“I felt him next to me.” She looked at Vik again. “When I was in Greyfin Bay. I feltmethere, next to me. I won’t let Dell McCleary take that away.”
Because wasn’t that what Jesus had taught her, when she was finding her bearings at the center? Trying to figure out the best ways to connect their clients with the health care and housing andsupportthey needed? Like any progress in this world, advancement came with stumbling blocks. With thinking you finally had something, before another asshole came along and took part of it away. Made it exponentially harder to grab, whether through bureaucracy or bigotry, just because they could.
So maybe Mae had suddenly inherited $750,000—an amount of zeroes that still felt surreal, that made the whole world feel different—and still couldn’t fully own what she wanted. Because she was from a place someone else didn’t like. Because she had pink hair, maybe. Because even if she was richer than she had ever dared to imagine, Dell McCleary still had more power.
There was always someone with more power.
But she wouldn’t let this one win this time.
“Still. If hetries…” Vik narrowed their eyes and pulled away to extract their phone from their bag. “Yousurethis guy isn’t on Instagram? I can’t believe I can’t even stalk him.”
Mae tried to laugh, but it got stuck somewhere in her throat.
“I swear, if I ever find his profile, I’ll send it to you straight away.”
Even Vik didn’t need to know how hard Mae had tried to find it herself. How often she’d replayed their brief in-person interaction in her head.
Sowhatif Dell happened to be one of the most attractive people she’d ever seen. She’d known it was him as soon as he’d stepped onto the porch that day, instinct confirmed when he’d opened his mouth and that voice unfurled. As deep and sexy as his body—big and burly, the kind of body that was soft and solid all at once: a belly made for his thick, folded arms to rest upon perfectly. The kind of body Mae wanted to climb like a tree, if her own body was more adept at climbing trees. That sandy beard she could practically feel on her skin the moment she’d let herself truly look at it. Closed-off brown eyes she wanted to see lit with laughter.
Except no, no she didn’t.
Because whocared.
She didn’t care in the least about his eyes or his beard or the fact that, in the flashes of her memories of that day, she was pretty sure his nails had been painted. But maybe she’d made it up. Maybe the thick fingers accompanying his thick body hadn’t been adorned with a surprising shade of deep purple at all.
It didn’t matter, if true, that it was the exact sort of surprise Mae had always been most drawn to.
God,fuckDell McCleary.
“I only have one other thing I’ve been wanting to say.”
Mae actually jumped a little, turning back toward Vik.
Vik raised an eyebrow.
“You alright there?”
“Yeah.”
Mae was pretty sure her pothos believed her, about how fuckingpissedshe was about that guy.
She wasn’t so sure about Vik. Who wouldn’t relax that damn eyebrow.
“What else were you going to say, Vik?” Mae waved a hand, imploring Vik to get on with it.
Vik shifted on the couch, throwing Mae one last suspicious look before staring at the dark screen of Mae’s TV.
“Well. There’s, you know, the fact of how horribly I’m going to miss you, which is”—Vik shook their head—“a conversation for another time, and mostly one I need to have with myself and my therapist, but.”
They looked back at Mae, the smile returned to their lips, if a bit more bittersweet.
“Mae, you should let go of this community center idea. Above the shop.”
Mae opened her mouth. Closed it.
Having an adjoining queer community center on the second floor of the bookshop had continued to be part of her pitch—to her friends, that day at brunch; to Dell, in their terse email exchanges. It wouldn’t be a full-time, multi-pronged center like the one here, like what Jesus had built, but…
“Queer joy is enough,” Vik whispered.
