Thursday morning, sitting at my desk while applying my latest OPI color, “The Berry Thought of You,” my phone buzzed with a message. Once again, I was tasked with holding down the vacant fort at the office with nothing to do. Texting with wet nails was tough to do as I attempted to press the letters with the pads of my fingers without touching the tips to the glass.

Roma: Friday night at 8 pm. Bar None. Stella said to tell you to invite Roxie and Ronnie.

I hadn’t heard from Roma since the car show and had hoped she’d forgotten about hanging out. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I didn’t want Collier finding out we’d done something and think it was more than friendship. But I liked Roma and knew we’d have a good time. My dating life had gone to shit, there wasn’t a man or woman interested in me romantically, and I had nothing better to do.

Me: Sounds good. Are we meeting there?

Roma: Yep. See you then.

I sent texts to Roxie and Ronnie who both jumped at the chance at a night out. Amy and Trish would tag along, and Beck and Stella would be there as well. Which left Roma and me. Truthfully, I was grateful to have another single woman to add to the pack. Yes, she was considerably younger than the rest of us, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t be the only one flying solo, the seventh-wheel—Roma evened out the group and kept me from hanging in the wind…even if it might further complicate things with Collier.

The following day lingered, and I’d fallen asleep at my desk twice, only to be woken up by the phone ringing and drool on the corner of my mouth. Thankfully, no one had come into the office to find me catnapping. I really needed to be more driven. I was still in my thirties. Lots of people started new careers at my age. My eyes rolled, and I realized there wasn’t anything that interested me that was worth starting over somewhere else. I’d always loved that my job didn’t require late nights or weekends—I got to leave everything at the office—but recently, the lack of anything substantial in my life had started to make me second-guess that complacency…although, not enough to do anything about it.

I locked up and left promptly at five o’clock and stopped by to see Mrs. Grobin to grab a bottle of wine before going home. Ronnie offered to pick me up, which meant I could have a glass of wine while I dressed. When I got home, I grabbed some leftover veggie salad out of the fridge, poured myself a glass of vino, and turned on the stereo. One glass turned into three, which I would regret tomorrow morning, but that didn’t matter right now.

I opted for a shower since I had time to spare, and it would give my hair considerably more volume if it were clean and freshly blown out. The lavender scent of shampoo hung in the bathroom while I shaved my legs. And then again when I put on my favorite lotion before dressing. My attire was a debate—part of me wanted to go all out, dress for the scene, but the other part, the one that won, wanted to dress more casually…more my age. I opted for a mix of the two, leaning more toward comfort than fashion. I firmly believed a woman should never leave the house without looking her best—chance encounters could happen anywhere—but at the same time, hanging with seven lesbians would likely put a damper on any personal party I might have.

Donning my favorite dark-wash skinny jeans, booties, and a loose sequin tank top, I’d be able to dance, relax, or draw attention—whichever the night called for. I went easy on the makeup, more natural than the heavier application for evenings, and rolled my hair into long, thick curls that hung midway down my back. Just before Ronnie barked at me from downstairs, I added a stack of thin bangles to my wrist and hooked a pair of chandelier earrings that matched to my ears.

“Come on, Gizzy. We’re supposed to be there at eight.”

I stomped heavily on the stairs. “Pull your panties out of your ass. I’m ready.”

“I don’t have any panties on—Trish likes it better that way.” She winked at me, and I swallowed back the vomit. I loved them both but didn’t want to think about either of them naked. It would be like envisioning my mom in the buff. Just no. “Damn, you look fantastic. How much are you running these days? I’d swear you’ve lost weight.”

“What have you done?” My hand met my hip that I cocked out to the side.

“Nothing…”

“Then why are you being nice?” I moved past her to the kitchen to grab my cell phone and keys before I tossed them into my purse.

“I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. Are you on a diet?” She pulled her head back to take me in.

“Stop.”

“Just worried about you, Giz. I don’t want you wasting away on me. You’ve been kind of MIA the last few weeks. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Veronica. I’m here anytime you want to come by.”

That was only partially true. I’d been at Collier’s a good bit recently, but no one else knew that—except maybe Beck, if her brother had told her.

“All right. Well, Trish is in the car, so let’s move. No need to start the night off with a bitch fest.”

I stopped and stared at her. “Are you in the doghouse, again?”

“I may or may not have stayed at Holden’s three times this week.”

“The fact that your boss lets you shack up at his house when you and your girlfriend fight blows my mind. Doesn’t his wife care?”

“Nah. She kind of made me my own room. Well, the guest room, but she decorated based on stuff I like and calls it mine. Speaking of Janelle, we should have called her to see if she wanted to join us.”

“Isn’t she a little young to be hanging out with this crowd?”

“She’d never escape without Holden anyhow. Now that she’s knocked up, he doesn’t let her out of his sight. I keep waiting for him to make her start working from the firm so he can keep an eye on her.”

We got in the car after I locked the front door, and Trish appeared unusually chipper.

“You look great, Giselle. All that running is paying off.”

I didn’t know what these bitches were tripping on. I wasn’t running any more or less than I always had, and my diet hadn’t changed. My clothes fit just like normal. “Umm, thanks.”

The two of them bickered back and forth about the apparent cause of Ronnie’s stay with Holden and Janelle. Twelve-hundred-dollar Christian Louboutin over-the-knee leather boots. V was lucky it had only taken Trish three days.

“You didn’t seem to mind when I showed up to bed with nothing else on but those boots you’ve continuously bitched about.” Ronnie never knew when to shut up.

“That was before I realized we could have made a house payment instead of adorning your feet.”

“It’s not like we can’t afford them. Why do you care?” I could hear the pout in Ronnie’s voice from the back seat.

“Because we’re never going to have a baby if you don’t stop spending money!”

Whoa. That was not something I’d expected to hear. Ronnie and I hadn’t talked the way we normally did in recent weeks, but this revelation warranted a phone call—she should have made time.

“I need to enjoy them while I can. Do you have any idea what pregnancy will do to my body? Knee-high leather boots will find their way to the back of the closet when the stretch marks take over.”

I didn’t have a clue what was going on and didn’t think I should interject to find out. I wasn’t sure how two lesbians went about having a baby, but before I could stop myself, the words fell out of my mouth. “How the hell do lesbians get pregnant?” I was totally confused.

“Sex or a turkey baster.” Ronnie’s clipped response marked her agitation, but I still wasn’t clear on the issue.

“Which would you two do? Isn’t in vitro really expensive?”

“We have a donor.” I couldn’t see Trish’s face, but I could hear the happiness in her voice.

“She wants to farm me out to have sex with some guy.”

My head whipped from side to side, following the bickering banter between the two of them in front of me. If I weren’t careful, I might strain a muscle in my neck.

“He’s not some guy. I’ve known him most of my life. Chase has an incredible gene pool.”

“Too bad I like pussy and not dick, Trish. I’m not interested in having Chase impregnate me through traditional methods to save a buck.”

“Then quit spending money like it’s fucking water, and you won’t have to fuck him.”

We’d pulled into the parking lot at Bar None, and I couldn’t get out of that car fast enough. The two of them had serious issues, and I’d have to get the details from Ronnie when her other half wasn’t around.

Thankfully, Roxie, Amy, Beck, and Stella were all waiting at the door, talking to the bouncer, when we strolled up. I tried to wipe the vexed expression from my face and offer them a smile. “Hey, guys. Where’s Roma?”

“Already inside,” Beck answered and then opened the door for us to all pile in.

The place was packed for it to be this early on a Friday night, and the crowd that was typically filled with people in their late twenties seemed to have matured to the mid-thirties. Surely it hadn’t been that long since I’d been here that the entire customer base changed.

Roma dragged my attention away from the patrons when she called my name. “Giselle, over here.”

She looked like sex in heels. My mouth watered at the thought of hooking up with her—she was single. I was single—she had a dugout that matched my own. And I quickly reminded myself, I needed a bat, not a glove, regardless of how pretty she was, or the fact that she could make straight women pant, she couldn’t drive it out of the park without anything to swing.

The moment I set my purse on the high-top Roma had secured for our group, Ronnie and Trish started up again about a baby and pregnancy. No one else seemed at all shocked by the topic and even joined in supporting Trish. I’d entered the Twatlight Zone, and I needed to escape. The wine I’d consumed at home only served to dull my senses but not drown out the insanity coming from my best friend’s mouth.

“Giselle, you look amazing. Jesus, I hope I’m in that great of shape at your age.”

I pressed my lips together tightly and forced them in the direction of visual happiness, but the smile was strained. Roma was too young to understand my age was a touchy subject or how hard I fought the genetic time clock that ticked away on my face and body. Instead, I focused on the fact that all my friends had said nearly the same thing upon seeing me. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, and it was more than the fish between these hoochies’ legs.

My hands went up in animation. It happened every time I got riled up. I couldn’t help it—I was a hand talker. “What the hell is going on?”

All seven of the heifers gave me innocent glances as if they had no clue what I referred to.

“Don’t play coy with me. What’s with the compliments?” I glared at Ronnie who had stopped bitching at Trish long enough to respond.

“You’re paranoid, Gizzy. You just look hot tonight.”

I could normally spot a lie from ten feet away when it came from Ronnie, but she appeared sincere. The rest of these whores, I wasn’t so sure about. Something was going on, but I wasn’t privy to what. Maybe I really was suspicious for no reason. I eyed each of them skeptically and decided on alcohol at the bar. I didn’t offer to get anyone else anything, I just needed a few minutes to pull myself together.

“What can I get you, doll?” The guy behind the bar was hot with a bad-boy vibe. His arms were covered in ink, and his eyes were captivating—but that grin would have the ladies’ panties on the floor before he could unzip his pants.

“Vodka tonic, please.”

My back was to the crowd while I watched Johnny Rocker mix my drink when a hand landed on my waist and warm breath hovered near my ear. “Would you like to dance?” The voice was deep and mellow…and unfamiliar.

When I glanced over my shoulder, a good-looking guy stepped back but didn’t remove his fingers from my hip. I took the drink from the bartender after paying him and returned my attention to the man waiting for my reply. My girlfriends hadn’t noticed my absence, and I wasn’t interested in whatever they had going on, so I gave him a nod and followed him to the dance floor with my vodka in hand.

The upbeat music thumped around us, and people clogged the small space, but the man who remained nameless found a spot in the center of the crowd and created a nook for us to move. I tossed back the remains of my liquor and placed the empty glass on a tray when a waitress passed by. The instant my hands were free, his found the belt loops in my jeans and snagged them with his thumbs. He pulled me closer, and the only thing I could grab onto were his thick upper arms. I could feel the muscles contract beneath his shirt, and the definition was obvious even through the fabric. Although he was attractive by any standards, he didn’t pre-heat my baby oven.

He never tried to talk and didn’t push the personal space boundaries—the man appeared to be content dancing. Even when the beat slowed and the moves became more provocative, he never took it too far. By the fifth or sixth song, my skin had dampened with sweat, and my throat dried. When I told him I was going to the bar for a drink, he didn’t ask what I wanted or offer to get it for me. He just let me go. And when I turned around after placing another order with the tatted mixologist, my dance partner had already paired off with someone new.

I didn’t have it in me to care. He’d saved me the trouble of telling him I wasn’t interested. I stood there and stared out at the people moving to the music and thought about Justin and how my standards had gotten so low, and now, a solid eight held no interest. And I could tell, just by the way the stranger danced, he’d be an amazing lay. Meh, still nothing.

Leaning with my back against the edge of the bar, I swirled the ice in my glass and took in all the hordes of lonely people—most were smiling, appearing to have a good time, but I let myself believe they, too, were all going home to an empty house and cold bed. Not even the sight of my OPI “St. Mark’s the Spot,” polish on my freshly painted nails brought a smile to my lips. I’d waited months for this color to come back in stock and made sure to coordinate my top with the vibrant blue, but it did nothing for me.

In a matter of weeks, my entire life force seemed to shift, the energy—my chi. It switched directions but forgot to mention it to the only person who mattered…me! My job had always been unfulfilling, but I’d never cared to make a change. Men had been disposable until they’d all been thrown away. Women left an even less satisfying taste in my mouth. And now, I didn’t care about getting laid or my pretty nail polish. I didn’t know what the world was coming to, but this didn’t work for me.

Lost in my thoughts and the vision of middle-aged loneliness moving to the music that pumped through the speakers, I hadn’t realized who stood next to me. But I didn’t have to see him, I felt him. The hair on my arms stood on end, and I knew Collier was within arm’s reach.

“Stalking me now?” My brows raised in question, but I didn’t turn to look at him.

“I think technically since I was here first, you would be stalking me.”

I jerked my head in his direction. “What do you mean you were here first? We all got here at eight.”

“Yeah, and I got here before that. I met Roma around seven thirty for a drink. I thought you knew I was coming?”

Laughing, I turned my entire body toward him with my elbow on the bar. “How would I know you were coming to a girls’ night out?” I cocked my head to the right while awaiting his response.

“I assumed she told you since she invited me.”

Those bitches. You look fantastic, Giselle. You look amazing, Gizzy. You look great. Have you been running more? Gah, I hope to look that good when I’m as old as you. Okay, so Roma didn’t say those exact words, but that’s what I heard. They were all lying-ass whores. They all knew Collier would be here. They’d set me up. Roma had pulled every last one of them into her web of manipulation.

“My guess is I’m the only one who didn’t know, but that’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.” I downed the rest of my drink like it was a shot and slammed it down on the bar a tad too forcefully. “Wanna dance?”

He chuckled, but not because he thought something was funny. “Yeah…I don’t dance.”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the nameless body builder I’d spent several songs with. “You do tonight.”

Collier made a valiant effort at attempting to dissuade me, but the music was too loud, and I didn’t care that he wasn’t interested in musical gyration. I wanted to see if anything piqued my arousal or if my carnal treasure had been lost at sea. Women didn’t do it for me. Men weren’t doing it for me. But something stirred in me every time I was near West. He treated me like a sister, well, not his sister, but a sister, and I was curious to see if he could juice my peach.

I’d tried to deny his ability to affect me, that I had any interest in him, but he didn’t even have to touch me for my body to respond. Electricity hummed through my arms and legs, and even with the alcohol in my system, I was hyper aware of every move he made. The way we swayed to the music had my insides on fire, but the moment Collier turned my back to him and pulled me close with his muscular arm around my waist…there was no more denying it, no more pretending. I loved everything about this man, and we’d never so much as kissed.

Even now, as close as we were, he hadn’t crossed a line. He’d definitely gotten into the moves, and I was so far in I was drowning, but his hands didn’t roam. He kept one forearm securely across my pelvic bone and the other across my clavicle. Every once in a while, I’d hear him sing a line or two of the lyrics and wonder if he’d chosen those particular words to hum in my ear, or if they’d just hit him at the moment he’d wanted to voice them. The longer we stayed together like this, the more screwed up my head became. I questioned every tick of his finger, flex of his arm, swivel of his hip. Each word he said, song he sang, I wanted to know if any of them were for me.

But I couldn’t ask.

I couldn’t turn around and press my front to his. My longing to look him in the eyes and see what I felt reflecting back at me, would never happen. I’d perpetrated a lie, and he was going to be my punishment. Because either way, it wouldn’t end well. I’d never told him I was into women, his sister had—but I hadn’t corrected it. And I’d let him believe for months that I’d never been into men. He didn’t even know I’d been married. That Chris was the asshole who started this demise. But because I just had to prove a point, I had to show Ronnie that she wasn’t always right, I had to play around…and in the end, it would cost me.

The alcohol may have clouded my judgment, or maybe my feelings for this man might have been the culprit, I didn’t know, but somewhere, I got the kahunas to turn toward him. My chest rose and fell dramatically from the exertion, but the blood pumping through me like someone had opened the floodgates was due to Collier’s close proximity. Even in heels, I was shorter than him. I chanced a peek at his eyes and saw what I kept trying to deny. Without overthinking it, I took the plunge.

Rising on my toes, I tilted my head to the side and pressed my lips to his. They were soft and warm, everything I thought they’d be if I ever got the chance to experience them. But what they weren’t was responding. When I tried to deepen this kiss, he pushed back, unsure of what I had done. Stunned, I tried to pull away. But he didn’t release his grasp on my arms. I’d never been rejected physically by a man—even when my husband was cheating on me, he’d never stopped sleeping with me. I didn’t know how to respond and desperately needed to escape the embarrassment…and Collier.

I now repulsed men. I couldn’t seal the deal with women. And I felt like a fool. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to drown out this night.

He said something in my ear, but I’d missed it. My brain had gone into fight or flight mode and screamed at me to take off. I didn’t want to. No, I couldn’t stand here and wait to hear whatever pitiful sentiments fell from his mouth. I needed to be as far away from this man as I could get to stop the barrage of humiliation, but he wouldn’t let go of my elbow.

“I need to go.” I turned to meet his eyes, and all I saw was confusion.

“Giselle? Talk to me.” He bent his knees slightly, putting himself at eye-level with me, and his hand cupped my jaw while his thumb stroked my cheekbone.

My brain was on the verge of a total meltdown, and I could not be in Collier’s presence when it happened. “No. I just—I just need to…go. I have to find Ronnie.”

“If you want to go home, I’ll take you. Ronnie can stay and hang out.”

He might have seen the terror in my eyes, or maybe he just saw fear, but he knew something was wrong, and I fought against the tears that burned, threatening to make a spectacle of me. I needed an escape route quickly, preferably one that wouldn’t ask questions. I jerked my arm away and practically ran across the dance floor, bumping into people and pissing them off as I made my way through the crowd, trying to get back to our table

Collier stopped me at the edge of the dance floor. “Giselle, what the fuck? You can’t just kiss me and take off like a bat out of hell. What’s going on?” The backs of his fingers met my cheek, and he tried to calm me with his touch.

This was pointless. Nothing would come of my explanation, and I wasn’t sober enough to offer him a coherent one, even if I’d wanted to. I just shook my head and pulled away, leaving him alone on the outside edge of the group of people.

When I reached my crew, Ronnie knew something was amiss, but after seeing my eyes brimming with tears, she didn’t ask questions. I grabbed my purse, and she nodded her understanding.

Less than a minute later, a panicked Ronnie escorted me out, hand in hand. She’d asked Roxie to take Trish home and tell her where she’d gone. My friend didn’t wait for her lover’s approval, she just met my unspoken need.

The moment we stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk, we ran straight into Collier. He stood firm with his arms across his chest, a look akin to anger marking his features. I appreciated his need for an explanation, but I needed my best friend, not my…hell, I didn’t know what he was to me anymore other than a source of humiliation. I couldn’t meet his eyes and pulled on Ronnie’s hand to force her toward the parking lot.

But Ronnie stopped, refusing to budge. She wanted information and believed Collier had the answer. “What happened, West? She looks scared shitless. What the hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, Veronica.” His tone was curt, but even when he answered her, I felt his stare drilling into the top of my head.

My cheeks puffed out with air, my brows raised, and my eyes bugged—all in V’s direction. If she didn’t get me out of here in the next two seconds, I would explode. The mess would be horrendous, and her designer boots would be ruined, along with her makeup.

I felt like a child. I had created this mess, and now I needed my best friend to help me escape instead of staying to clean it up. But I just wasn’t in the right headspace to hear Collier tell me he wasn’t interested. I doubted I ever would be, but certainly not after a bottle of wine and two vodka tonics. If she didn’t help make my getaway happen and get me out of Collier’s path, I would start walking. The longer this showdown went on, the worse my anxiety got.

I wished I could take him home. Sit down on my couch with cartons of Chinese food and red wine and just tell him the truth. If I thought there was any possibility that wouldn’t go horribly wrong—I didn’t even need great odds—I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I’d sealed my fate with Collier before I ever knew I had one. And his rejection had just proven that.

“Giselle, we need to talk. Sooner rather than later. Yeah?”

I nodded as though I agreed with him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Add that to my list of tall tales. It was a good thing my nose didn’t grow as long as that list was getting.

He nodded and stepped aside.

The second we moved past him, the tears fell.

My best friend knew. I didn’t have to tell her. She quickly put her arm around my shoulders and ushered me in the direction of her car. Once we were in the vehicle, she turned in the seat to face me, and with a smartass grimace on her lips, she proclaimed, “You have to tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Giselle. I may not have witnessed what happened on the dance floor, but we’re close enough that I know your mind is starting to fuck with you. You’ve got feelings for him that you don’t have a clue what to do with. Ever since your douchebag husband left, you’ve floated from one male mistake to another without a care in the world. Then this shit about switching teams and the trail of women who have crossed your path happened. In the process, you found a friend in the least likely person, and now—you’ve fallen for him.”

“Pfft. You’re so off base.” And the nose would have grown a little longer.

“Admit it. I’m right.”

“Can you please just take me home?”

“I’ll take you to your house. And I’ll give you tonight to sort through all this shit in your mind. But tomorrow morning, I will be in your living room when you get back from running. And we’re going to hash this out like old times. And you’re going to tell me about what the hell just sent you screaming into the night.”

“I’m not fifteen anymore. I don’t have any pot, Ronnie.”

“Nope, but you’ve got spoons, and I’ll bring ice cream. Ben and Jerry will be the only men in your life tomorrow.”

“Great, now I’ll be fat and alone.”

* * *

The next morning, as promised, Ronnie sat on my couch when I came back in from my morning run. I didn’t want to talk about this. I wasn’t interested in my bestie’s thoughts on how I’d fucked up miserably. And I sure as hell didn’t want to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, which I couldn’t refuse because it would be rude after I just pounded five miles of pavement.

She waved me off the instant she saw me. “Go shower so I don’t have to smell you. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

There was no point in spending vast amounts of time on my hair or actually doing anything with my face. I had no intention of leaving the house today. Last night had been embarrassing enough, and I doubted I could ever face Collier again. And I’m sure my friends thought I was off my rocker. But part of me was pissed, too.

I flopped down on the couch next to my lifelong friend and rolled my eyes at her boobs popping out of her push-up bra and tank top this early in the morning. “Are you leaving here to go work a pole somewhere? You look like a hooker. All you need is bright-red lipstick. I have a great shade of polish for your nails if you want to borrow it.”

“We’ve talked about this before, Giselle. Green is not your color. It just makes you look sick.”

Moving on.

“So why are you here, V?”

“Because last night was a total cluster. And I’m wondering where your head is at, and what the hell happened. You never freak out like that.”

“I’ve also never been in this situation before, nor have my friends ever set me up to fall.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

I tried to keep my temper under control, but none of this would have happened had they not secretly invited Collier. Had I known he was coming, I could have prepared mentally, or hell, not gone. “I’m talking about all you bitches inviting Collier behind my back. And then carrying on about how great I looked, and I’d lost weight, blah blah blah. I just expect more from you, Ronnie. The others, not so much. But you’re my best friend.”

“First of all, I didn’t know about West being there until I saw you on the dance floor with him...and I have to say, you looked pretty happy from where I stood. That was all Beck and Roma, so don’t blame anyone but those two—and you’ll have that when you hang out with people more than a decade younger than you. Roma’s sweet but immature. Secondly, you do look radiant these days. I don’t know what the difference is, but whatever it is suits you. If you really were a lesbian, I’d have a hard time staying faithful.” She winked at me to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t feeling it. “So what happened that had you hightailing it out of there like your ass was on fire?”

“I kissed him.” I couldn’t look at her when I admitted the rest. Shame still hung heavy like a winter coat on my shoulders. “And let’s just say, he didn’t reciprocate.”

“What? You’re kidding me? He watches you like a prized possession and looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ronnie. I haven’t felt this way about anyone—regardless of what was in their pants—in years. Like before Chris, and maybe never. He’s let me in because I don’t pose a threat. I was safe because he thought I dined on twat waffles.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? That you’ve formed a friendship that’s not based on anything sexual?” Confusion caused her face to contort and her brows to furrow. It made her look like a drag queen the way her chest tried to escape that pitiful excuse for a top.

“Yeah, except it’s all rather deceptive, don’t you think? Nothing like a foundation built on a pile of crumbling lies—that’s stable. And let’s not forget, he didn’t kiss me back, V.”

She leaned back on the couch and understanding washed over her features—she finally got it.

“Shit, Gizzy. Maybe he was just caught off guard—I mean, he does think you like chicks. Can’t you just let him believe he reformed you? Brought you to the hetero world because he was such a stud muffin? Guys get off on that shit…it makes them beat their chest and roar like a badass, right?”

“That doesn’t even warrant a response. I’m not propagating lies with more lies.”

“So what are you going to do? Keep pretending you’re not interested in men when he’s around after you laid one on him? Avoid him? Neither of those are good options. You’ll drive yourself insane…and even worse, what if he starts dating someone? He’s an attractive man with a lot of money, Giselle—he’s not going to stay single forever while you figure this out.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. But it doesn’t appear there’s much to figure out. He’s straight, I’m a woman, even if he thinks I’m a coochie cuddler, and he didn’t engage when I kissed him. Aren’t lesbians fantasies for all men? I managed to fuck up a wet dream.” Nothing was going to be resolved sitting on my couch with Ronnie, so I opted for the next best thing—girl time.

Ronnie stayed with me the rest of the day. We binged on ice cream and Chinese food later that night and watched romantic comedies. I didn’t know how she had gotten free from Trish, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I had my best friend for a day, and somehow, that made all of this more bearable—even if I wasn’t any closer to a solution.