Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

PETE

Pete was running on three hours of sleep, four energy drinks, and five tiny powdered Donettes she’d bought at the gas station. All in all, a pretty good day. That was, until Danica Wendell showed up.

Pete wasn’t big on grudges — she had a poor memory, and usually couldn’t remember why the grudge was being held in the first place. This meant she was typically friends with every ex, but she’d replayed every moment of her and Danica’s time together so much that she remembered each word of that screaming fight out on the quad at 2 a.m. on graduation night.

It was the last time she’d seen Danica, her hair straight and shiny, still in her white lace graduation dress. The last thing Danica had ever said to Pete was an exasperated, “You’re never going to grow up, are you?” That had stung more than any of the horrible other things they’d said to each other that night. That’s why Pete had taken it on as a mantra. She was never going to grow up, thank you very much .

She may not have grown up by Danica’s definition, but she wasn’t the one throwing up in a planter box outside a rich lady’s condo.

She laughed to herself to even picture it now. Danica, so polished, doing something so disgusting that it would haunt her thoughts for years. She knew Danica well enough to know that throwing up in front of her friends was a nightmare scenario. For Pete, it was something that could happen on a casual Friday night after drinking and eating mystery meat from a street vendor.

As they walked into Aunt Jade’s condo — bless Kiera for having a rich aunt — she lagged behind, letting everyone choose their rooms before her. She didn’t care where she slept, since she’d hardly be in there. Her intention was to spend the most time she could on the slopes. She shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge to find it fully stocked with fancy prebiotic sodas and bottled craft beer. “Don’t mind if I do,” she mumbled, cracking open the top of a hazy IPA. Leaning against the counter, she took in the kitchen, which was decked out in marble and crisp white cabinetry. Had anyone ever cooked in this kitchen? She highly doubted it.

“Uh, sorry, Pete, but there’s only one room left and it’s bunk beds,” Izzy called out from the hallway.

“Bunk beds sound fun,” Pete called back to assuage any guilt Izzy felt about taking the last room with a nice bed. She walked around the oversized kitchen island to the living room. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined one wall, giving a view of Mountain Village, the tourist lodge area of Telluride. Rustic yet modern buildings, wide open slopes, and the main gondola into the ski resort lined the horizon. Bare aspens and snow-draped conifers spread in every direction from the grounds, except over what appeared to be a tennis court covered in a thick layer of snow.

She was still in her travel uniform, comfortable and familiar. Pete shoved her hands into the pockets of her worn tan chore jacket, the heavy cotton fabric soft from countless washes, its multiple pockets perfect for stashing everything from pens to snacks. She’d left the jacket unbuttoned, revealing the faded logo of a faded band t-shirt underneath. Her jeans were cuffed to show her high-top white Converse sneakers, which were scuffed from months of use but still held a certain timeless charm.

“If this is what being a childless, single woman gets you, I’m getting a divorce and giving back my kids,” Maggie said, walking into the living area to flop onto the couch. Two overstuffed chairs sat near the fireplace, facing a worn-in leather sofa. Maggie still looked as effortlessly cool as always, her collarbone length blonde hair still perfectly coiffed even after she’d taken off her beanie.

“Looks like I’m on the right path, then,” Pete joked, sinking into one of the chairs and turning to look at the stone-slab fireplace. She reached to flip the switch to turn on the gas, and flames rose immediately over the fake logs. A bit cheesy, but warm.

“Did y’all see the hot tub?” Izzy asked, walking into the room to stare out the window. Izzy, unlike Maggie, was still wearing a mustard yellow beanie over her blonde pixie, an oversized fleece pullover hiding most of her tiny frame.

“That’ll be nice for after my snowboarding lessons,” Maggie commented.

“You’re taking snowboarding lessons?” Pete asked, a brow raising. “Haven’t you been skiing since you were like, three?”

“Yeah, but I’ve never snowboarded, and I feel like this is my one chance to try it without worrying about the kids or my wife being there to need something from me.” Maggie said, letting out a deep, long breath.

“How many kids do you have now?” Pete asked.

Maggie smiled in a tired way. “Just the three. Why are you making that face?”

“I’m not making a face.” Pete took a long sip of her beer to try to hide whatever expression was giving her away. She glanced toward where Izzy was opening a bottle of red wine in the kitchen.

“You’re... grimacing.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed.

Pete swallowed, trying to hide her smile. “Well, you said just , as in, just three. Or, like, not that many, only three. Which, by all accounts, is a lot of kids.”

Maggie snorted. “I’m not like a Quiverfull person or whatever. Three kids aren’t that... Petra, I swear, if you don’t stop grimacing?—”

“What’s a Quiverfull person?” Izzy interrupted, walking in with three empty wine glasses and an uncorked bottle.

“I think it’s a weird religious thing, where you have fifteen kids like they’re arrows in your quiver to battle... Satan?” Maggie said, shrugging. “I’m unsure of the specifics.”

“Three kids doesn’t seem very battle-ready,” Pete said with a grin.

“Three kids are plenty for any kind of warfare. Currently the war is against their own personal demons, like kindergarten and broccoli,” Maggie said with the kind of smile that only a mother could have when talking about her kids.

“They’ll be shipshape for the Crusades any day, I’m sure.” Pete toasted her beer bottle.

“What about you? You were in Croatia?” Maggie asked.

Pete laughed. “Yeah, like a year ago. Since then, I’ve been in Portugal, Bali, and Mexico.”

“Forgive me for not keeping up,” Maggie deadpanned, and then glanced toward Izzy. “You went and visited her there, right?”

Izzy nodded. “It was gorgeous. Croatia. Who knew?”

“Anyone who has read Travel+Leisure in the past three years,” Kiera said, entering the great room and into the kitchen to grab herself a wine glass.

“No one reads magazines anymore,” Izzy said, rolling her eyes.

“I brought four just for this trip,” Kiera said, filling her glass with a hefty pour of wine. She tapped Maggie’s feet to get her to move them and give her a place to sit. Kiera had changed the most, in Pete’s opinion. Her short dark hair was curly, and her wire-framed glasses looked adorable on her round cheeks. She wore perfectly tailored jeans and smelled like she’d just bathed in lilac lotion. Pete found it nice that some things never changed about her old friends.

“Is Wendell feeling okay?” Pete asked.

Kiera nodded. “Yeah, I gave her a Zofran and she’s brushed her teeth four times. I think she’s planning to shower off the shame and be out soon.”

The mental image of Danica showering was not an unwelcome one, but it felt poorly timed, given she was in a room with other people. Danica in college had been gorgeous, funny, kind, driven, smart... all traits that Pete admired in her. Now, Danica was still stunning, but something was off about her. Maybe it had just been car sickness, but Pete couldn’t put her finger on it. She was a doctor now, so maybe she felt stressed about work? Her stomach tightened at the thought of Danica’s stupid fiancé, Eddie. A grown man who chose to be called Eddie. Disturbing, to say the least. Did Danica really moan “ Oh, Eddie ” when they were in bed? Could an “Eddie” even make a woman moan?

“What’s got you all flushed?” Izzy asked her with a wry grin that seemed to suggest Pete had her thoughts written all over her face.

Pete raised her glass. “Telluride is at a much higher elevation, so alcohol hits you quicker.”

“Should we talk about dinner or groceries?” Danica asked, swooping into the room wearing a fuzzy, loose lounge set and no bra. No bra. She was holding a bag of thread and an embroidery hoop, like she planned to cross stitch as they all relaxed and caught up. “Did everyone get the color-coded spreadsheet I sent?”

“The one where we were all color-coded and responsible for one dinner of the trip?” Maggie asked. “Yeah, I… opened it. I think.”

Danica pressed her lips into a thin line of irritation, messing with the curtain bangs that kept falling into her eyes. “I thought that might be the case, so I already ordered delivery tonight. We can talk details over Pad Thai.” Pete watched her pull something out of her pocket while walking toward the mantle and realized that Danica was cleaning the remote control with a disinfecting wipe. Yep, she’s the one who always had small hand sanitizers in her purse for nights out, insisting on hand cleaning before late-night pizza after leaving a bar. Every group had to have that one friend who acted as the mom, ensuring everyone’s hygiene and sustenance. The irony wasn’t lost on Pete: their group mom, a NICU doctor constantly surrounded by infants, was childless.

“Someone’s feeling better,” Kiera said with a smile.

“I do apologize for Vomit-pocalypse 2.0 out there. Usually, my ginger chews do the trick, but...” Danica shrugged, offhandedly disinfecting the door handle to the patio beside her, before sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“When was Vomit-pocalypse 1.0?” Maggie asked.

“The Mind Eraser roller coaster at Elitch’s. Junior year,” Kiera said, shaking her head and laughing as the other three all groaned with the remembrance.

“Unfortunately, my mind was never erased,” Danica said solemnly to a round of laughter.

The only updates Pete had heard about Danica had come from whatever passing information Izzy shared about the group. Izzy was the only person she’d stayed in touch with, because Izzy was the only one who respected that Pete sometimes just needed space. Pete had spent the last fifteen years building the Second Star foundation, her pride and joy. She’d started it after selling an app and a few fortuitous investments, but she’d had the right skills at the right time. Now, she spent her time traveling, exploring, meeting extraordinary people, and being the kind of light she’d needed when she was younger.

Danica, with her chestnut brown hair, so rich it almost looked red in certain lights. Danica, with those ocean blue eyes that could always see straight through all of Pete’s bullshit. Danica, with that damned oversized top that showed a bit of her collarbone and shoulder, hinting at the pale skin Pete knew extended everywhere, fair and soft. Danica, with no bra.

Had Danica’s bra succumbed to the car sickness, as well? Had it disintegrated in her suitcase?

“Izzy, I made sure to get you the vegan Pad Thai. Pete, I have no idea what you prefer these days.” Danica’s cheeks colored at the innuendo, a light rose brushstroke right under her eyes in a way that Pete found incredibly adorable.

Pete cleared her throat. “I’m not picky.”

Danica looked away, fidgeting with her embroidery hoop.

Danica was so different from her. That’s what had caused their last fight. What future could two people who wanted such different things actually have? They had been together because of their physical proximity, first on the same dorm floor, then eventually in the same apartment building near campus.

Back then, Pete felt their relationship was a matter of convenience for both. Fun and lighthearted, it required no label. That’s what she’d wanted back then, what she thought they’d both wanted. Did that make it hurt any less when they had to come to terms with it? Absolutely not.

And it wasn’t any easier now to see Danica Wendell fifteen years later, sitting on the floor with a needle and thread, sipping a stupid prebiotic soda.

Food delivered and wine glasses refilled, they enjoyed their Pad Thai and vegetable spring rolls while allowing Danica to pretend she needed their input for the weeks’ worth of dinners. She planned the entire week, the grocery list, and even put them in pairs to make the cooking easier. Pete and Izzy would have pizza night, Kiera and Maggie were in charge of Taco Tuesday, and Danica was going to cook another night on her own. That left them without dinners for three nights, where they could explore a few local restaurants.

As the women ate and talked, Pete tried to commit the names of Maggie and Kiera’s children to memory. Learning that Danica’s wedding didn’t have a date or venue surprised her, even though their engagement had lasted almost two years. Danica seemed to either avoid or redirect every wedding planning question whenever it came up. Pete masked her surprise and delight by quickly drinking a large gulp of her beer. She was feeling a bit lightheaded by the time they cleaned up their dinner. Maggie, Kiera, and Danica all claimed to be exhausted, and headed towards the bedrooms, making plans for an early morning of picking up their rental gear.

Not ready to end the night just yet, Izzy and Pete grabbed their coats and blankets and relocated to the patio, turning on an outdoor heater to keep them warm. Pete sniffled, the cold air making her nose run. For being a tourist lodging area, it was so quiet outside. Maybe it was the way snow always dampened noise, muffling the sounds of the world. She always loved that the most. The quiet, calmness of snow.

Pete’s breath fogged in front of her face and Izzy leaned against her for warmth, holding her wine glass through the blanket. Izzy was like a tiny Polly Pocket of a person, and they’d always been affectionate friends, but Pete realized how much she missed her best friend. She’d spent the better part of a decade quite alone, traveling and throwing herself into running Second Star. “This place is nice,” Izzy said in a hushed tone, like she didn’t want to disturb the silence too much, either.

Pete made a noise of agreement.

“Is it weird seeing everyone again?” Izzy asked.

“A little,” Pete confessed. “Not bad weird. Just weird weird.”

Izzy snorted, sipping her wine with her blanketed hands. “That makes no sense.”

Pete sniffled again, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath of the frosty night air. “We’re just such different people now. Kiera and Maggie have kids and spouses, and Danica’s a doctor.”

Izzy turned to look at Pete, raising a brow. “And what about you and me?”

“We’ve paved our own paths instead of following orders,” Pete said with a firm nod that reminded her exactly how much she’d drank at such a high elevation. Whew. She was definitely feeling that third beer now.

“I’m not exactly sure that being divorced and working at a bar at 37 is really the dream,” Izzy said. “It’s not like I’ve avoided settling down on purpose.”

“You’ve just been confusing settling down with settling,” Pete said, wrapping an arm around her oldest friend.

Izzy nodded but her posture shifted as she seemed to pointedly avoid Pete’s eye. “How’s seeing Danica again?”

“Did you notice she wasn’t even wearing a bra?” Pete asked, a cloud of fog forming as she exhaled in exasperation.

Izzy frowned. “No? Was I supposed to?”

“I just thought it was obvious.” Pete bristled, taking Izzy’s wine glass and stealing a sip. “But you know, it’s fine. It’s totally fine seeing her again. I’m fine.”

“You seem totally fine,” Izzy deadpanned. “I mean, I know the breakup was tough, but?—”

Pete cut her off with a forced snort of amusement. “Clearly there are no hard feelings because we’re both here.”

Izzy took her wine glass again, swirling the last sip of liquid around and around. “There are no hard feelings on your part? Really?” She tilted her head, and Pete didn’t appreciate the skeptical narrowing of her eyes.

Pete shook her head emphatically.

Izzy eyed her doubtfully but didn’t push her for more information. That was why she loved Izzy. She wasn’t trying to push Pete too far, or change her, or make her feel bad for falling off the map sometimes. Pete was like a discounted, imperfect piece of IKEA furniture and Izzy accepted her as-is.

“We should get to bed if we’re going to beat the worst of the lift lines tomorrow.” Izzy said, throwing the blanket off of them both.

Pete shivered and reached to turn off the heater, following her back inside. She couldn’t shake off the skeptical look that Izzy had given her. What had Izzy seen that Pete didn’t? As with most difficult feelings, Pete had packaged them up and compartmentalized them almost immediately, only to be unwrapped in her sporadic therapy sessions. Her feelings about Danica had stayed in the box for fifteen years, double-taped and super glued shut, and that’s exactly where she wanted them to stay this week.