Stevie didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was here. She and Iris were nothing, fake, a business arrangement, and Claire was Iris’s best friend, not hers.
“I notice you’re still wearing your line dancing outfit,” Claire said. “Did you... did Jenna—”
“It’s not Jenna,” Stevie said. “Jenna is lovely, but I didn’t...”
“Got it,” Claire said. She tapped her nails on the table, a yellow diamond ring shining on a very important finger.
“That’s a lovely ring,” Stevie said.
Claire beamed down at her finger. “Thank you. Delilah did that all by herself. I was very impressed.”
Stevie smiled, something Iris said a few weeks ago filtering slowly through her thoughts.
My best friend, Claire, is now engaged to the only person she’s ever tried to have a purely sexual relationship with.
She took another sip of her tea, watched Claire fiddle with the ring, a little grin still on her face.
“Can I ask you something?” Stevie said.
Claire glanced at her. “Of course.”
“How did you...” Stevie paused, half wondering if she shouldreally be doing this, but she had to know. And there was no one else she could ask. All of her friends already thought she was with Iris.
“How did you know?” Stevie asked. “With Delilah. When you two first started... you know.”
Claire laughed. “So Iris at least told you that story.”
“No. Not all of it. Just that it started with... well, it started out as...”
“Sex?”
Stevie’s face warmed. “Yeah.”
Claire nodded. “And you’re asking how I knew I wanted more.”
“Yeah. I guess I am.”
Claire inhaled deeply and sat back in her chair. “I just... knew. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Hated being away from her. And yeah, it was partly about sex, but it was more than that. I wanted to hold her hand. Make her laugh.”
“Romance.”
Claire smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. But it was deeper than just romance too. I wanted to be part of her life, the good and the bad, with all her snark and attitude and bluster. I didn’t care about any of that. Or actually I did, but it didn’t deter me. I wanted all of her.”
Stevie’s eyes stung, and goddammit, she was not going to cry again in front of this woman. Except she already was, her tears on a mission to humiliate her as they raced down her face.
“Oh, sweetie,” Claire said, grabbing a café napkin and handing it to Stevie.
“Sorry, shit.”
“It’s okay.”
Stevie wiped her eyes, the brown paper scratching at her tender lids.
“You like her,” Claire said. “Youreallylike her.”
“Who, Delilah?” Stevie said, and Claire busted up laughing.Stevie laughed too, tears mixing with this brief moment of mirth, but then Claire reached out and squeezed her arm.
“You like her,” she said again, “and she told you to leave this morning. Didn’t she?”
