Christ. What was this? What kind of dinner party had Martha been invited to? Sure, Sheryl had been upfront with her about Micky’s no-strings-attached dalliance with Robin, but that was another thing entirely compared to Robin turning up out of the blue, at the very dinner party that was supposed to get her a foot in the door with Micky.

Moreover, Martha liked Micky. She’d liked her when they’d first met and the prospect of this dinner had excited her from the second she’d received the invitation. Deflated, she reached for her glass of wine, then caught Amber sneaking a glance at her—and not for the first time tonight. It was only adding to the peculiar vibe of the evening.

“Sorry for the interruption.” Micky walked back into the living room and headed straight to the kitchen. All four of them watched her as she rummaged around, not knowing how to behave or where to look. Whatever Robin had said to her in the hallway had clearly rattled Micky.

“Coffee, anyone?” Micky asked.

“Why don’t you come and sit with us for a bit and have something stronger,” Sheryl said. “You look like you need it.”

Martha could surely use something stronger as well.

“I know where she keeps the good stuff.” Amber got up and headed for the drinks cabinet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked Micky. “Or am I being too nosy?”

Micky sat down. She had arranged the table so she was sitting across from Martha. Martha looked at her but Micky couldn’t meet her gaze. She was starting to feel sorry for her now. Martha guessed it was a pretty awkward position to be in.

She said the only thing she could say while keeping everyone’s dignity intact. “Don’t worry about me, Micky. Sheryl told me about Robin. She wouldn’t have been a very good friend if she hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was over,” Micky said.

Martha swore she could detect a glimmer of glee in Micky’s voice.

“This is good news,” Kristin said.

“It is. It’s just a bit unexpected, and well, the timing is a bit off, I guess,” Micky said.

Martha chose to interpret Micky’s grin as apologetic, although it actually looked like the grin of someone stupidly in love.

“I’ll go see her tomorrow,” Micky said.

Amber poured them all generous measures of brandy.

“I guess we’ll just be friends then.” Martha held up her glass, even though she didn’t have much to toast to.

Micky was finally able to hold Martha’s gaze for longer than a split second. “I would really like that.”

“Hear, hear.” Sheryl held out her glass as well and Amber and Kristin soon followed.

Martha leaned back in her chair and sipped from the brandy. It stung in the back of her throat and seemed to have an instantly calming effect. At least she was here, surrounded by these women. At least there had been a prospect. It beat spending a Saturday night home alone wishing for one. Martha took another sip and, when she looked up, caught the last of Amber’s glance aimed at her again just before she averted it.

Would it be terribly unsavory to flirt a little with Micky’s best friend? Not more so than Micky’s ex-lover showing up out of the blue and thwarting Martha’s chances in one fell swoop.

“I guess I’ll have to come to one of your yoga classes then.” She tilted her head and held Amber’s gaze. “Give it another go.”

Amber didn’t speak for long seconds. “If you like,” she said drily, her voice almost devoid of emotion. As if Martha had just said the most outrageous thing and they hadn’t just talked about yoga earlier. As if Martha shouldn’t even be there. If she was so opposed to the idea, why had she asked and, more importantly, what was with all the covert glances in Martha’s direction throughout the evening? The more this dinner party progressed, the less Martha could make sense of it.

“Amber doesn’t mean it that way,” Micky said, catching the vibe and quite possibly feeling guilty for having to give Martha the brush-off. “She doesn’t do well with brandy.”

Martha witnessed how a look passed between Micky and Amber. As if Micky was spurring her friend on to make an effort. But Martha didn’t want to be the person over which an effort had to be made, let alone an effort that had to be prompted.

She cast Amber one last glance and, this time, perhaps for the first time that evening, Amber kept looking back at her. Her green eyes locked themselves on Martha’s and Martha wasn’t quite sure what she saw in them, but it sure as hell wasn’t any form of dismissal. It was quite the opposite. Oh. That she could work with. Because those green eyes were mesmerizing when they stared into hers like that and, after all the events of the night, Martha was quite keen to lose herself in them for a while longer.

“You can get a couple of free trial lessons at our studio,” Amber said, her eyes still on Martha. Her tone might not have been much different than before, but looking into her eyes while she said the words made all the difference to Martha. “My schedule is online if you’d like to take one of my classes. I’m going on a month-long retreat to India soon, so you may have to wait until I’m back.”

“Amber wants to start her own studio,” Sheryl said. She must have been completely unaware of the sudden chemistry that had flared between Martha and Amber, because it killed the moment, forcing Amber to look away. Martha had been friends with Sheryl long enough to know that the later it got, the less aware Sheryl became of things going on around her.

“It’s just a dream at this point,” Amber said. “But it would be nice. Yoga is the new coffee, basically.” She smiled at Kristin.

“There’s money to be made, for sure,” Kristin said. “And absolutely nothing beats being your own boss.” She glanced at Sheryl. “Well, except maybe a cushy professorship at Sydney University.”

“There’s nothing cushy about that at all, I can assure you,” Sheryl said. “At least not in my department. Maybe it’s different in the hard sciences.” Sheryl’s words were slurring a little, but Martha agreed with every word she said.

“I was just joking, babe.” Kristin, always a good sport, put a hand on Sheryl’s shoulder. “I keep telling her we should open a second Pink Bean branch, then Sheryl could leave her job and put the hardships that come with being in academia behind her.”

“What?” That was the first thing Martha had heard about that.

“She’s just yanking my chain. I will never leave academia,” Sheryl said. “I will be writing research grant proposals and devising new theories on gender until my dying breath. It’s my life. I love coffee just as much as the next person, but it’s not what I live for.” She gave a crooked smile.

“I do get sick of physics from time to time. Or no, actually, it’s not the physics that bother me, come to think of it. The laws of nature are an endlessly fascinating topic. It’s all the bullshit that comes with it. All the meetings and the fact that there’s never enough money to go around to fund the exact research projects we want to do. And I like coffee as well. I’m particularly fond of flat whites, so if you need a partner, Kristin, I’m game.” Gosh. Martha figured the brandy was quickly catching up with her. “On that note,” she added. “I should probably be going home.”