Maggie felt a tug on her arm. It was Carol Endercott from the office, who had been knocking back shooters since they had arrived an hour ago. Maggie didn’t know her well, but the woman’s husband had walked out on her and their kid after ten years of wedded bliss. Probably not the best person to invite to one’s bachelorette party; however, Carol had overheard Maggie and Sarah making plans and Maggie hadn’t had the heart not to include her.

“Magsters,” Carol slurred, leaning close, stumbling slightly. “Come on, girl, off za phone. It’s pardy time!” She wore a big, sloppy smile, her mascara was smeared, and wisps of frizzy blond hair clung to her perspiring face. “Let’s have fuuun!” she bellowed like an elephant in heat.

Maggie held up a finger. One moment, Carol, she mouthed. It’s Brett.

“Ooooh,” Carol said, throwing up her hands and tiptoeing backward, eyes wide, like a cartoon character removing herself from a bomb site. “The luuuvebirds. I bettah give you some privacy, seeing as how yer talkin’ to za fabulous Mr. Nolan!”

“Yes, well . . .” Maggie smiled at Carol. “Thanks. I think I’ll just . . .” She tipped her head toward the bathrooms and started moving past Carol.

“Good idea!” Carol said, giving Maggie a crazy-hard nudge in the ribs and an attempt at a wink. “I’ll tell the gang you’re in za potski having phone sex, so they won’t barge in at an inopportune moment,” she bleated, and lurched off.

“Jeez,” Maggie said, watching her leave. “I am very grateful not to have a drinking problem.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, Brett. Hang on a second,” Maggie said. She started weaving her way through the crowd.

Once she was in the restroom, she heaved a sigh of relief. It was cooler in there, almost peaceful. She could still hear the thump and roar of the music, but it was muffled. “Thank goodness,” she said. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Brett said, his voice mostly clear, just a little static.

“What time is it?”

“Uh . . . ten fifteen. Look, babe, I wanted to—”

“Ten fifteen! Oh my gosh, we’ve only been here an hour? I’m pooped already. How long do you think I need to stay? Don’t want to be rude or anything. Everyone’s come from so far away. But I gotta say, this going to clubs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, the meat-market behavior typical of these places? It’s not really me.” Maggie laughed. “Well, you know that better than anyone, don’t you? Honey, I am so glad we met.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

“I can hardly wait until this is over. Maybe I can drop by after, if it’s not too late, and snuggle in bed with you. Oh my goodness, my feet are sore,” Maggie said, slipping off her heels, the polished concrete floor cool and soothing under her feet.

“That might be a problem.”