“Well, fuck him and anyone else trying to put their egos in your way.” Cherie made a noise somewhere between a growl and a huff. “And your book is fantasy, right?”
“It is.”
“Well, how in the name of all that’s rational is that anything todo with him? I can see him being upset if it was a memoir telling the world he’s an ass waffle, but—”
“Ass waffle?” Kaelee echoed.
“Are you publishing it underhisname?”
“No.” Kaelee paused. “We don’t have the same surname either. Kaelee Carpenter didn’t exist until a few years ago.”
“Well, of course you did. You just didn’t have your real name yet.” Cherie held out a hand. “I’m driving. I know you have your control issues, but tonight, you need to let a friend handle some stuff, okay?”
Mutely, Kaelee handed over her keys. The last time she had to figure out how to escape her past, she did it on her own. Tonight, she was grateful to have a friend at her side, especially one willing to take the reins while she had a small meltdown.
16Greta
Midnight came and went, and Greta was still awake. Insomnia happened. It wasn’t a regular issue, but tonight, her mind was running too fast. She couldn’t sit at her table or her sofa without memories of Kaelee flooding her mind. Not just the sex, either. The thought of Kaelee leaning against the counter, flirtatious and shy in alternating moments. The thought of snuggling up to watch a regular show together. The sight of Kaelee shelf-reading and commenting on titles she’d read. Greta wanted that. She wanted a woman in her life and in her home. She didn’t want just anyone, unfortunately.
I wantthatwoman.
Greta hadn’t even realized that she had been missing the possibility of something new and exciting until Kaelee had brought it into her life. The constant possibility of a message or a bold request was exciting—like dating. Even though they had initially agreed that it was just sex, within two face-to-face meetings they had already revised that to friends with benefits. Shifting to just friends instead of toward dating meant that Greta was forced to confront her own desire for a real relationship.
Tasha had moved on before they’d even separated, yet it had taken Greta over two years to reach this point. Her scattered one-nighters with Tash hadn’t helped, but that hadn’t seemed to be an issue at first. Greta hadn’t even realized she was ready until she met “Lee.”
Maybe it’s time to date for real.
A twinge in her chest made Greta pause. The app she usually used was for casual encounters. Sappho’s Kiss definitely had the implied option of more, but they had a setting users could select from to state interests. Greta knew the option was in there. The choice boxes a user selected were for one night, something casual, online fun, or “more.” Her profile as Marie was set to casual and one night. Changing that to “more” seemed like saying she was done using the app for one-night-only connections.
Am I?
She considered switching her settings, but in the long term that meant not using the app to meet another one-nighter. Her gut said that Sappho’s Kiss Society wasn’t the place to go for dating. So Greta looked up a few articles on what sites were good for genuine queer connections, and then she downloaded Her, Zoe, Taimi, Bumble, and a couple of others. Most had monthly fees, but they were low. The hard part was adding her profile photos. On the Sappho’s Kiss Society app, no one seemed to care that she was wary about showing her face. They knew members were vetted—and that the app fees restricted who could join—so by default if a person had an account, she was arealperson. Every user had their real identity, credit reports, and medical checks on file with the company.
What if people mistook her unwillingness to show her face on these other apps as indicative that she was using a fake identity, married, or cheating? What if she did show her face and then she was approached by someone in the industry? An agent or editor? An author?
Greta was spiraling with panic when she got a notification of a message from Lee on the SKS chat. She flipped over instantly.
Lee:What are you doing?
Marie:Why are you messaging HERE?
Lee:…
She stared at the little dots that started and stopped several times before deciding she was too impatient.
Marie:Are you ok?
Lee:Sure.
Marie:Do you need to call?
Lee:I’m fine.
Marie:So…?
Lee:I miss your pussy.
Greta gasped at the blunt statement, not sure how to reply. This wasn’t how they spoke, not now. In addition to their text thread, they had spoken a couple of times a week since New York. She stared at the phone.
