“I’m ready,” Amber declared, the words sounding too rehearsed as they exited her mouth. “Give me Martha’s number, Micky. I know you have this dinner set up for tomorrow, and she’ll be there, but I want to call her first. I’m going to ask her out.”

“Well, I never.” Micky clasped her hands to her mouth.

Amber should have known her friend would make a spectacle out of this.

“Amber Gilroy is going on the prowl.” Micky fixed her stare on Amber. “This is good,” she said, “really good.”

“No need to make a big fuss.” Amber returned Micky’s stare. She looked great. Different. Like a new coat of confidence had been applied to all her features.

“I’m just glad those two months in I-forget-the-name had this effect. Must have been all that sitting around silently in the lotus position, meditating about your life.”

“It’s called Kerala.” Even after years of taking Amber’s classes, Micky couldn’t remember the proper Indian name of the most simple yoga poses, let alone the name of an Indian town with more than two syllables.

“Anyway, you’ve had her number in your phone for months. I put it in there once when you weren’t looking,” Micky said. “Because I always believed this day would come. I knew you would come around eventually.” Micky gave her a meaningful look. They both knew that Amber’s initial reluctance to act on that massive spark of chemistry between her and Martha had more to do with Amber’s unsuccessful romantic past than with the principle of not wanting to date someone who had first shown interest in Micky.

Amber shook her head. “I can’t trust you with anything. I can’t even trust you with my purse for five minutes.” She had to suppress a smile nonetheless.

“I, on the other hand, have entrusted you with the lives of my children, so I figure there’s enough trust between us for the both of us.” These days, Micky sometimes said things that made Amber do a double-take. Things that mere weeks ago would never have come from her best friend’s mouth. Amber had to admit that this new version of Micky was part of what spurred her on to, finally, ask Martha out.

Micky was thriving since she and Robin had gotten together. Coming face-to-face with the evidence of new love every single time Amber as much as spoke on the phone with her best friend made her painfully aware of what she’d been missing out on.

Amber stifled a yawn while she reached for her phone. She had only arrived at Sydney Airport the day before and, despite rigidly following all the tips she could find on beating it, her brain was still woozy with jet lag, her limbs heavy with an unfamiliar fatigue. She scrolled to the letter W in her Contacts and, sure enough, found Martha Waltz’s name in bold black letters.

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed.

“In my defense, Olivia, your goddaughter who adores the pants off you, was in on it.”

“Olivia? Come on, Micky.”

“Hey, I have to grab any bonding opportunity with my daughter with both hands these days. You know that.”

“How’s Liv doing?” Amber was always astounded by the amount she missed her godchildren when she went away for more than a few days. Olivia, especially, would call her regularly, just to talk about her day, or to confide in Amber something about her mother she didn’t agree with—which was a lot at the volatile age of fourteen.

“You’ll see her after school, so no need to change the subject. Why don’t you give Martha a call now?”

“When did you become so bossy?” Amber put her phone on the table between them.

Micky stared at the phone as though it was a ticking bomb, the seconds on the timer quickly counting down. “You’re not going to call her now?”

“Not here in front of you and with all these people around.” Amber looked around the Pink Bean. It was the middle of the afternoon and apart from Josephine behind the counter and a man mesmerized by his own phone at a table a few feet away, there was no one around.

Micky held up her hands. “Hey, I’m just glad you made the decision. A woman like Martha... well, you don’t want to keep her waiting too long.”

“What do you mean?” All sorts of things could have happened during Amber’s absence from Sydney. “Do you know something?”

Micky shook her head. “No, I just don’t know if Martha’s the sort of woman who would sit by the phone waiting for you to call. She’s getting on.” Micky painted a big smirk on her lips.

Though it was said in jest, Amber suddenly felt like she was on the clock. “Then I’d best get home and give the fair lady a call.” Amber drained the last of her green tea. She looked at her friend. Oh yes, lady love was definitely agreeing with Micky. And she’d been the one who’d had to push and push until Micky was finally ready to take that leap—until she stopped being so afraid. Amber was ready to let go of some of her own fear. She had made Martha wait long enough.

“I’ll see you later.” She rose and kissed Micky on the cheek.

“Good luck,” Micky said, a sparkle in her eye.

Amber had to think really hard to remember when she’d last called a woman to ask her out. Truth be told, she preferred to be asked, which happened occasionally, though it had been a while. Micky always said it was an uninviting vibe Amber was giving off. Amber always shrugged that off as nonsense, but perhaps there was more truth to Micky’s words than Amber cared to admit.

But there she stood. Phone in hand. Nerves doing something to her stomach. Amber remembered the first time she’d met Martha at the dinner party. How she’d felt instantly attracted to her, to the pale determination in her eyes and what that could mean. But Amber had to immediately push that attraction away because Martha was intended for Micky— for her best friend. And to Amber, it didn’t matter that Micky was besotted with Robin. It was the principle that mattered. Or so she liked to make herself believe.

“Enough,” she muttered under her breath. It was time. Amber was ready. Of course, it wasn’t a given that Martha was even still available, though if she weren’t, and had met the love of her life while Amber was away, surely Micky would have heard rumors at the Pink Bean. Martha was Sheryl’s colleague at the university. Sheryl’s wife Kristin was Micky’s boss at the Pink Bean. God, when had they all become such a typical group of lesbians? Everything so intertwined; everyone so up in each other’s business.

Just call, Amber thought, and she did. Her palms sweated and her heart beat a little faster, but more than anything, it felt freeing to finally take this step. To do something.

“Hi, Amber,” Martha said.

Amber was taken aback. Martha must have already had her number in her phone as well. She really hadn’t quizzed Micky enough on all the things that were said while she was gone. God knows what Micky had said about her.

“Hey, er—” Amber suddenly remembered all the reasons why it had been so long since she’d called someone to ask her out. The whole thing always so quickly reached a level of awkwardness she didn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m so glad you called,” Martha said. She was obviously more skilled at this. Or perhaps more of a natural—which was why, subconsciously, Amber had liked her so much when they’d first met.

“I gather we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow at Micky’s dinner party. But I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner alone with me some time this weekend?” Amber asked.

“I would love that,” Martha replied.

It was really that easy. Amber only realized how furiously her heart had been beating now that its thunderous thud was quieting down a little. She took a deep breath, and said, “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

They settled on a date and time and a couple of minutes later Amber stood with her phone in her hands, the same way as before she’d called, but she felt like a different woman entirely.