When you put three best friends from college in a room together, you’re asking for trouble. And trouble was exactly what Robin Thompson, Mackenzie Fischer, and Lily Santoro had found.

The rain hadn’t stopped since last night, spreading a dreary gray haze across the morning sky. It was typical Western Pennsylvania spring weather, making sunshine and blue skies a rare event. Robin, Mackenzie, and Lily sat thigh to thigh in the living room where tiny smudged handprints “decorated” the antique white walls. Lily, who had no fondness for children, often sardonically compared them to the ones on the walls of the creepy abandoned house in the climax of The Blair Witch Project. That flick had freaked them all out when they’d gone to see it together back in 1999. It had cured them of the desire to ever go on a camping trip together.

Robin reached for her favorite teal mug, grabbing empty space instead. “Has anyone seen my coffee?”

It wasn’t her fault she was so forgetful. It came hand in hand with having young kids. Like forgetting the load of wet laundry still in the washing machine, now turning mildewy. Or the milk you accidentally placed in the cupboard and the cereal box you put in the fridge. Or the cup of lukewarm coffee you never got around to drinking after you misplaced it for the umpteenth time.

Lily laughed while Mackenzie empathized.

“It’s probably in your bathroom,” Mackenzie said. “That’s always where I find mine.”

Lily shook her head. “Allora, when you have kids, do they suck your brains out? You both are perpetually losing shit . . . mostly your minds.”

“It’s true. Kids do that to you. But they’re worth it.” Robin kissed the sleeping baby she held against her breast. Nestled in Robin’s arms was her youngest, Collette, an eight-month-old bundle of cuteness and colic. Robin couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed a full night’s sleep.

“Did you know that the average mother doesn’t sleep soundly for the first six years of her child’s life?” Robin pondered aloud.

“That means you haven’t slept in”—Mackenzie paused, mentally calculating the math—“eighteen years, Robin. And you still have six years to go. Girl, you’re overdue for a nap!”

“And that is why I’ll never have kids. Too much work and not enough sleep makes Lily a dull girl.” Lily stood up from the soft leather sofa stained with breast milk and an unknown sticky substance. She hoped it was just juice. A pile of Cheerios had collected where she had been sitting. As she shuffled past Robin, their knees bumped and Lily gripped the coffee table with one hand to steady herself. “Che schifo, Robin! Don’t you ever clean? Puah!” Lily squinted with disgust as she examined something gooey on her fingers.

“Is that Italian for you offering to do it?” Robin lobbed the question back at her.