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“Were disasters,” I say, interrupting her. “I’m fine, Millie. I don’t need a guy, I just need a new… life.” I turn to stare at the screen with the tab on the list of job openings. “You can get paid for losing weight? How does that work?”

Kenzie shrugs. “If you become one of those coaches who messages all their friends about an awesome opportunity to lose weight, I’ll be forced to rescind our friendship.”

Her sober expression gets to me, and the room erupts in laughter. When I finally calm down, I take in a deep breath, grinning as I picture Kenzie packing up her stuff.

“I’m the worst at selling things to people I know. I’'s a lot easier to call a random number with a script. So I think you’re good.” I’d experimented with refinishing furniture as a hobby a few months back and realized that the process lost me money, since I practically gave the furniture away to people.

“What’s coming up for everyone?” I ask, scrolling up a page on the job search website.

“Work.” It’s a general consensus.

“That’s it? You’re all giving me a hard time for not dating, but I haven’t seen many men coming to the door since you all moved in.” I give them all a grin to soften the tension that rises.

“Seeing how the only man who gives me the time of the day is the one person I loathe, it’s going to be a while for me,” Millie says, leaning against the door frame.

Kenzie nods. “I’m one bad date away from striking out the side.”

“I don’t get it,” I finally say after a moment of silence.

“Well, to strike out the side means that the team has three outs, and to strike a batter out, you have to get three strikes. I’ve got eight strikes total, the last one being Tiffany’s husband. I’m just glad there’s no weird tension between us because of it.”

The memory of when Kenzie first moved in pops into my mind. Instead of unpacking, she basically divulged every past relationship she’d ever had, or tried to have. Blind dates who made her pay for the entire dinner. One guy who took off, leaving her at the other end of Boston after they’d gone to a concert together.

The best one is how an older lady tried to set her up with Tiffany’s husband, Drew, before he knew Tiffany. I haven’t laughed that hard since she told it. But now I’m curious about her anger toward a guy breaking up after proposing. Maybe she hasn’t shared that one yet?

There’s a knock on the door and Tiffany opens the door, walking in with a wide smile.

“Are you having a house meeting?” She glances around at the group and they all shrug.

“We were listening to how paint balling went.”

Tiffany slips past Kenzie and Millie, taking a seat on the small rocking chair in the corner. “How’d it go?”

Kenzie and Evie motion that they need to get back to whatever they’re doing, and Millie follows, taking a piece of chocolate Kenzie hands her.

“Just about how I thought it would go. I lack the natural talent for shooting people.” I think back on seeing Landon and how easy it was to pelt him with paintballs. At least some of my frustration eased up. “Okay, I take that back. I do well when I’m angry.”

“That could be said about anything you do,” Tiffany says with a grin. My cousin has always been the relaxed one, but I’ve never seen her quite as happy as she’s been since getting married to Drew.

“I might’ve shot Landon.”

Tiffany leans forward, putting on her “give me the gossip” face. “Are you serious? What happened? Tell me everything.”

I sum it up in about three minutes and Tiffany is nearly bouncing in her seat. “I can’t believe you shot him. How do you feel now? I know you’ve been focused on the BBL for the past couple months. Any residual feelings?”

My brain is saying no while my heart is calling me on my lie. So I compromise with my answer. “I saw him for all of thirty seconds, Tiff. It’s kind of hard to get a romantic reading when you’re blasting orange paintballs at someone.”

“This just keeps getting better and better. I’d heard he went to Chicago for a bit, but he must be home now, at least to visit.”

I frown. “I doubt he’s visiting. The woman on his team was talking about him being the team leader. I’m not sure what business, but I doubt he’d haul everyone up to paintball in Boston when they’ve got to have spots in Chicago.” My mind whirs with her words and I say, “How did you hear about Chicago?”

Tiffany takes a moment to lick her lips, which means she’s coming up with some kind of excuse. “I saw Dani a few weeks back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To be honest, I forgot. With work and getting settled in our place, it’s been a busy couple months.” Tiffany gives me an apologetic look and I have to remember that my life doesn’t revolve around the Higgins family. Nor am I trying to be a spy.

I begin an internal war with myself over whether I should ask if any more details were shared.