Page 16 of Never Dance with the Devils

“He. Did. Not.” I gasp, clutching my chest in reaction to Samantha’s revelation that my brother-slash-her husband stomped grapes on their recent trip to the wine country in California.

“Oh, yes, he did,” Samantha confirms, nodding and grinning wide as she pushes her dark hair back over her shoulder. “Rolled his khakis right up, pulled off his argyle socks and loafers, and stepped right in.”

The whole group squeals in excitement. From her spot on the floor, Luna even kicks her bare feet in the air, laughing giddily.

This is my favorite part of Girls’ Night In, hearing all the latest happenings in my sisters-in-laws’ lives. It’s the sisterhood I never had growing up but instead has been created by my brothers finding their partners—some with a little help from yours truly, usually by telling my brothers to get their heads out of their asses when needed.

I’m not at all shocked that Samantha climbed into avat of grapes. She probably hopped in before they finished the invitation, excited for the new experience and ready to feel the smush between her toes. My brother, Chance? Totally different story. He’s the most uptight, reserved, proper gentleman type I’ve ever met, and his even being barefoot in public would surprise me.

“Did he panic-schedule foot scrubs at the spa for the two of you?” I mutter, one hundred percent certain I already know the answer—unequivocally yes.

Samantha drops her chin, feigning a shyness she doesn’t possess an ounce of. “Well, I’ll say every inch of my feet were definitelycleaned.” Her eyes flash teasingly, and she crickets her pedicured feet together, implying something naughty I definitely do not want to hear about my brother.

“TMI,” I warn, waving my hands back and forth.

“You mean not enough-I,” Dani counters, with a gimme-more motion of her hands. “Feel free to spill all the tea.”

Samantha just laughs. She’s a relationship therapist who specializes in intimacy and communication and also hosts a podcast with Chance, so oversharing is relative in her world. “Here’s to living life loud and proud, each of us doing whatever the hell we want,” she cheers, raising her glass of sangria.

“Here, here,” we answer as a chorus, holding our glasses in the air enthusiastically.

As a group, we’re a complete mish-mash of personalities, from soft to hard, business-minded professional to mom-focused, and if you wrote us all down as characters in a book, we would never make sense, but somehow,in our reality, we do. None of us have really had a friend group like this before, and even now, we keep it small and tight, trusting only ourselves and each other. And we all live life the way we want, each so different, but all doing exactly what Samantha said—living loud and proud.

A whisper of a doubt ghosts through my mind.Am I doing that?

A few days ago, I would’ve said yes. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am and enjoy the life I’ve carefully curated for myself. But the unexpected reappearance of Riggs and Maddox has made me question more than their motives. Like exactly who they are.

They probably hadn’t made it out of the building before I’d gone into FBI stealth research mode—Googling their names, clicking through dozens of pictures of them, both in and out of their uniforms, watching interviews, and reading articles about them, including several that made particular mention of their reputations as the bad boys of hockey. Apparently, they’re well known as ‘teammates’ off the ice too. I wasn’t surprised since Maddox said they knew what to do and they’d been much more comfortable and confident in that situation than me. At least at first.

But finding a Reddit thread that lists a threesome with them as some sort of rare experience to be collected and coveted like a vintage Chanel bag didn’t make me feel special. It cheapened the experience. Until I remembered that they tracked me down, claiming to want more than a memory of our one night. According to internet lore, that isn’t their MO. Still, the very idea that they have an MO in regardto threesomes is concerning.

The clink of Luna’s glass against Samantha’s brings me out of my thoughts and back to the here and now. “On that note, I have news to share too,” Luna says.

Samantha looks ready to jump up and down, so she obviously already knows, which isn’t surprising. Long before they married my brothers—Luna to Carter and Samantha to Chance—they were best friends. They’re the quintessential example of opposites attract. Where Samantha exudes professional, luxe femininity, Luna looks like a college art student at best, in too-big overalls, brown hair tied up in messy space buns, and owl-like oversized glasses.

The rest of us wait with bated breath for her to spill. It could be anything from her scheduling a new Comic-Con appearance for the graphic novel series she writes to acquiring a piece for the extensive artwork collection she manages.

“Carter and I are gonna start trying.” Behind her glasses, Luna’s eyes sparkle with the announcement, and it takes me a split second to realize she means trying for a baby.

Janey is the first to react, clapping her hands excitedly. “Oh my God! We can be mom friends!”

“I’m sitting right here,” Riley, my brother Cameron’s fiancé, teases in a stage-whisper, mock glaring at Janey because she’s currently Janey’s only mom friend. To Luna, she adds, “Yeah to more mom friends!”

Luna laughs, holding a staying hand up. “Slow down. We just decided, so it’ll be a bit before I’m a mom.” Like the idea of that is only now hitting her, her face goes comically blank. “I’m gonna be a mom,” she whispers breathily. “I don’t know how to do that. Whatif I suck at it?” Fear and doubt slash across her face, her eyes wide as she searches for reassurance.

“You won’t,” Janey promises her. “We won’t let you.” She pulls Riley in to include her in the ‘we’. They’re a team of two inside our group too. Beyond their friendship, Riley is the nanny for Janey and Cole’s son, Emmett, two days a week while Janey works as a nurse.

“The fact that you’re already worried tells me that you’ll do great,” Riley agrees, her armful of bracelets jingling as her hands never stop moving. Despite being the youngest and newest addition to our group, her word holds weight on the topic of parenthood. Because even if she weren’t an experienced nanny, she stepped into the role of stepmother to my thirteen-year-old niece, Grace, with unexpected ease. And that’s saying something because we affectionately call Grace an adorable terror, and that’s before she’s caffeinated. Which she frequently is, despite supposedly only being allowed Starbucks once a week.

Conversation drifts to Luna and Carter being excited about the possibilities the future holds, and though I listen, I can’t relate. I’m the only single Harrington sibling and the only single woman in the room. That fact certainly hasn’t escaped my notice, but historically, I’ve taken on more of a maternal role with my brothers, standing in Mom’s stead when she’s not here, so I’ve never concerned myself with something as selfish as dating.

I never cared, but suddenly, I feel very stagnant.

Carter and Luna have been married for a few years now and are starting a family. Chance and Samantha are married and their ‘baby’ is Chance’s fraternity-style club, where they’re shaping the future for dozens ofyoung men. Riley and Cameron have only been together a short while, but they did things a bit backward and were living together as employer-employee before falling in love, and now, they’re engaged and happily living the family life. Janey and Cole are a family of three, with Emmett recently celebrating his first birthday. And Dani, who’s been quietly listening, lives with Kyle and his baby-ified doofus of a dog, Peanut Butter. I don’t know if they have plans for marriage and children, but they’re rock-solid.

And then there’s me, with nothing more than Ghosts of Hook-Ups Past showing up at my office.

“Emmett isthis closeto taking his first steps!” Janey shares, popping two peanut butter M&M’s into her mouth but rambling right on as she chews. “He uses the coffee table to stand up, and then transitions to the couch, and he lets go for so long now. Like an entire minute at a time!” She does a wiggle dance of celebration in her spot in the corner of the couch. “And he does this cute little high-knees move, and I swear, he’s gonna put his foot down and take actual steps any day now. Like maybe tonight… probably.” Mom guilt flashes through her eyes. “Oh my God, what if I miss it?”