Given the content of their first book, Rosemary hadn’t been able to get any other residents from the old folks’ home interested. Well, Bob Downey was up for it, but Rosemary had told him women only for this one. Ruth, however, put her hand up immediately, and Winona was, of course, also in. Then Molly and Marley had volunteered, and, with assurances that the night would be done by nine o’clock, Della had given herself up to the inevitable.

Plus, it was a little bit special. Hosting her first-ever event in her own house. Having friends over for an impromptu get-together without having to consider anyone else. Not that Arlo would have cared, but with Todd, that hadn’t been an option. Friends hadn’t been an option.

She could actually do what she liked, and that freedom was enough to make her giddy.

Everyone brought food to share and a bottle of wine, so between Winona’s highly entertaining stories about being an erotic romance author and the booze, Della couldn’t remember a time she’d laughed so loud and so long.

Which felt really, really good.

The conversation drifted back and forth between the book and other topics, one revolving around sexy underwear. It was no surprise that everyone sitting at the table—except Della—owned and frequently wore sexy underwear. Even Rosemary. Ordinarily, Della would have clammed up at this further proof of her freak-dom, but she was feeling more and more relaxed around these women.

Relaxed enough to ask why, when none of them were in current sexual partnerships, they wore lingerie. When there was no one else appreciating the effort. And given how much it could cost, wasn’t it just an…extravagant indulgence? Della’s controlling father hadn’t been able to abide extravagance, and sometimes his voice still played in her head.

It had been no wonder she’d leaped at the first guy who’d offered her a way out from under his suffocating rule.

“Not at all,” Winona assured. “I wear it almost every day.”

“Is that to put you in the right headspace for your writing?” Della asked.

“No. I mean, yeah…it can help, but I wear it whether I’m writing or not.”

Marley nodded. “It feels so good against your skin, and you walk around all day like you have this secret no one else knows.”

“Right,” Ruth agreed. “It makes you feel sexy just by putting it on.”