Page 12 of Tickled Pink

I have a second great boyfriend; a man who makes me laugh harder than I ever dreamed was possible.

We all live together in my dream house with my dream pet.

I have supportive parents who love me and think I can do no wrong.

Or so I thought.

I pause on the street corner, gently tugging on Stinky’s leash to keep her from racing into traffic. “Hold on, girl,” I say.

She stops beside me, impatiently wagging her tail as we wait for the light.

It’s not normal.

My father is wrong. I know that. There’s really no such thing as normal in this world anymore. Seven billion humans and not a single one of them is the same. Statistics shift more toward abnormal every day. I know this, and yet...

My heart still hurts.

I shouldn’t doubt what I have for a second, but I do.

I shouldn’t think twice about my love for my boys, but I do.

I thought my parents were different from Thad and Max’s, but they aren’t.

I thought they understood us, but they don’t.

Ugh, I’m giving myself a headache.

The light goes green and I step forward to walk Stinky across the street. I reach into my pocket for my keycard as I turn us toward the office building on the corner: the New York branch of Fortnight Press and my home away from home.

I scan my card, and the electronic door unlocks. The place is officially closed for the holidays, so I should have the place to myself to quietly think things over.

Stinky instantly stalls, her nose pointed down at the floor to take in all the various smells in the lobby.

“Come on,” I say with a chuckle.

We board the elevator to the tenth floor. I focus on the dog’s excitement over my own personal misery. She rarely gets to go anywhere other than the house or the dog park, so I’ll consider this a Christmas treat.

I step off the elevator and scan the dark office space. The sea of cubicles are empty, many of them lined with holiday decorations that I’ll be sad to see go once New Year’s rolls around and life goes back to normal again.

I take two steps toward my office in the back corner before a muffled giggle finds my ears. I pause, focusing my senses and following the noise behind my office door. I ease closer and I hear it again, followed by the sudden crash of my pencil cup plummeting to the floor.

I sigh and raise a brow at my inquisitive pup. “Jackie,” I mumble.

I press my ear to the door, catching another round of giggles and a grunt or two. I roll my eyes before knocking twice. Hard.

“Shit—” I hear.

A shuffle of feet. A push of a chair.

“Go, go, go—”

The latch of my coat closet door.

“Jackie?” I ask, knocking again. “Are you in there?”

The door swings open in front of me and I smile at her flushed cheeks and prominent cleavage poking out behind her haphazard black locks.

“Phoebe,” she says, straightening up. “What, uh...” She leans into the doorway, blocking the view. “What are you doing here?”

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