“Huh.”
“What do you mean, ‘Huh?’”
Jazz gently laid a hand on my arm. “Not a bad, ‘huh.’ An ‘I’m surprised that I’m not surprised’ huh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, I mean it. You’re kind, intelligent, hilarious, and just enough of a weirdo to raise some top-shelf gremlins.”
My lips twitched. “Thanks.”
She squeezed my forearm, her lips twitching. “You’re practically the poster child for reformed fuck girls. Buying homes, getting married, talking about kids. You could become a life coach to the commitment challenged.”
“I plan on starting a YouTube channel. Secrets of a former fuck girl.”
“I’d watch it.”
“You could co-star with me.”
“Bitch.” Jazz smirked. “Who would’ve guessed we’d end up here? Marrying two squares.”
I nearly choked. There was a real possibility that Jazz and the rest of the world would know the truth about Luca if this fire and everything blew back on him. Life would be easier if he were a square.
“This is totally random, but who is the best criminal defense attorney in St. Louis?” Internally, I kicked myself for being so abrupt, but I trusted Jazz. She was an excellent corporate attorney with connections all over town. On top of that, she was the daughter of a federal judge.
She threw her head back and laughed. “You planning on killing someone?”
“No. Just curious.” I kept my eyes on the street, scanning for a parking spot.
“I guess that would be Fern Robison.” My mouth went dry, but I stayed quiet. “We went to law school together. A smart girl, but a little over the top on the granola shit, if you know what I mean.”
“What?”
“Oh, you know—Birkenstocks, vegan, PETA loving.” She paused, and her face scrunched up. “Lots of bandanas.”
I shook with laughter. “So, you weren’t besties?”
“Nah. That rock deodorant is where I draw the line.”
“I’m sorry? Rock deodorant.”
“Look it up. It’s wild.” Jazz fluffed her hair, the curls bouncing around her face.
Parking the car, I watched my mom and Rosa laughing as they walked toward the restaurant. “Get ready to see Maggie Mitchell tipsy. It’s truly a gift.”
The hostess sat us at the back of the restaurant at a long table under a lit-up “Glutton” sign. Frankie and Pete sat at two top next to us, where they had hushed conversations and kept their phones in reach.
“Are you sure you don’t want a drink, honey?” Mom patted Sarah’s hand as she took a sip from a fussy vodka number.
“I’m alright.” She gently pulled her hand away, resting it on her stomach. If she wasn’t careful, everyone would know her good news before she was ready.
“I think we should make a toast.” Ashley lifted her martini glass and winked at me. “To my best friend, finding the perfect wedding dress and bringing together the ultimate bridal party for an amazing day. To Sasha!”
“To Sasha!”
I smiled as we clinked glasses and took a sip of my pink gin and tonic.
“Sasha?” A voice cracked, drawing the attention of our entire table and the guys.