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“Ibiza.”

I glanced at the world clock app on my phone. Ibiza was nine hours ahead of LA, which meant it was nighttime there.

“What’s going on with Cece? Is she okay? Are you?”

“I’m great.” I wasn’t even sure she was fully paying attention to me. “Best I’ve felt in forever. The men here are all so hot and so nice.” I got the impression she was looking at one of them as she said that.

I frowned. “I thought you were on a dick detox.”

“I was. Am. Oh…oops!” She giggled. “Here’s Cece!”

“Hi, Lo.” Cece started laughing at that as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “Get it? High. Low. They’re⁠—”

“Opposites.” I bit back a groan, realizing I probably wasn’t going to get any answers out of either of them. Not when they were both in this state. Even so, I had to try. “Yes. I get it. Cece, what is going on?”

“You tell me, oh wise friend,” she intoned. “You’re the one who called.”

“Are you high?” I asked.

“If you’re asking if I’m high on life, the answer is yes!” That was said with great enthusiasm.

Oh boy.

I must have said that aloud because she sighed then said, “Why do you and my husband have to be such party poopers?”

I nearly choked, but before I could say anything, Georgia chimed in. “Yeah, Logan. You need to have more fun. I thought Carson was going to help you relax this summer.”

Jesus. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Cece plus Georgia plus alcohol was a bad idea.

“Aren’t hockey boys the hottest?” Cece let out a dreamy sigh. “They have the best butts.”

I didn’t disagree, but that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

“So, it’s true? You married Gabe?”

“Yes, it’s true. And we’re going to have a huge celebration when we return. Everyone’s invited,” she said in a singsong voice. “You, Levi, the Hawks. Everyone.”

“Is he with you now?” I asked, still trying to make sense of everything.

“He flew out yesterday. Had a photo shoot or something.”

Or something?

“So much for a honeymoon,” I joked, wanting to see what she’d say.

My phone chimed, signaling an incoming call. Mom’s name flashed on the car display. I hadn’t talked to her in a while, and I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere with these two.

“Cece, I have to go. Let’s catch up soon.” Preferably when you’re sober.

“Sounds great! And hey, Lo?” she asked before I could switch to my mom’s call. “I hope you’re not upset.”

“Upset?” Concerned was more like it.

“If I’d had a real wedding,” Cece said, “you definitely would’ve been my maid of honor.”

I wondered what she meant by that comment. A real wedding. But she ended the call before I could press her on it.

I switched over to Mom, my mind still on my friends. I didn’t buy Georgia’s too-bright cheeriness. Nor the happy newlywed routine from Cece.