Page 1 of About Last Night

CHAPTER ONE

AUDREY

“Audrey, go. Seriously. I got this.”

I look around the apartment I’ve shared with my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—and wonder if I’m doing the right thing, sneaking off with half of everything while Shae isn’t here. I think of her reaction to a half-empty apartment when she returns. It will be part shock because we definitely didn’t talk about me moving out; and part anger because she wasn’t in control of me and everything I do. A good deal of self-pity because I’m treating her so, so wrong and she’s done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment, and an even bigger dose of indignation because she’s Shae Baker, by God, and she’s the one who does the leaving. My stomach twists at the thought of her reaction, and I hate myself a little bit for caring at all.

“You see, that look right there is why you need to leave.” My twin sister, Willa, is pointing her finger in my face. “Do not feel sorry for that gaslighting bitch. You are taking what’s yours and getting out. This is what you want, remember?”

“Yes, it absolutely is. It’s just?—”

Willa puts her fingers on my lips. “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Her face softens and she pulls me into a hug. “I know this is hard, which is why I’m doing it and not you.” She pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. “Go to the Dew Drop Inn and stake it out to make sure Shae doesn’t leave early. I’m guessing the guys and I need about two hours to be cleared out of here. I’ll text you when we’re done, OK?”

I take a deep breath. “OK, yes. You're right. You're right. You're absolutely right.”

One corner of Willa’s mouth quirks up at the nod to theWhen Harry Met Sallyquote. Carrie Fisher’s Marie was as delusional about her married boyfriend as I’ve been about Shae Baker for the last five years.

Like all good love stories, it started out idyllic. Shae was charming and suave and so confident. In charge, but not in an overbearing way. Handsome and sexy, and the sex was next-level amazing. She wanted to take care of me, and I desperately wanted to be taken care of. It was nice to come home to someone who would manage our house, social engagements, vacations, bills. Our life, basically. It helped that we were both career-driven, had the same taste in decor, loved to travel, and enjoyed the company of the same friends. Mostly. Slowly, managing our life morphed into Shae managing my life. What I thought were mutual interests faded from our lives until we were doing things Shae loved and I tolerated. When Shae planned something I didn’t want to do, she went without me, but not until she’d tried to manipulate and guilt trip me into going. Until one Saturday night I was alone at home, again, I realized that it had been weeks since we’d gone out together and I didn’t care. I was relieved when she wasn’t around.

That was the first night I smelled another woman on her.

I’m done.

“I love you,” I say to Willa.

“Well, you ought to because I’m amazing.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help smiling. Willa is the sunshine in my life. The yin to my yang. Not only my sister but my best friend. Confidante. We finish each other’s sentences and, honestly, we don’t even have to speak most of the time to know what the other person wants or is going to say. Is it any wonder we’ve both had such hard luck with romantic partners when we have someone in our life who fills that emotional role?

“And so humble, too,” I tease.

“You’re better at humility than I am. Go.” Willa turns me around and gently pushes me toward the door.

I steel myself and walk out the door of the apartment I shared with Shae for four years without a backward glance.

I sit in my car outside the Dew Drop Inn and watch in my rearview mirror as a steady stream of Denver’s queer community file into the only lesbian bar in the city. The only lesbian bar in seven hundred miles, to be precise. Dewey’s is always packed, but especially on Friday nights for karaoke and the midnight drag show. Shae is a regular on Friday, and a regular on stage. With her lean build, short dark hair, androgynous style, and deep alto voice, she gives the Elvis and James Dean drag kings a run for their money. It was incredibly sexy when she sang songs like “Love Me Tender” to me. Shae would needle me about getting up there and singing to her (I do have a rather nice voice, if I do say so myself), but there is a huge difference between getting up to give a presentation to hundreds of people at work and singing in front of a bar crowd. The first is easy; the idea of the latter makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide. Shae wouldn’t let it go, so I stopped going.

Of course, skipping karaoke night meant I no longer got to see or fantasize about the sexy DJ, Toni D, either.

I sit up straight in my seat. “Speak of the devil,” I murmur.

Toni strides across the parking lot, greeting people in line with hugs and lots of laughter, and is waved in by the bouncer at the door. No one standing in line seems to care she skipped ahead.

I’m almost tempted to give up my stakeout and go inside so I can watch her all night, maybe find the courage to talk to her for the first time, see if this secret attraction I’ve been harboring for a couple of years can withstand an honest to goodness conversation.

I slouch down in my seat. I’m here to stake out Shae, not flirt with another woman in front of her. Plus, the last thing I need to do is start cruising for women. The idea of getting back out there, trying to make a connection, getting to know someone again is exhausting. I just don’t have the energy or mental bandwidth for it right now. I shudder at the thought of dating apps.

I glance in my rearview mirror and see her, Shae, looking gorgeous, strutting across the parking lot with four of our friends and a young, beautiful woman on her arm. Even though my mind knows better, my stomach and heart clench at the sight. I’m not sure if it’s from seeing Shae with her arm around a much younger and hotter version of myself, or our four friends with her, laughing at whatever Shae is saying and apparently not caring at all that she is cheating on me, since we haven’t technically broken up. As far as Shae knows, Willa and I are in Texas having Thanksgiving with our mother. As if we’d ever do that willingly.

Shae palms the woman’s ass as the door to the bar closes behind them.

“That fucking bitch,” I say to the empty car, my blood boiling. I already know she’s been cheating on me, but the least she could do is sneak around. But she’s right out here in public, at Dewey’s, with her hands all over another woman’s ass. And our friends just go along with it.

“Jesus, I’m such an idiot.” Harmonicas wail out of my car’s Bose speakers, reminding me of the epic fuck-you break-up album of my youth.

I know exactly what I’m going to do.

I turn my car off and launch myself out the door before I can change my mind.

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