“We’re gonna be a while, Rainy,” Braithe said, looking embarrassed. She had no makeup on yet, and she was wearing one of the hotel gowns. A hair dryer roared to life in one of the rooms, and Ursa began wandering around in a towel, looking for her curling iron. It was female chaos.

She should have taken a longer shower, washed her hair, put on a more complicated outfit...but the trouble was, Rainy didn’t know how to take a long time to do things; she rushed through everything, which made her feel like she was failing at being a woman. These women were part of a ritual that she didn’t understand: bonding through talk and preparation.

It’s just not how you grew up, she thought, and then flinched. Sara always seeped into her memory when she was in a group of women, even when she tried to keep her out. The normalcy of these women, talking and laughing together, made her long for something she hadn’t allowed herself since then...since Sara.

“The shops and bars downstairs are great if you want to get started without us.” Braithe’s voice pulled her out of her feelings, dropping her into less complicated ones. They were trying to get rid of her. Did she care?

“I’ll go walk around for a bit,” she offered, standing up. If they wanted to talk about her, let them. They needed to dissect her answers to the game, right? Well, she needed space.

“I’ll text you when we’re heading down,” Braithe called to her.

Grabbing her bag, Rainy chewed the inside of her cheek as she made her way to the door. The sounds she left behind were familiar, the sounds female friends made when they were together. Happy sounds. And more importantly, their sounds; she was not included.

When she saw how crowded the lobby was, she decided to wait downstairs in the hotel bar instead of fighting her way through the bodies that clogged the hallways. Soon, she was sipping a beer and watching the TV as an excited meteorologist updated them on the storm. She hadn’t liked the vibe in the group since they’d arrived at the hotel, but that was probably just her. God, if she had to be here, she wished it were with Grant. She stared at her phone, willing him to text, but knowing it wouldn’t happen for another few hours. She’d marry him if she could. It was that simple. But these women didn’t get to weigh in on that.

Things are weird, she texted Viola.

Stop it. Try to have fun.

She nodded, as if Viola could see her. She put her phone away and drained her beer.

“You need another?”

She jumped, then relaxed when she saw it was just the bartender. He was middle-aged with a receding hairline that was charming on his angular face.