A Million Little Things: An uplifting read about friends, family and second chances for summer 2018 from the #1 New York Times bestselling author. Susan Mallery

around seven. By seven-thirty, nearly everyone had left. Pam carried serving dishes into the kitchen and set them on the counter.

      “That was a lot of fun,” she said cheerfully. “Thanks for inviting me.”

      “My pleasure.” Zoe looked at the last of her guests, still talking in her backyard. “I should do this more often. I had such a good time.”

      Pam leaned against the counter. “Did you talk to Jen at all?”

      “A little. Why?”

      “I don’t know. I worry about her. She’s so caught up with Jack. It’s one thing to be a good mother, but another to stop having a life outside of your child.”

      Zoe didn’t want to step on any toes, but Pam had started the conversation. “She’s different,” she admitted. “Since having Jack. I love her and would do anything for her, but I sometimes wonder how interested she is in our friendship.”

      “That makes me sad.” Pam pressed her lips together. “If she was happy spending every second with her baby, I would be fine with it. But she’s so stressed, all the time. I just...” She looked at Zoe. “Maybe we should talk to her. The two of us. Tell her that we’re worried.”

      Zoe took a step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Jen isn’t going to take it well. She’s going to assume we’re ganging up on her.”

      “Not if we start by telling her we love her. She needs to hear the truth from people who care about her. I’ll text you some dates and times. We’ll figure out when we’re both available and Jen is home. While Jack is napping would probably be best. I don’t want her distracted.”

      Pam hugged her, then waved as she left the kitchen. “I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

      Zoe held in a groan. She had a bad feeling about confronting Jen. Interventions went well when they were in a movie or on TV but she doubted real life was that tidy. She was running low on friends—she didn’t want to lose one of the few she had left. But she also didn’t want to offend Pam.

      “You’re looking serious about something,” Steven said as he came into the kitchen and set a pitcher of iced tea on the counter. “Everything okay?”

      “Just deep thoughts.” No way she was going to drag him into this, she thought. Getting caught between his sister and his mother was the definition of a rock and a hard place.

      “That’s the last of the drinks from outside,” he told her. “What else can I do to help?”

      “You’ve done enough.”

      Not only had he been attentive to her friends, he’d kept serving bowls filled and drinks topped up.

      She smiled. “You’re an excellent kind of guest to have.”

      “My mom taught me to be handy.” He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “Mason survive Mariposa?”

      “He actually likes her. He always has, which is good. I would hate for my dad’s dog to see my cat as a living chew toy.”

      “I’m pretty sure Mason could take care of himself. He’s a smart guy.” He picked up a half-full bottle of chardonnay. “One more glass?”

      “Sure.”

      She pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and he poured, then they both went into the living room and sat on her sofa. There was a single lamp on in the corner, but otherwise the room was dim. Zoe briefly thought about turning on more lights, but decided against it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in the semidark with a handsome, charming man. Chad didn’t count because he’d turned out to be a total mistake. Which meant it had been years and years. She was due for some handsome-man-in-the-dark time.

      “Your dad’s nice,” Steven said.

      His tone was completely neutral, but she had a feeling he wasn’t as calm as he acted. She decided to test the waters.

      “He spent a lot of time with your mom today.”

      “I noticed. I hope she didn’t...” He set his glass on the coffee table. “I tried to talk to her about him.”

      Zoe felt her eyes widen. “Wow. How did that go?”

      “Not well. She told me—” He cleared his throat. “That doesn’t matter. I hope he doesn’t hurt her.”

      “Wouldn’t they have to get involved for that to happen?” she asked gently. “Steven, you’re sweet to worry, but there are a million steps between tonight and that. Yes, my dad was a bit of a player when he was younger. But less so now. And he’s not a bad guy. When my parents got divorced, it was the most civil, friendly marriage dissolution ever. He and my mom stayed friends. The three of us were together when she died and he was as sad as I was.”