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“Chloe…stop with the accusatory diatribe.”

Chloe was unfazed by my reprimand. “Okay, fine. I still think she’s somehow behind what happened to her husband. But I’ll withhold judgment until we hear otherwise. Somethin’ ain’t right, though.”

“Well, she has an alibi—one the police are checking on. They still don’t know if it was a mechanical failure, sabotage… or something else. They’ll be looking at the car this week.”

“Do you want to believe she had nothing to do with it, especially after getting that sizable check?

“Chloe!”

“Hmmm, so what has you bugged?” she asked, not letting go of the bone.

“Nothing,” I replied, not wanting to get into the frustration I felt regarding my boyfriend.

“Bullshit, nothing. You didn’t even greet me when you came through that door, especially since you hadn’t been here or checked in with me today.” Her voice was softer as she walked up to my desk. “You just don’t seem to be your usual self.”

I let out a sigh and sat back in my chair. “It has nothing to do with… with anything work-related.”

She braced her hands on the edge of my desk and leaned forward. “Did you get into a fight with that sexy boyfriend of yours?”

Chloe knew me too well. She’d been with me for as long as I’d been dating Jonesy. If I ever had any issues with my relationship, I’d always chat with Wynn. She’d never asked about our relationship or whether he and I had argued. I knew she wasn’t one to judge or get too much into my business. Other people, yes, but I could always trust her. Maybe I needed to talk it out and get a different perspective.

She straightened and folded her arms across her chest. I decided to rip the band-aid off. “We didn’t argue. It’s… I don’t know, frustration on my part with his lack of affection in front of others, okay? He’s fine when we’re in private, or in a gay club where he feels safe. But he treats me like he would any other friend, whether we’re out in public or even at his precinct. I guess it… it finally got to me today.” I looked to the side.

“I get it,” she said, pulling a chair out to take a seat. “I had a girlfriend a few years ago who refused to hold my hand in public. Said she wasn’t into broadcasting what we were. I finally asked her if she was ashamed to be with me. And guess what? The bitch admitted it—she was ashamed of being a lesbian.”

I sat in disbelief at someone being ashamed of who they were, and I was sure my face said it all. What came out of my mouth missed her point. “I-I didn’t know you had a girlfriend years ago,” I stammered.

“Really? That’s what you took from that?” she chided.

“Uh… sorry, no. You’ve just never told me you used to be with a woman. You’re dating Matt now, right?”

“It’s something that happened before I met you, Craig, and I don’t talk about it. And yes, Matt and I are still together. And to satisfy your curiosity, I’m bisexual.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied. She thrust a hand out and raised her eyebrows to get me to continue.

“Right,” I said, acknowledging that she wanted to know more. “Jonesy isn’t ashamed to be with me. Most of it is his upbringing in a sports-dominated household. They weren’t into showing affection beyond butt slaps and high-fives. Plus, he was a star football player at the University of Georgia, and you know how homophobic that world can be. Old habits not unlearned.”

“You’ve been together long enough to have a conversation about how you feel, right?” she asked. Her tone shifted to understanding and empathy.

“I’ve brought it up, of course. His explanation is always the same. He says he’ll try to do better, but things haven’t changed.” I took a deep breath. “I was at the precinct earlier, and between the generic greeting, followed by a weird goodbye, it got my dander up.”

“What was weird about the goodbye?” she asked, using air quotes.

“We had some playful, sexy banter about seeing each other tonight, but then it changed. We weren’t even around anyone. He said he wished he could kiss me, but⁠—”

“Ahhh… he used ‘but’ to remind you of his boundary,” she interjected.

“Yup. A complete dick deflator for me. It brought the issue right back to the forefront of my mind. I love the man to death, but it stifles me from reaching out to him the way I want to in front of others. He always has this looking-over-his-shoulder behavior.”

“Since this is so fresh, how do you feel about talking about it with him again soon?”

“He’s coming over tonight. I need to bring it up again. I don’t want to throw ultimatums at him; we just need to come to some compromise.” I paused because I wasn’t sure if I should disclose his drag life. “He sang to me at Beaux Nightclub on Sunday night at a fundraiser.”

“Wait. He sang to you?” she asked, sitting forward in her chair.

“I’ve never told you he has a drag persona and can sing beautifully. He does it on the side, and not everyone in his life knows.”

“Damn. I wish I’d been in the loop on this. I would have loved to see him perform. What song did he sing to you?”