Chapter 1
SAVANNAH
“Get off your knees and stop showing off,” I holler.
I wobble, then go down ass first. Flopping back on the cold ice, I sigh up at the grey sky. Eyes closed, I force my muscles to relax and give up completely.
“Just tap my shoulder when you’re done,” I tell Addie. “Hopefully, I won’t have frozen over by then. If I have, it’s been fun.”
The sound of skates slicing across ice gets louder, and when I force my eyes open, I find my friend looming over me, blocking out the gloomy sky. “Stop being so dramatic.”
The gorgeous brunette smirks down at me, batting her honey brown eyes.
“I didn’t complain when you made us do that pole dancing class last week.”
I huff out a breath. On top of being annoyingly pretty, Adeline Langfield is good at everything. During her first attempt, she contorted herself until she was upside down on the pole, legs spread like a literal pinup girl.
Gliding backwards with the grace of a professional skater, she waggles her fingers. Then she dips down and launches herself into the air, her body spinning in a way even Olympians would envy. Bitch.
With a laugh, Josie does the same. While she doesn’t nail the spin the way Addie did, she does a little twirl that my ass would never even attempt.
The final girl to complete our quartet, Sutton, skates up to me with an ease I don’t have. “Need help?” She holds out a hand to me.
Rather than accepting the help, I clutch her wrist and pull her down with me.
Giggling, my blond friend lands on top of me, then wiggles to the ice beside mine.
I sit, shaking off the cold sensation creeping up my spine, and watch Josie mimic every one of Addie’s movements.
The two aren’t anywhere near the same caliber, yet Josie is a hell of a lot better than Sutton and I are.
Makes sense, considering Josie’s dad is Tyler Warren, one of the best wingers the Boston Bolts has ever seen.
And because the rink we’re on is located in the backyard of her childhood home.
She grew up skating so following Addie is no hard feat.
Okay, maybe it is, since Adeline Langfield is as good on a pair of skates as Tyler Warren himself. At twenty-six she is one of the PWHL’s best female goalies. Though she’s giving up that career at the end of this season to join the Boston Bolts as their first ever female goalie coach.
Josie’s no slouch, but even she seems to be regretting her suggestion that we have our girls’ night at her parents’ place. “I think our moms were spot on when it came to girl time. Brunch and mimosas would be so much more relaxing.”
Addie grins. “My mom and her best friends had book club nights. And wine. I assure you, our plans are better.”
Sutton spreads her legs and extends an arm, stretching to one side, then the other. “Mine had brewery nights. And jumping off the pier after a few too many drinks.”
Pretty sure I’d dampen the mood if I mentioned how my mom didn’t have any friends because she was a narcissist, so instead I say, “All of them included alcohol. We’re definitely missing out.”
Addie rolls her eyes. “Fine. How does spiked hot chocolate by the fire sound?”
My smile is automatic. “Delicious.”
Twenty minutes later we’re curled up on the oversized couches in the Warren home.
Josie’s parents and her younger brother, are at a hockey tournament so we have the house to ourselves for the evening.
It’s one of those perfect winter homes, set deep in the woods in the suburbs of Boston, with its own little pond and huge windows that look out over the sprawling property.
Tonight, every inch is covered in snow, making it a white winter’s dream.
Inside a fire burns in the oversized stone hearth, creating a cozy glow that warms my still stiff toes. While Josie and Addie move around the kitchen, getting snacks and drinks together, I shove my toes between the couch cushions and take in the beautiful view.
I can’t imagine being comfortable in a house of this size, but I’m the only one here even slightly fazed by all the signs of wealth surrounding us. While Josie’s life was hard before being adopted by Tyler Warren and his wife Ava, this has been her home since she was eight.
Addie’s family money puts the Warrens’ to shame. The Langfields are Boston royalty, owning both the city’s hockey and baseball teams, as well as a tremendous amount of property.
I’m actually interviewing her Aunt tomorrow. She’s just taken over as creative director of the magazine I work for, Jolie. The owner, Catherine Bouvier, has been trying for over a decade to get her to come on board, and she’s finally done it.
Sutton’s family is wealthy as well. Despite hailing from a tiny island off the coast of Maine, Sutton’s mom is the Elizabeth Sweet.
America’s sweetheart turned four time Tony Award winning actress and now director.
Sutton followed in her mother’s footsteps and is starring in her first lead on Broadway this spring.
And then there’s me, the girl from Las Vegas, whose only family consists of a narcissistic mother and the Italians that live on the second floor of my three story walk up in Southie.
How the hell did I end up in the room with these three impressive women?
I have my job to thank for that. Josie and I met when we were hired by Jolie at about the same time.
When she discovered that I was all alone in Boston, she invited me over for dinner with her family.
I tried to object but according to her, the Warrens are known for collecting strays, and if I didn’t think I had a place to go, I’d always have a place with them.
True to her word, she’s included me in holidays, family game nights, and girls nights like this for the last four years.
Josie’s and Addie’s families are close, so they’ve known one another most of their lives.
Josie is two years older than us, but because she spent a good part of her childhood fighting a serious illness, she was a few years behind in school and went to college with Addie.
Then there’s Sutton, who’s also been close with Addie since they were little girls.
While getting close to people with that type of history would normally scare me—as any type of commitment does—as Josie promised, they brought this stray in and haven’t really let me go since.
“How are things going with—“ I snap my fingers, racking my brain for the name of Sutton’s latest boy wonder. When it doesn’t come to me, I shake my head. “Hot bartender with the lip ring.”
Sutton snorts. My ability to remember the name of just about any man is nearly nonexistent, and they all know it.
They serve their purpose, sure, but considering that no man has ever not disappointed me, I don’t go out of my way to befriend them.
Especially not the ones Sutton dates since there always seems to be someone new.
Despite the revolving door, Sutton isn’t a player.
Not in the slightest. That’d be me. Sutton Jones is a serial monogamist who believes every man she meets will be the love of her life.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, but with the way she waxes poetic about every one of them, it sometimes feels like it. She’s in love with the idea of falling in love, not with the men themselves.
“Oh, you didn’t hear.” Addie shuffles into the room with two mugs in each hand.
Her caramel balayage looks darker, her hair still damp from outside.
Her cheeks are rosy, and her deceptively innocent big brown eyes dance with the promise of secrets.
“He ghosted her after she asked him to spend the holidays with her.”
“You what now?” I carefully take two of the drinks from Addie as Sutton takes a third.
“Obviously, he wasn’t the one for me.” Sutton takes a sip and sighs. Despite her annoying desire to in love, I adore the way she doesn’t let these setbacks dampen her sparkle. She says that every Mr. Wrong brings her one step closer to Mr. Right.
“Or—”Josie says as she sets a platter of brownies on the table, “and don’t take my word for it because what the hell do I know about relationships, but maybe, asking a man you’ve been out with twice to spend the holidays with your family is a step too far?”
I point at her, lips pressed together. “That one’s onto something.”
Sutton huffs. “Whatever. Can we talk about something else?”
“Ah yes.” Josie zeroes in on me. “Lets talk about the interview you have scheduled this week.”
I survey Addie. “Only if you’re comfortable.”
She shrugs. “My aunt is one of my favorite people. Couldn’t tell you if any of the tabloid gossip over the years is true, though. To me she’s always been the only woman other than my mother who can put my father in his place. It’s fun to watch.”
I snort. “My kind of woman.”
“And her closet is incredible,” she adds. “She invited us to come over before Camden’s party and pick out anything we want.”
Eyeing my ample chest, I shake my head. “I don’t think these things will fit into anything your aunt owns.” I’m curvy, with wide hips and thighs. And these double d’s have a life of their own half the time.
I also have an addiction to chocolate and cake. Any kind of desert, really. So my stomach is soft. I’m essentially the complete opposite of dainty Sienna Harrison, with her petite features and b cup.
“Yeah, I’m not fitting these boobs into any of your aunt's dresses either,” Sutton says, chin tucked and eyeing her own rack. While her breasts aren’t as large as mine, she’s waif thin so they look enormous on her body.
Addie waves a hand. “She could alter just about anything in her sleep. Plus, she’s now got the contents of the Jolie closet at her finger tips. There are a ton of options in every size.”
My heart stutters. Jolie’s closet is what legends are made of. My figure is more in line with Catherine Bouvier, the head of the magazine, and the fashion icon of our generation. If I find anything she’s worn in that closet, I will cry.
Literal tears.
“See, now you’re excited,” Addie says, chin lifted and smug smile in place. “So outside of the piece you’re doing about my aunt, what else is going on with work?”
Josie’s eyes cut to mine. She knows as well as I do that I need to knock it out of the park with this article since the other column I work on hasn’t been getting the numbers we need.
Still, I’m not a quitter. I can turn it around, I just need a fresh idea to get readers interested again.
Hoping my friends can help me brainstorm, I dive right in.
“Honestly, I need a really good hook for the next edition of Calliope’s column.
All I talk about is sex and orgasms. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex and orgasms—”
“Who doesn’t,” Josie crows.
Addie rolls her eyes and Sutton falls back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. She thinks love is required for sex, but since she falls in love just about weekly, I don’t think she’s missing out too much.
I huff. “It feels like all I do is mimic the original Calliope.” I shrug.
Honestly, I don’t even know who that was.
Jolie purchased the column years ago, when the original Calliope was ready to retire .
Since then women at the magazine have taken turns acting as the dating and sex guru.
I’ve been the author for almost a year, and it already feels tired.
“I want to do something smart and edgy and…” I groan and slump back.
“I don’t know. More helpful than just telling women the best position for a g-spot O. ”
“I thought that was super helpful.” Addie arches a brow. “I mean who knew that it was impossible to reach in missionary?”
“When was the last time you even had sex?” Josie asks, eyes narrowed on our friend.
Addie’s jaw practically unhinges. “I have sex!”
Another huff escapes me, this one full of skepticism. “When?”
“I have sex.” As the words leave her mouth, her eyes dart to one side. “I’m just going through a bit of a dry spell.”
“Well you better un-dry that spell because you’re about to be working with a bunch of really hot men,” Sutton says. “If you think you’re horny now, just imagine how horny you’ll be having to spend all that time with JJ.”
If possible, Addie’s jaw drops farther. “Take it back!”
Sutton grins, eyes dancing. “Why? We all know it’s true. You as his coach? There’s gonna be all kinds of delicious gossip flying. Bet you could write a year’s worth of Calliope columns using Addie’s life experience alone. The first headline, how not to fuck your enemy.”
“JJ is not my enemy.” Addie lifts her chin, keeping her expression even in a pathetic effort to look nonchalant.
“Oh no, just your archnemesis,” Josie teases.
Addie huffs. "He’s a player. And a dad. And married.”
“Ugh, I hate his wife.” Josie scowls.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s still married, and I’m not interested.” Addie scrutinizes me. “So you’ll have to come up with something else ridiculous to write about.”
I sink against the couch, nerves swirling in my stomach. Yes I will. The question is, what?