Rachel set down her bag of groceries on one of the makeshift plywood and sawhorse counters in what would eventually be the kitchen of Mia’s new house. She’d gutted the original monstrosity, taking it down to the studs.
“Okay, I know we were all technically here for your reception, but I didn’t actually get to see the house. Will you give a quick tour?”
Mia brightened. “Love to.”
Cayla lifted a bottle. “But let’s open the wine first.” She pulled the cork and poured them each half a Solo cup of pinot noir.
Rachel lifted the cup to sip. “I’m having flashbacks to college. Although this is a much better vintage than anything I had back then.”
“It is a mark of adulthood that we’ve graduated from crappy wine coolers.” Cayla lifted her cup for a toast.
Leaving the provisions for their girls’
