“But did you?” Harper’s voice was gentle. “When Marcus ended, you seemed relieved. And that guy in law school, what was his name?”
“Garrett.”
“Yeah. When Garrett wanted to get serious, you ran. Every time someone got close, you found a reason to leave.” Harper pushed off from the doorframe and walked into the kitchen, coming to stand by Nadia. “We figured you just weren’t ready…or maybe you hadn’t met the right person.”
“And now you have,” Nadia said quietly. “And she’s a woman, and suddenly none of those old scripts work anymore.”
Miller’s legs felt unsteady. She reached for the counter, needing something solid to stabilize herself. “I don’t know who I am,” she whispered. “If I was wrong about this, about something so basic, then what else don’t I know? What else have I been lying to myself about?”
“You weren’t lying to yourself.” Nadia’s voice was firm. “You were doing the best you could with what information you understood. That’s not the same thing.”
“It feels like lying. It feels like my whole life has been—” Miller pressed her hand to her sternum where it felt like she was cracking from the inside out. “I feel like the ground has disappeared and I don’t know how to stand anymore or which way is up.”
Nadia pulled her into another hug, and Miller pressed her face against her shoulder, her whole body trembling with the effort of keeping herself together. She felt Harper’s arms wrap around both of them from behind.
“You’re still you,” Nadia murmured. “You’re still our Miller. This doesn’t change that.”
“But everything feels different.”
“I know. But different isn’t wrong. Different is just…different.”
They held her until the trembling stopped and Miller’s breathing steadied. Harper was the first to pull back, and when Miller looked at her, Harper’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Christ,” Harper said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “We’re a mess.”
Miller laughed, the sound watery and raw. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Harper squeezed her shoulder. “This is what we’re here for.”
Nadia guided Miller to the kitchen table, pressing her down into a chair. “Sit. I’m making tea.”
“I don’t need?—”
“You’re getting tea.”
Miller didn’t argue. She sat at the table while Nadia filled the kettle and Harper dropped into the chair beside her. The kitchen settled into a wrung-out kind of silence.
“So,” Harper said after a minute, “this woman.”
Miller tensed. “What about her?”
“You don’t have to tell us who she is, but…” Harper paused, choosing her words. “Is she worth it? All this upheaval?”
Miller mulled over the question. She thought about the gray-blue eyes that had softened when no one else was looking, about a voice that could cut glass in a crowd but went quiet and uncertain when they were alone, about the way Astoria had looked at her in that conference room as if she were impossible to look away from.
“I don’t know if it matters whether she’s worth it,” Miller said. “Because I don’t think I get to choose. It’s just…there, whether I want it or not.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Miller met Harper’s eyes and bit her lower lip before answering. “Yes, she’s worth it. She’s worth everything, but I can’t have her and I’m not sure that changes anything about how I feel.”
Harper nodded slowly, something like approval crossing her face.
Nadia brought the tea over, setting a mug in front of Miller. “Drink.”
Miller wrapped her hands around the warmth. The heat seeped into her palms, grounding her.
“So, what does this make me?” she asked, and her voice sounded very small. “I dated men, sort of. In a?—”
