Page 23 of Make Room for Love

She laced up her work boots, grabbed her backpack, and left the apartment. Outside, she inhaled a lungful of cold morning air and exhaled in relief.

She tightened her jaw as she walked to the train, passing the occasional person getting off the late shift or starting the work day like her. She wasn’t going to think about Mira sleeping under the covers in that tiny room, getting some much-needed rest. She wasn’t going to think about crawling into that twin bed next to Mira and holding her close, about kissing her good night, about making breakfast for when she woke up. She wasn’t going to think about slipping the straps of Mira’s camisole off her shoulders, sliding those little shorts down over her hips…

Isabel dug her short nails into her palms. None of that would ever happen.

Two more months.

She was going to ignore the treacherous voice in her head saying that there was more to Mira’s gaze than passing curiosity. That if Mira wanted her and she wanted Mira, then there was a chance. That unlike everything else in her life in the past two years, this would end in something other than her being left desolate and alone.

10

Mira yawnedand stretched in the open doorway to her bedroom. How long had it been since she’d slept in on a weekend? She’d needed that. The late morning sun filled the living room, making her squint. And Isabel was sitting on the couch, looking right at her.

“Oh!” Mira said, self-conscious. She was still in her pajamas and disheveled from sleep. “I didn’t see you there. Good morning.” The hem of her camisole had ridden up, exposing her stomach, and she tried to be inconspicuous in tugging it back down. Hopefully Isabel didn’t think she was a total slob. “Do you still want to walk to the park? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” They’d settled on going in the morning, but Isabel probably had an earlier definition ofmorning.

Isabel looked down at the book in her lap. “It’s fine. I’m ready when you are. Take your time.”

Dressed, with some coffee in her, Mira set out with Isabel. The air was crisp, the sky a gorgeous clear blue. Isabel was wearing her leather jacket and moving with the same quiet self-assurance as on the night they’d met.

The memory of being wrapped up in that jacket had lingered with Mira. The weight and warmth of it over her dress, and how safe she’d felt for those few minutes.

Were the two of them friends? Mira didn’t know where they stood. For two people who didn’t talk much, they saw plenty of each other’s lives. A few days ago, she had seen Isabel at four in the morning in nothing but a well-worn T-shirt and boxers, bleary before her coffee, her hair mussed from sleep. It had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Mira had kept replaying the moment in her mind, marveling at how big, tough Isabel could be so exposed and soft.

Mira had feared an awkward, silent walk. She’d had nothing to worry about. Isabel seemed at ease, walking at a leisurely pace, not forcing Mira to work to keep up this time. She pointed out a landmark on every block: the dive bar, the “good” hardware store, the Greek Orthodox church decorated with mosaics. A new apartment building that Isabel had worked on. “Shortest commute I ever had,” she said. They passed an eyebrow threading salon—Mira would have to come back and see if it was any good.

Dry leaves crunched as they walked. The sidewalks were busy: There were joggers, clumps of teenagers, parents pushing strollers, grannies pushing grocery carts. An orange cat casually emerged from a bodega, and Isabel crouched down.

“She’s friendly,” Isabel said, clearly acquainted with the cat, who only had one eye. Mira bent down next to her. Isabel was stroking the cat’s sleek fur, smiling faintly. Mira held her hand out, and the cat investigated and nuzzled Mira’s hand. She was, technically, allergic to cats, but it never stopped her from petting them.

“She’s so sweet,” Mira said, charmed by the cat and even more so by Isabel’s tenderness. Isabel glanced at her, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.

Something about the way Isabel was crouched reminded Mira of a big cat, too: languid, powerful, not entirely domesticated. Dangerous in the right circumstances, like she’d been to Dylan and his friends. Her strong thighs were straining against her jeans—Mira had seen them bare the other night. Before that, she hadn’t thought much about what a decade of physical labor would look like on a woman’s body.

The cat—the small one—strolled back into the bodega. Isabel stood back up in one easy motion, and they continued on their way.

They approached the park. The leaves were blazing red and orange, and the late-autumn sun was bright. Despite the chill, a brave group was having a kids’ birthday party, their banners flapping in the wind. In the distance was the East River, and then the Manhattan skyline.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Mira said. They started down a tree-lined path toward the river, passing joggers and dogs on leashes. “Have you been in this neighborhood for a while?” Isabel had obviously put down roots here. It seemed incongruous with how much she liked being alone.

“I guess so,” Isabel said. “I moved here five years ago, but I’ve been in Queens my whole life.”

So Isabel was a lifelong New Yorker. Isabel was so sparing with information, and it made Mira want to collect every last bit of it and piece it all together. Isabel had lived with her ex in that apartment. Had they both lived there from the start? If they had broken up less than a year ago, they’d lived together for four years.

Mira couldn’t ask about it, but her heart ached for Isabel. And there were other questions that were even more off-limits: Was Isabel heartbroken? Was she seeing anyone new? Did she want to?

The idea of Isabel being tender with someone, anyone, made Mira’s stomach swoop like she was falling. It was too easy to imagine: Isabel taking a woman in her powerful arms, dipping her backward—the other woman would probably be shorter—and kissing her passionately, like a rugged hero in a classic film. What kinds of women did Isabel like? Did she have a type?

A couple was setting up for a picnic in the grass nearby. Mira felt a traitorous stab of longing. Being single was exactly what she needed. Even thinking about being trapped in a relationship again made her throat constrict. But in her two years with Dylan, he’d never done something so simple as laugh with her while trying to spread out a blanket in the park.

They reached the sidewalk along the river. It was windy, and sunlight glittered on the water.

“This is such a lovely neighborhood,” Mira said, meaning it. She hadn’t made any attempt at getting to know where she lived. After all, she would be moving again in a few months, and she was as likely to end up here as anywhere else. But in a fifteen-minute walk, she already felt more at home than she ever had in Dylan’s neighborhood, with its endless boutiques and tourists. “I can see why you moved here. Maybe I’ll try to stay in the area after your lease ends.”

Just one more move. This one, hopefully, would be less stressful than moving from Vivian’s couch, and less traumatic than collecting all her things from Dylan’s apartment while he loomed over her, only barely restraining himself because Vivian was glaring at him with homicidal intent.

“Yeah, me too,” Isabel said. How did Isabel feel about moving out of her home for the last five years? Another question Mira would never know the answer to. “Where’d you live before this?”

Mira told her the neighborhood. “With my ex,” she added.

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