“What’s up?” I ask nervously.

“Um…there are two women here to see you.”

“About treatment?”

“Uh, no. They said they’re friends of Lance.”

April and I exchange a look.

“Oh. Ah, I guess I’ll be right out?” It’s more question than answer.

“They’re right here. They were quite insistent,” she whispers.

“Oh.” My stomach flips. If it’s a couple of Lance’s former conquests, I might throw up for real—hopefully directly on them.

“Do you want me to stay?” April asks.

“Please. Yes.”

Bernadette opens the door, and two women appear. Two gorgeous women. I try not to imagine them naked. Or Lance naked with them. One has short dark hair, almost black, cut in a bob. She’s tiny and lean, with stunning almond-shaped eyes. The other one is a little taller, with long, wavy auburn hair, huge boobs, and a narrow little waist. I can’t tell if they’re real or fake—her boobs.

They both smile and look from me to April and back again.

“You must be Poppy,” Boobs says to me. Then she turns to her friend. “Oh my God! She is so cute! Can you even imagine how adorable their little ginger babies would be?”

April cough-chokes.

“Ohh...” Boobs makes a face. “Is that politically correct? Can a non-ginger use the word ginger when referencing another ginger? Is that offensive?” She looks to me for some kind of response. “I mean, my hair is auburn, so I guess it’s kind of reddish, but I don’t know if it’s red enough to qualify me for the use of the word ginger.”

I’m so confused right now.

“Violet, tone down your crazy a notch,” says the other one. She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’d like to tell you she’s not always like this, but that would be a complete lie. I’m Lily, and this is Violet. We’re friends of Lance.”

The name Violet is familiar. I think Lance has mentioned her before.

“What kind of friends?”

This is an incredibly odd conversation to be having with women I automatically assume have had sex with Lance, because I don’t see him having a lot of female friends. This makes me want to rip their faces off—and that is a very non-me kind of reaction.

Boobs, or Violet, makes another face. It rivals one of April’s. “Not that kind of friend. I’m married.”

Violet holds out her left hand and nearly blinds me with the giant rock on her ring finger. Her nails are pretty and fancy. I can’t have long nails because of my job. They also can’t have polish on them. Hers are painted in Chicago’s colors.

She points to the girl beside her, Lily. “And this one is living with Balls.”

At my furrowed brow, Lily elaborates. “I’m Randy Ballistic’s girlfriend. We live together.”

“In his house,” Violet says. They both snicker.

“Am I supposed to understand what’s going on here?” I ask.

“Um, probably not. Sorry.” Lily looks apologetic.

“We’re here to stage an intervention,” Violet declares.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Me either.” April moves to stand beside me. She crosses her arms over her chest. She’s not very threatening, though. She’s too sweet looking, and gangly.

“To get you and Lance back together,” Lily explains. She looks at Violet. “Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. I think we just look like nutters right now.”

“It’s a fantastic idea,” Violet counters. “Lance is the reason Alex and I are married. Lance is part of the reason you and Nut Sac christen every bathroom in the greater Chicago area. It is our job to give Lance his happy ending.” Violet scrunches up her nose and makes a jerking-off motion. “But not that kind of happy ending. Well, maybe. Hopefully, actually.”

“Violet,” Lily hisses. “Sorry. We’re not crazy. Well, she is, but I’m not. Look, Lance is really sad, and we know it’s because he’s missing you. Randy says he moped around the entire time they were on the road, and he’s been moping around since he got back to Chicago last night. So we want to sort of help smooth things over.”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but I need time to figure this out on my own.” This is so weird.

April coughs a word that sound a lot like liar.

“I don’t think we’re doing a very good job here, Lily. I knew we should’ve brought Sunny.”

“Sunny?” April asks.

“Sunshine, my sister-in-law. My stepbrother, Miller, knocked her up, so now she’s like my stepsister-in-law and my sister-in-law. It’s all very incesty soap opera. Except there’s no actual incest,” Violet explains.

“Is Sunshine a yoga instructor?” April asks.

“You know her?” Violet’s eyes light up.

“We took her class until she went on maternity leave. We miss her so much, don’t we, Poppy?” April nudges me.

“We do.” This is the most bizarre conversation ever. Talk about six degrees of separation.

“I’ll tell her that when I see her later. She’ll probably cry. She cries over almost everything right now. Yesterday Logan made spit bubbles, and she cried over the cuteness,” Violet says.

I’ve stopped speaking, because my brain can’t fit all these puzzle pieces together.