My eyes widen, scanning the email, and I burst into a smile.

Yes! Ms. Jezebel Reviews, sex-toy blogger and social media influencer with over fifty thousand followers, just promised to review Penchant’s lube. As soon as it’s ready, of course.

I push back my chair and do a little happy dance in the kitchen. Jackson and I are going to launch this product with a bang, pun intended, and getting buzz from bloggers and Instagram stars is step one of our official plan. Step two—get them to schedule blog posts and giveaways all leading up to a main launch date. We haven’t exactly worked out what’s going to happen on that launch date, but it’s a start.

Mostly I’m relieved that we’re beginning to get traction, because the last week of starting over has royally sucked. Not as bad as losing ten thousand dollars in one fell swoop, but still. This week I dug into my to-do list with fire, even more determined than before to make Penchant a success. Two of my top contenders for lube suppliers gave me updated quotes and professional references, so I can tell they’re legit. I am so not getting burned again.

And on the social media side of things? I’ve fallen completely down the rabbit hole. Never before did I know that there was a whole world of bloggers out there talking about sex and their vaginas and whether or not their clits are left-handed or right-handed. Yes, it’s a thing. But I’m part of that world now, in some small degree. And Ms. Jezebel Reviews just welcomed me in with open arms.

Heck yeah! I swing my arms in the air, glad no one can see my goofy smile. The first yes always feels the best.

A sharp knock at my door interrupts me mid-celebration. I expect it to be Jackson, dropping by unannounced since that’s a thing he does now. Instead Gayle stands on my steps.

“Hi Gayle.” She’s been so good about not saying anything if she sees Jackson walking down the path, not judging or asking questions, but tonight when she sees me, her eyes bug out of her head.

“I just brought you leftover cake that I baked,” she says with a stutter. She shoves a foil-wrapped plate at me. Heat seeps into my hands and I can smell caramelized sugar and vanilla. My mouth waters.

I know I should get on her good side, but for the past few weeks I haven’t done much more than act like a sulky teenager, hiding out in the guesthouse. If she’s trying, I need to try, too.

“Want to come in and split it with me?” I offer.

Gayle glances over my shoulder and shakes her head. “Gotta get back to, uh, you know.” She gestures vaguely back at the main house and then bolts.

Huh. What gives?

I turn around, already lifting the foil off the cake and deciding the best way to devour it when I see my laptop open on the kitchen tale. There is a giant vagina on the screen. Holy shit.

I run to the computer and slam the screen shut even though by now my stepmom is long since gone. Ice pours into my veins. Gayle just saw the vagina. Hell, you could probably see it from space.

Oh my god. I’m going to have to tell her the truth.

I set the cake on the table with regret, then hurry after her to the main house.

“Gayle, hey,” I say when she opens the front door. Her pale skin confirms my suspicions—she totally saw the vagina. “I need to explain what I think you just saw. Can I come in?”

We sit on the edge of my dad’s couch, stiff and uncomfortable, and I get flashbacks to when my dad and mom sat me down in fifth grade to teach me about sex.

“Do you remember how your teacher’s dog just had puppies? Well, do you know how that happens?” my parents asked.

I had rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry,” I told them in my very professional fifth-grade voice. “I know all about how animals mate.”

“And humans?” my dad asked tentatively.

“I read about it in the encyclopedia.” Give me a big book and I’ll read it cover to cover. I’d found the “S” volume particularly enlightening.

Why couldn’t it have been my dad who saw the vagina? After all, the photo series that helped my dad land his professorship was actually a series of nudes. His models were everyday people doing everyday things—shopping for groceries, standing in line at the bank—but they were naked while everyone else was clothed. It was some sort of social commentary, and he even got a spread in National Geographic with his photos all glossy and real.

“Bodies are just bodies,” he said anytime I got weird about it, but he basked in the glory of that moment for long enough that I had to beg him not to display the photos when my friends came over. There are certain lines you don’t want to cross.

All in all, talking about naked human bodies shouldn’t feel like such a big deal right now. But it’s Gayle. And it does.

I clear my throat. “So, you may have seen something on my computer.”

She purses her lips, knitting her hands together in her lap. Behind her head, a row of pictures hangs on the wall. Photographs of her and my dad around the world fill the shiny frames: in New Zealand for their honeymoon, in Africa for a safari. They’re smiling in every picture and I think of all the places I have left to go. I need to get out of Swan’s Hollow to start living my own life; I need to start collecting my own row of photographs.

I twist my toes into the Persian rug Gayle’s designer picked out. “I was doing research for a new business I’m working on. It’s a little, um, out there, so I didn’t say anything yet.”

My dad shuffles into the room and Gayle and I freeze as he presses a kiss on my temple. “Hi, Natalie. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Gayle clears her throat, her eyes narrowing. “Natalie was just telling me about her new business.”

“Oh yeah?” My dad sits next to Gayle on the couch, tugging the knees of his pants into position. The more the merrier for my confession, I guess. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m going to launch a line of personal care products.”

Gayle does not buy my bullshit. Her eyebrows raise in challenge. “What kind?”

She’s going to make me say it. Damn.

I straighten my shoulders. “Personal lubricants.” I’m not going to back down just because she can’t handle a vagina here and there.

“For sex?” my dad asks. “Sex lubes?”

Oh my god. I want to crawl into a hole and pretend this isn’t happening. But he’s waiting for a reply.

“Yes,” I say. “For sex. Actually, lubes are considered a medical device by the FDA. So really, I’m helping people solve a problem. And hopefully making a living doing it.”

My dad’s face breaks into relief. “Ha!” he laughs. “Good for you.” He leans in. “For a second there I wasn’t sure what to think.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope.”

A warm smile crinkles his eyes. “I’m proud of you for starting your own business. That’s some real drive, Natalie.”

“Thanks.” Now I just need this business to live up to expectations. And to actually, you know, place an order.

“Wait a second.” My dad and I turn to Gayle. Her body practically vibrates with fury. “What’s the timeline of this business?”

“I’ll be placing an order this week and then I’ll hopefully launch it next month.”

“And you’re expecting to have these products in my house?”

Where’s she going with this? Her frown tells me it’s not good.

“Well, I’m ordering retail boxes from a different company, so the lube would come here first so I could box it. Then I’d send everything to stores or to Amazon for storage and order fulfillment.”

“We can’t have that. What would happen if Sylvie found out?”

Sylvie. Shit. I’d totally forgotten about Gayle’s granddaughter from her first marriage. She’s the same age as Nico and the only time I actually met her was at the wedding.

“I’ll keep the products in a safe place, and even if Sylvie did find them she wouldn’t know the difference between lube and lotion. She’s five. She can’t read.”

“That’s not the point, Natalie.”

I sigh and try again. “I understand. Just keep in mind this will be a temporary thing.”

Gayle’s face hardens. “Temporary, but you’d still be running this business from our house?”

“Until I get my own place.”

“I think you’d better start looking for your own place, then.”

Gayle’s words run over me like ice water. She’s got to be kidding me. I may be living in the guesthouse rent-free, but it’s not like I’m back there throwing parties and causing problems.

“Are you serious? I’m not some sexual deviant having wild orgies here.” I look between my dad and Gayle, my heart beating so fast I’m halfway to another panic attack. I can’t afford to pay back my dad and Jackson and also get a place until I start seeing income from Penchant. “I need to find an apartment in Boston and I still need to get this product launched.”

“This product that’s not ordered?” I want to scour the self-satisfied smile from her face. If I hadn’t gotten scammed I’d already have my products ordered.

I glare at my stepmom. “I mean, it will be. This week.” I’m not quitting just because I hit a rough patch.

Gayle sighs like I’m a stupid kid who’s not catching on. “I don’t want lube or vibrators or dildos or whatever else you buy delivered here. I’m not willing to risk Sylvie or her mother finding them by accident. This needs to be a safe place for my family. And as soon as the product launches, I think it’s time for you to move out.”

“I can’t do that,” I whisper. My hands curl into fists, my cheeks hot.

“And why not?”

“I can’t afford it.”

“Your new business should be able to cover it,” Gayle sneers. The air around her practically hums with disapproval.

My dad looks back and forth between the two main women in his life, searching for a way to placate both of us. He unfolds Gayle’s fingers and wraps his hands around hers. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells his wife. “Natalie is going back to school soon, anyway.”

I cringe. I deserve to be homeless after all. I am the absolute worst.

“Um,” I say. I want to run away from this conversation but there’s nowhere to go. “Well, actually.” I open my mouth and begin to talk.