Chapter Seventeen Girlfriends
HADLEY
A few days after my conversation with Lainey, I head over to Rylee’s house, having been invited to hang out with the girls.
This is one of the reasons I wanted to come to Denver, after all.
I want to get closer to these girls, and since it’ll just be us, it should be less overwhelming than the bar was.
When I arrive at the house, I’m struck by how cozy and warm the place is with its light wood accents. It’s lived-in with baby things scattered around, blankets draped over the couch, and toys tucked into corners.
I stand in the entryway for a second, smoothing my mint green shirt and taking a deep breath of the air that smells like vanilla and laundry detergent.
On one hand, a smug little spark of pride flickers in my chest. Look at me, I think.
I’m not at some sticky-floored frat party like my peers or cramming in a library cubicle like I usually am.
I’m about to hang with older friends who own homes and have actual human beings dependent on them.
I feel sophisticated, like I’ve bypassed the messy trial-run of my twenties and jumped straight into the "grown-up" version of life.
Then, I see a stray pacifier on the coffee table, and the intimidation hits me like a physical weight.
These people have mortgages and diaper bags.
I still have to call my dad to ask how to get the oil changed in my car.
My heart does a nervous little skip against my ribs.
I feel like a kid playing dress-up in her mother’s heels, terrified that if I say the wrong thing or hold the baby the wrong way, they’ll see right through the act.
“Hi!” Rylee calls out once I’ve stepped through the front door.
She comes breezing out of the living room, looking effortlessly chic in an oversized, cream-colored cable-knit sweater and leggings, her blonde hair thrown up into a messy topknot.
She has Ciara bundled against her shoulder, holding her securely with both hands.
“Hi,” I say, slipping off my shoes. Oddly, I don’t hear Millie’s little footsteps pounding to meet me.
“Come here,” Rylee greets, her green eyes crinkling with genuine warmth as she opens her free arm.
I laugh, stepping forward and letting her pull me into a quick, one-armed hug that smells faintly of lavender and baby lotion. She gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to lead me into the living room where the rest of the women are already gathered.
Stacey, Sutton, and Skyler are all cozied up on the couch, and Grace is sitting in a matching recliner, her feet tucked up under her.
Rylee glides over to a plush, oversized rocking chair in the corner and sits down with Ciara.
The baby is fast asleep, a tuft of dark peach-fuzz hair sticking up as she rests against Rylee’s chest.
“Hi!” Skyler exclaims.
“Hey, Hads!” Stacey grins.
“You’re here!” Sutton declares with excitement.
Stacey’s son, Henry, toddles past us, and I watch him with a small smile.
“He’s crawling now?” I ask.
“Yeah, soon he’ll be walking, running, and terrorizing Millie,” Stacey chuckles, shaking her head.
“Where is Millie?” I ask, looking around for the little girl.
“Oh, she’s at a skating lesson,” Stacey explains. “Owen’s picking her up when he’s done at practice.”
“Anyway, back to what I was saying before Hadley got here,” Grace says, pointing between Stacey and Skyler. “When are you guys going to stop dragging your feet? You’ve both been engaged forever now and still have no plans.”
“Owen and I have a set plan,” Stacey insists, defending her corner of the couch. She gestures broadly with her hands, nearly spilling a few drops of her Pinot Noir from her glass as she speaks.
Across from her, Rylee doesn't even look up from where she’s carefully twirling a strand of Ciara’s peach-fuzz hair around her finger. “No, you have ideas.”
“Same difference,” Stacey says, cutting a quick, conspiratorial glance over to Skyler, who is sitting next to her and nodding along in silent support. Stacey takes a deliberate sip of her wine, trying to look unbothered.
“Not even close,” Sutton snorts. She’s tucked deep into the corner of the sectional, one leg curled beneath her as she reaches for the charcuterie board on the coffee table. She deftly navigates past a scattered pile of baby blocks to grab a grape.
Skyler smiles awkwardly, sliding her phone out of her pocket to sneak a quick peek at the screen before sliding it right back into her lap, but she doesn’t say anything, which as far as I know, is very unlike her.
I laugh, watching them go back and forth like a tennis match.
“I just want to wait until the end of the hockey season,” Stacey explains. “Owen won’t be so busy, and it’ll give me time to lose the baby weight.”
“Oh, stop, you look incredible,” Sutton says, waving a hand dismissively as she looks up from her grapes, her sharp eyes full of affectionate exasperation.
Stacey lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, her hazel eyes softening as she glances down at Henry, who is now happily banging a plastic cup against the floor.
“Thanks, but adjusting to being a mom of two after he was born mid-last season was hard enough.
Survival mode was real for a while there.
That's why Owen and I finally just looked at each other and agreed to push everything off until this upcoming summer. I need a breather before we start planning a wedding.”
Grace turns to Skyler. “And what about you?”
“What about me?” Skyler keeps her gaze down, as if refusing to meet Grace’s eyes.
“You and my brother going to actually tie the knot or avoid the subject forever?” Grace’s question is blunt, delivered with the exact kind of no-nonsense edge you only use with a sibling…or the best friend who is marrying him.
Skyler rolls her eyes. “You know Carson and I are highly efficient procrastinators, thank you very much. We’re going to do it… eventually. Sometime before the next millennium, swear.”
“‘Eventually’ doesn’t clear out the thirty different venue emails I forwarded you that are currently rotting in your inbox,” Grace shoots back, leaning forward, her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t spend three hours vetting rustic-chic mountain pavilions just for you to ghost me.”
“I deeply appreciate your unpaid labor as our unofficial wedding planner,” Skyler retorts smoothly, raising her wine glass in a sarcastic little toast. “But until your brother learns to answer a text about floral arrangements in under forty-eight hours, those emails are staying in digital purgatory.”
Rylee chuckles and shakes her head. “Vegas is sounding better by the day, huh?”
“Oh my God, do it!” I exclaim, excited at the thought of a Vegas elopement. It sounds weirdly romantic.
Skyler purses her lips, looking thoughtful. “Honestly…I don’t hate the thought.”
Rylee points at me. “Hadley’s on board with the rest of us.”
The conversation shifts from weddings to babies, and Rylee announces, “I’m thinking about going back to work. Part-time to start, maybe. Then ramp back up to full-time.”
Stacey blinks, pausing mid-sip. “Wait, did you finally lock down the child care situation? Last I heard, you were still playing phone tag.”
“I actually just talked to her yesterday,” Rylee says, a relieved smile breaking across her face. “Your sitter’s referral came through. She connected me with a girl named Mia, and she’s amazing. We’re doing a trial run next week.”
“Oh, thank God,” Stacey says, letting out a breath and leaning back. “I told you my girl wouldn't steer you wrong. Having someone you actually trust makes the transition back to work a million times easier.”
“I love being a mom,” Rylee adds, glancing down at Ciara with an expression of pure love. “I just don’t want to give up my career.”
“You don’t have to,” Skyler insists. “You can do both. You’ve got a village behind you, mama!”
Rylee gives her a grateful smile, then turns to me.
“How are you doing, Hadley?” she asks. “How’s school going? Are things better now that you’re here?”
“Not really,” I admit. The room seems to shift, the ambient noise of the house fading as the attention turns toward me.
I feel exposed, suddenly very conscious of how young and unmoored I sound.
“I’m still miserable, but being back here really does help.
It’s just that I don’t like my major at all.
The location really doesn’t change that.
I hate it, and it feels like I’m just waking up every day to read about a world I don’t want to live in.
At least now I’m able to enjoy my life outside of school, so that’s a definite improvement. ”
I look down at my hands, gripping my sparkling water so tightly my knuckles turn white. The anger burns hot in my throat, mixed with a deep, exhausting sense of powerlessness.
“I want to be independent. I want to feel like an actual adult who can make her own choices, but how am I supposed to do that when I can’t even get him to listen to me? If I change my major, or if I drop out, he might never speak to me again. I can’t…I can’t stand the thought of disappointing him.”
I stop, my throat tight, suddenly feeling very small in a room full of women who have built their own lives.
“That sucks,” Grace mutters.
“It does,” I agree.
“Millie’s rink is hiring,” Stacey says.
I blink. “What?”
“It’s just part-time,” she continues. “But it could be something to help you get a little more independence.”
I stare at her for a long moment, feeling like she’s just spoken some incredible revelation. “My dad has never let me work. He always says it takes focus away from my studies.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t,” Skyler says. “Last time I checked, your dad doesn’t legally own your brain. If you want to rebel, Hadley, stop asking for his permission to do it.”
I hesitate another moment as I turn the idea over and over in my head.
Grace appears thoughtful for a moment. “It could show your Dad that you can be independent. That you can do both work and succeed in school.”
“Exactly,” Stacey nods.
“Or,” I add, the heavy reality of my father’s possible reaction fully setting in, “it could make him really mad. Like, nuclear option mad. If I push him too far, he could end up cutting off the rent and forcing me to move in with Grandpa… or worse, move back in with him.”
Skyler grins. “Well, Carson still has his old apartment. He actually had to renew the lease because so many people have stayed there. He decided not to give it up, just in case.”
“The Night Hawks stopover,” Grace chuckles. “You could totally move in there, and it’d be one less thing your Dad can hold over you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. I’m definitely tempted by the idea, and I’m so grateful all these women are so willing to try and help. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“Are we wrong?” Grace presses.
“No,” I admit. “But still…”
I trail off, my gaze drifting back to where Henry is contentedly banging his plastic cup against the rug. I think about it for a few moments, letting the silence stretch as I weigh the possibility of defying my father against the slow suffocation of staying exactly where I am.
Moving out entirely right now? Taking on rent and a full-time job while trying to navigate this mess? It feels too drastic. It would trigger the exact nuclear option I’m trying to avoid. I’m not ready for that fight yet.
But maybe I don’t have to jump off the cliff all at once. It’s about baby steps.
“You know what, Grace is right. If I can just show him I’m responsible,” I continue, “that I can handle both work and school…maybe he’ll listen.”
“Maybe,” Skyler agrees.
“It’s worth a shot,” Stacey nods.
I know it’s never that simple with my dad, but for once, I feel like there’s a small chance for an exit from the path he’s laid out for me, and if I can reach it, I might finally get to make my own way.