“Agreed,” Claire said.
Astrid just squeezed Iris tighter.
They waited.
And waited some more.
Finally, Iris sighed. “She’s married.”
The words echoed through the room like a sudden clap of thunder on a clear day, rendering them all shocked and silent. Of course, Delilah was the first to break.
“What thefuck?” she said.
Iris nodded. “Yep. Married. To a woman named Lucy. They have a goddamnkid. Elliott, age eight. He loves baseball and painting his nails purple.”
“Oh my... oh mygod,” Claire said.
“How’d you find out?” Astrid asked.
“Jillian has my phone,” Iris said. “And I, apparently, have hers, a highly inconvenient mix-up after she sailed into town this morning for some cunnilingus.”
The other three women just blinked at each other.
“That Celine Dion disaster earlier?” Iris went on. “Yeah, that was her ringtone for her fucking wife, who had no clue Jillian was taking trips to Bright Falls to fuck a redhead she met on Instagram, and I then spent the next hour on the phone with the sobbing scorned spouse of my lover, trying tosootheher.”
“Oh, honey,” Claire said.
Iris just shook her head, fresh tears welling into her eyes as her anger morphed into sadness. “I thought I was over this.”
“Over what?” Astrid asked.
“This... thisfeeling. Like who I am isn’t what anyone else wants.”
“Sweetheart,” Claire whispered, pressing closer and swiping Iris’s hair off her face. Astrid caught Claire’s eye, a knowing glance passing between them. This past fall, Iris and her boyfriend of nearly three years had split up because Grant wanted to get married and have kids, and Iris didn’t.
She’d never wanted kids, but Grant loved her and kept hoping she’d change. Finally, he gave up and left—or they mutually agreed that Grant needed to follow his dream and Iris needed to follow hers, but Astrid knew it was a blow to Iris, a judgment on the kind of woman she was, even if Grant never intended to make her feel that way.
“I just...” Iris said. “I want a partner, you know? Idowant that. But I feel like people take one look at me, at my red hair and big boobs, and they hear my loud mouth, and they just think... well, she’s good for a nice lay, but nothing else.”
“Hey, that’s not what they think,” Delilah said.
“It’s what Jillian thought.”
“Grant didn’t, though,” Astrid said. “You two were just on different paths, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not partner material.”
“It means something,” Iris said. “That Jillian thought she could treat me this way. Doesn’t that meansomething?”
“It means Jillian’s a dick,” Delilah said. “And I will personally kick her ass when I drive to Portland tomorrow to get your phone back.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Iris said.
“I’m doing it,” Delilah said.
“Okay,” Claire said, “but, like, babe, please don’t kick her ass.”
“Bykick her ass, I mean kick her ass true lesbian style, where I glare at her with my mouth all twisted up like a butthole and give her the silent treatment.”
They all laughed at that, even Astrid, and she found herself exhaling almost happily. Not that Iris was hurt—she hated what Jillian did to her—but that she had this wild group of women who would most definitely kick someone’s ass for her if she needed them to.
