No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) (17 page)

“Darren has all the information,” she said.

“Amber and I should talk. I’ve been looking for some alternative investment opportunities,” Darren said.

He must have it really bad if Lisa got him to consider investing in a yoga studio. What was next? Doing yoga himself? Either way, Amber would never take Darren’s money.

Micky just quirked up her eyebrows and gave him a quizzical look.

Then Lisa looked at her watch. “We’d best get going, babe,” she said. “My parents are expecting us.”

Upon hearing that Darren was already meeting Lisa’s family, Micky concluded that, once you’ve reached a certain age, matters progressed much more swiftly—and she was lagging behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Amber had come over early to help Micky prepare for the dinner party. At least, that was what she called it. In Micky’s eyes, it felt more like making sure enough vegetables and vegan-friendly dishes were served, even though Amber was the only vegan.

However, Amber’s help was responsible for Micky being able to spend a little longer in the bathroom sprucing herself up before the other guests arrived. Working at The Pink Bean five days a week, and being on her feet for a couple of hours every day, had instigated a minor but not insignificant bout of weight loss, and Micky fit back into a dress she hadn’t worn in ages but that had made the transfer from Mosman to Darlinghurst, because you just never knew. She was so pleased that her prediction about fitting into the dress again one day had been proven, that she descended the stairs with confidence, and when the bell rang and all three of the guests arrived at the same time, she let herself be pecked on the cheek and complimented about her looks unselfconsciously.

After introducing Martha to Amber and pouring everyone drinks, and reminding them that her cooking skills were more homely than culinary, Micky relaxed and raised her glass, content to be having this dinner at her new home. It was the first dinner party she had thrown since moving there, since leaving her old life behind. It was, though perhaps small in the grand scheme of things, a big event for her. A step in the right direction.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said. She didn’t add that it felt like a fresh start for her to have a bunch of lesbians in her home, of which one was a potential love interest.

Martha was dressed casually in a linen blouse and jeans, which didn’t stop her from looking good. She was probably one of those women who could throw on a rug and still look fabulous.

“To being here with you and not at my ex-husband and his new girlfriend’s dinner party,” she added, when they clinked the rims of their glasses together.

“Don’t tell me,” Martha said, “she’s at least ten years younger than him.”

“Don’t be so bitter.” Sheryl patted her colleague on the shoulder. “Trevor did you a favor in the end.”

“If you want to call it that.” Martha sipped from her wine. “Anyway, let’s not talk about our ex-husbands tonight. Surely we have far more interesting topics to discuss.” She let her glance rest on Micky for an instant, as though insinuating that Micky was one of those topics.

Micky smiled at her sheepishly. This was the first time she had seen Martha again since they’d met. She hadn’t had a chance to discuss with her what Amber had implored her to do. Not that Micky saw much point to that now. Robin hadn’t been to The Pink Bean once this week, nor had she texted back. Micky might as well remove her number from her phone. An act she had considered doing—for ritual cleansing purposes—that morning, because whenever she closed her eyes, or just before opening them, all she still saw was Robin all over her. When she focused really hard, she could conjure up her smell. And she had no trouble recalling how the grip of Robin’s fingers around her wrist felt. But that was over now. In the past. Time to look ahead. Which was, at this very moment, straight into Martha’s kind eyes.

It wasn’t as though, when she allowed herself to, Micky couldn’t see herself together with a woman like Martha. Mere weeks ago, it was all she ever dreamed of. But that was before Robin had showed her how easily initial attraction can turn into unbearable lust and… this yearning that Micky just couldn’t shake. A tiny part of her, even as she sat there feeling pretty pleased with herself surrounded by these women in her home, wished this was a dinner party to introduce Robin to the group.

But it wasn’t. So she’d better get a grip.

“How about I bring out some snacks?” Amber said.

Only a few minutes into the evening and Micky was already neglecting her hostess duties. She really needed to pull it together and erase all memories of that Saturday night of two weeks ago from her brain.

“I’ll help you,” Martha volunteered, and they headed into the open kitchen.

“How have you been, Micky?” Sheryl asked. “Kristin tells me you lost her a loyal customer?” It was clearly meant as a joke, but it still nagged at Micky.

“Leave her alone, Sheryl,” Kristin said. “At least now we don’t have to make wet cappuccinos anymore.”

Just the day before, Kristin had brought up Robin. Micky had just finished her shift and was packing up to leave the coffee shop when Kristin had said, “She really does seem to have moved on, from both of us.” She’d bumped her shoulder into Micky’s and continued, “But not to worry, a certain professor is very excited about seeing you again tomorrow.”

It had struck Micky then how quickly she had gone from being in denial to being attracted to one woman while another was attracted to her. Perhaps it was the effect Robin had had on her that was rubbing off on her and making her look interesting to Martha. Something with pheromones and whatnot. She’d made a mental note to google that, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Either way, all this week, and even still that night, there had only been one conclusion to every thought she’d had: Robin and how that was now dead in the water.

“It’s a good thing,” Amber had said when she’d arrived earlier. “It’s best not to wear these things out too long.”

“Here we go,” Amber said and presented Kristin and Sheryl with a tray of hummus and aubergine dip she had brought.

✶ ✶ ✶

“What with it being all the rage these days, I’ve tried it several times, but I could just never get the hang of it. I’m sure it’s me, but I don’t have the right mindset to practice yoga,” Martha said to Amber after learning she was an instructor.

Uh-oh, here we go
.
That’s the conversation hijacked for the next thirty minutes
. Mickey loved Amber dearly, but she could go on and on about a subject she was passionate about. Yoga was number one on her list.

“Then I can only assume you just haven’t come across the right instructor for you yet,” Amber, to Micky’s great surprise, simply said. “I invite you to come to one of my classes and I will happily change your mind.”

Martha smiled at her, then cocked her head. “Such utter confidence. I like it.”

Amber smiled back with the most wattage her smile could muster, then looked away from Martha, stared briefly at Micky, and folded her features into a more demure expression again.

“Can you give me a quick hand in the kitchen, please?” Micky asked.

“Sure.” Amber jumped up promptly.

Micky ushered her into the utility room. “What do you think of Martha?” she asked.

“She is really nice. So interesting, well-spoken, and frankly, gorgeous. I say go for it!” Her voice shot up.

“I thought you would say that.” Micky tried to hold Amber’s gaze, but her glance kept flitting away.

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of giving her the yoga speech, you just invited her to one of your classes.” Micky couldn’t keep a note of indignation from her voice.

“So?”

“In all the years you’ve discovered yoga, I’ve never known you to not give the speech.”

“What are you insinuating?” Amber asked.

Micky took a breath. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t.” There was no conviction to Amber’s words. She was incapable of lying, especially to Micky.

“You were just summing up all her good qualities.”

“For you, just to tip you over the edge. She likes you, any fool can see that.”

A knock on the door startled them. “Everything okay in here?” Kristin asked. “You probably didn’t hear, Micky, but your doorbell just rang. Has the stripper arrived early?” she joked.

“What?” Instantly, Micky thought about the children. Where was her phone? Had Darren tried to reach her?

“Do you want me to get it?” Kristin asked.

“I’ll get it,” Amber offered. She was probably in a panic as well—or happy to not be subjected to Micky’s questions any longer. She scooted out of the tiny utility room where they had been cramped together.

Micky had completely forgotten why she had come into the kitchen in the first place, apart from wanting to quiz Amber.

“Micky.” Amber stuck her head into the kitchen. “You may want to come out here.”

“What is it?”

Amber looked more amused than anything else.

With a thudding heart, Micky made her way to the hallway, only to find Robin standing in her doorway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Amber said, and ducked past Micky, back into the living room.

Apart from a closed-off washroom, the ground floor of Micky’s house was one big space, and the only separation between the hallway and the living room, where her guests were gathered, and probably wondering what was going on, was a small dividing wall with no door.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said. “You have guests. I should have called or texted.” Just then, a cloud broke, and rain started pelting down on the sidewalk.

Micky didn’t know what to say or do, so she just pulled Robin inside and closed the door behind her.

What was she doing there?

✶ ✶ ✶

“I’m having some people over,” Micky said after the first shock of Robin turning up out of the blue had subsided. “Do you want to join us? You can hardly go out in that rainstorm.”

“I don’t want to intrude, Micky. I just wanted to say something… in private. But I guess that’s out of the question.” She took a step backward toward the door. “I’ll come back some other time.”

“Don’t be silly.” Micky had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to hear what Robin wanted to say so badly.

“Look,” Robin whispered. “I get that you don’t want to be just friends. Turns out I’m not so keen on the idea either, what with not being able to stop thinking about you.”

Micky’s eyes grew wide. Had she heard that correctly? Had Robin just said, in hushed and conspiratorial tones, exactly what she had wanted to hear?

“That’s all I wanted to say. Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow?” Robin made for the door again. “You’d better get back to your guests.” She cast one last glance at Micky, opened the door, and disappeared into the pouring rain.

Micky just stood there for a while longer, savoring the moment, though it had already passed. Goodness. Robin wanted to be more than friends. Damn. Martha was sitting in her living room. And Amber… she would have to come to her rescue once again. She’d have to come down from her moral high ground and turn up the flirting with Martha. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already been doing it anyway.

Micky stepped back into the living room to find all four of them staring at her. Micky hadn’t told Martha about Robin. What was she supposed to say?

“Sorry about the interruption.” She headed to the kitchen. Which course were they at again? Oh yes, she’d served the mains and it was almost time for dessert. Underneath the panic about the food and keeping her company entertained, however, Micky was in full rejoice mode. Robin’s words were starting to really sink in. She wanted nothing more than to run after her, tell her how she felt—although she guessed she’d made that clear already.

She rummaged around in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, doing nothing in particular while she tried to gather her thoughts. Right. Dessert. Micky hadn’t made a big deal out of it and had just bought five tartlets at the most upmarket bakery she knew. In her experience, once guests reached dessert, they were either too full from the copious previous dishes, or too boozed up to truly enjoy her efforts.

She turned away from the sink and the stack of dirty dishes inside it. “Coffee anyone?”

“Why don’t you come sit with us for a bit and have something stronger,” Sheryl said. “You look like you need it.”

Micky was so happy Sheryl was there. If it had just been Amber, she’d be boiling water for a cup of peppermint tea—because green tea this late at night was not a good idea according to Amber.

“I know where she keeps the good stuff.” Amber got up and headed for the drinks cabinet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked. “Or am I being too nosy?”

Micky sat down. She had put herself across from Martha, whom she couldn’t look in the face right then.

“Don’t worry about me, Micky,” Martha said. “Sheryl briefed me about Robin. She wouldn’t have been a very good friend if she hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was over,” Micky said. This was a very odd thing to be apologizing for, especially because Micky felt more like jumping up and down with glee.

Amber deposited five glasses and an unopened bottle of brandy on the table.

“This is good news,” Kristin added.

“It is. It’s just a bit unexpected, and well, the timing is a bit off, I guess.” Micky couldn’t help a stupid grin from appearing on her face.

“What are you going to do?” Sheryl asked.

Have really amazing sex and probably have my heart broken
. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”

Amber planted a, by her measures, generously filled glass of brandy in front of Micky.

“I guess we’ll just be friends then.” Martha held up her glass for an impromptu toast.

Micky could kiss her, though that would be a bit ironic, for sucking some tension from the room like that.

She was finally able to hold Martha’s gaze for longer than a split second. “I would really like that.”

Next to her, though she would never admit it, Amber sat beaming.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Micky desperately wanted to get some sleep, but it was impossible. She’d also been a bit too liberal with the brandy in order to calm her nerves. She lay tossing and turning in her bed, alone, thinking that she could be in Robin’s bed right then. “Patience,” she kept whispering to herself, as she calculated what would be a decent time to call Robin the next morning.