Page 61 of Top Shelf

Nia lifts her glass on the screen. “To the studio, then. And to you.”

We raise our cups, then drink to the bare walls, to my name on the lease, to the strange thrill of a dream becoming a reality that now needs insurance and a security code. For a while, we wander around, talking about the space. Where the mirrors should go and what shade of white to paint the brick, then timeframes for opening.

Zoe mentions, carefully, that if Viktor’s NHL fame comes up, we can keep the focus on my expertise and treat his support as private. I nod along, grateful she knows how to spin it if needed.

Lulu waits until the takeout is open and we are sitting on the floor with our shoes kicked off before she looks at me over her champagne. “Have you slept with him yet?”

Carina closes her eyes. “Lulu.”

“What? I waited.”

“You waited twenty-eight minutes,” Nia laughs.

I lean back against the wall and take a drink. There’s no point pretending to be shocked. Lulu has never been delicate, and I prefer her that way. “Nope.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yep.”

The answer comes quickly, but these women know me too well to be surprised. Me thinking Viktor’s hot isn’t new information for them. I have eyes and a pulse, and these women have listened to me speculate about fucking Viktor Karlsson long before he put a ring on my finger.

“The issue has never been whether I wanna have sex with him.”

Carina frowns at me. “The highlighted clause in your contract would suggest you consider it an issue.”

“That clause exists because I’m not an idiot. I like sex,” I say. “I’ve never been shy about that.”

“Well,” Lulu says with a grin. “That’s the least shocking thing you’ve ever said.”

“Yeah,” I agree, because there’s no point pretending otherwise. “But normally I don’t fuck someone and then keep sharing a bed with them for the next several months while pretending to their family and the entire world that we’re madly in love.”

Nia’s eyebrows lift on the screen. “Fair.”

“And Viktor is…” I gesture vaguely. “Viktor.”

“Compelling argument,” Zoe says with a nod.

“You know what I mean. He’s hot. I’ve already imagined what he looks like naked.”

Carina looks down into her cup, smiling despite herself. “You’ve only been married for a couple weeks.”

“I’ve wanted to fuck him for longer than that.”

We all laugh, and Lulu suddenly gasps. “Are you gonna go back to that club to burn off some tension?”

Zoe glances between us. “The club?”

“You know the club.”

Nia places her face in her palm. “I was hoping to never revisit the club.”

“The sexy private members place,” Lulu tells Zoe, who still looks confused. “Heidi went with that woman from Boulder who had the cheekbones.”

“Amara,” I say.

“Amara,” Lulu repeats. “And then Heidi came back and told us about it over brunch while Carina died in her eggs.”

“That was an excellent brunch.” I smile despite myself, because it was. Amara was hot, the club had been beautiful, and the whole night had been filled with the best exploratory and explicit filth. “But no, I’m not going back right now.”