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"In a couple of weeks, I guess," I say, leaning back against the couch, and scooping my beer back up. Fuck it, after recounting all that, I don’t give a shit if I make another bad decision at this point.

Add it to the pile.

That trademark smirk of his makes its way back onto his face. “Be honest. Are you excited about this?”

And there he is. Colston’s not the type of dude to get hung up on all the negative what-ifs about this situation I’ve found myself in. Or any situation, really. If I’m happy, he’s happy.

Simple as that.

I let my own smile out, feeling the warmth of it spreading through my limbs and chasing off some of the exhaustion. “I’ve wanted this for so long, it almost doesn’t feel real. But fuck yes, I’m excited.”

Colston laughs and reaches over, shoving my shoulder. “This is some me-level fuckery, and I’m so here for it.” Then he gasps, pulling out his phone. “I get to be the one to tell Trace.”

I grab his phone out of his hand. “Fuck, no. No telling anybody until I find out for sure.”

Colston’s eyes gleam. “So I get to know and Trace doesn’t? You know what this means?”

I groan, but he ignores me.

“I’m best friend number one.”

Colston and my best friend from college, Trace, have this ongoing battle for what they deem my number one best friend. It’s stupid, which I remind them of all the time, but they’re relentless.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

He throws his hands up in triumph. “Take a picture.” He gestures with his chin toward his phone still in my hand. “I’m gonna send him this as a preview.”

I roll my eyes but snap the picture and toss his phone back when I’m done. After he taps the screen a few times, he locks it and slips it back into his pocket.

Then he focuses on me again.

“You’re still married to Satan.”

An unexpected laugh flies out of me. “What?”

He looks at me like I’m stupid. “You know, the devil? Lucifer? The Dark Lord? Or… Lordess?”

I give him an unamused look right back. “Yeah, I got that. What’s your point?”

“We need to get her out of your life. Like… vanquish her back to hell. Exorcise her, maybe?”

I roll my eyes and drain the rest of my beer. There’s the barest hint of a buzz in my veins now, and my head’s stopped pounding. “Or I could divorce her.”

He stares at me for a long beat. “If you want to take the boring route, sure.”

“I think boring’s probably the way to go on this.”

He shrugs and reaches for the remote, unmuting the game. It’s baseball, which I find boring as shit, but it’s better than silence. We both settle in to watch, but after about half an inning, my phone buzzes with a text.

Colston glances over as I pull my phone out of my pocket and check it. "Is that her? Don't respond. Let the Princess of Darkness rot on read."

But it’s not my soon-to-be ex-wife. It's a picture from Goldie—a massive, roaring bonfire in a backyard.

GOLDIE: taking out the trash, just like I said I would

I chuckle as I take in the insanity of the picture. I text back, then send another message asking if they've got a hose out there.

"Whoa," Colston says, leaning sideways to try and look at my screen. "Was that a laugh? Who is that?” He considers for a second and then lights up. “Is that the baby mama?"