“That being not at all?”

Dude! It’s a plastic card with your name on it that gets you books when you want! Not the motherfucking card of life! This dude was eight seconds away from a serious “shhh.” I swear to God.

“Hey, kid! I know things, alright?” I said, glaring at him as we sat on my beloved couch, “I’m a woman of wisdom and intuition. So trust me when I tell you…”

I stopped as I heard the front door open. It meant Spencer was home and that uncontrollable grin I hated so much instantly plastered itself to my face. It was like trying to play Poker with your cards glued to your forehead. She saw everything.

“Ash?”

“We’re in here,” I called back, motioning for Aiden to scoot over in case she wanted to sit down.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked, furrowing his plucked brows.

“Shut your mouth, ok? Just shut your mouth.”

Spencer walked in, skin aglow, hair perfect, over-sized sweater all Julia Roberts movie-like. Yeah, she was pretty fucking incredible. And she was the woman I accidentally married. Could life get much sweeter?

“Hey, you two,” she said, leaning against the doorframe, “what’s going on?”

“Ashley needs a dress for tonight.”

“No, I don’t! I have one. Don’t listen to this guy. He’s fueled by library books.”

“What?” she asks, looking confusedly back-and-forth.

“Nothing. Look, my dress is fine.”

Aiden shook his head, but remained silent. Silence really is his best mode of conversation.

“So, Aiden,” Spencer said, walking over to sit in the chair across from us, “congratulations. Chelsea just told me.”

“Thanks! So I assume that means you two are speaking again, huh?”

“We made up, yeah.”

“Wait a second here, ladies,” I said, staring at Aiden, “I need to know why you’re being congratulated.”

“Oh, you know. The proposal,” Spencer replied.

Proposal? There was a proposal? What kind of proposal? A grant proposal?

“I proposed to Chelsea last night.”