get a bigger glass? I’ll finish this in no time."
Amelie stares at the soup bowl-sized circumference, then cackles.
Summer laughs.
The fourth girl chuckles. She comes forward holding, her own glass. "I’m Isla, by the way." She raises her glass. "What are we drinking to?"
The three look at each other, then Summer turns to me, "To having family close."
I swallow.
"To friendship," Amelie clinks hers with Summer’s.
"To… Orgasms?" Isla flutters her eyelashes.
I allow my lips to twitch. "To being fucked until I can’t walk straight for days," I offer.
There’s silence, then the girls burst out laughing. Summer sputters, "I’ll drink to that."
"As if you need to?" Isla winks at Summer, "If the sparks between Sinclair and you are any indication, that’s a normal state for you."
Summer makes the sign to zip her lips, "Not saying anything.”
"You never share any details," Amelie pouts.
"Not one to kiss and tell." Summer raises her glass, "To guys who love us."
"To the losers who didn’t deserve to keep us," Amelie tosses her head.
"The sexy bastards who are gonna be so lucky
