Page 126 of The Grief We Hold

She at least has the good sense not to laugh. “Vi Graydon is a well-respected motorcycle club romance author. I thought you could give us your opinion on whether it was a factually accurate representation is all.”

I glance at Dawn and Sam, who can barely hide their grins. “I feel like you guys are setting me up.”

Dawn laughs as she shakes her head. “Fortune’s Losshas been on our list to read for ages, just seems like now is the right time to read it.”

I can’t help but chuckle. This is what having friends actually feels like. With Marco’s friends’ wives, it was pretentious. Snobbish wine choices mixed with fancy vacation stories. But with our book club, everything is down to earth and real. We’ve eaten cookies, drank cheap wine out of plastic cups, and enjoyed a good discussion about the perception of dark romance after a so-called “leading feminist” claimed it perpetuates the myth that women enjoy being assaulted.

Dawn asserted it was fantasy and was clearly not what women wanted in real life. Sam felt the nuance was boundaries and consent. Quinn said the critic didn’t understand the difference between consent, consensual nonconsent, and nonconsent.

Meanwhile, I wondered how most of it would feel if Wraith and I engaged in a little consensual nonconsent of our own.

I feel like I’ll never be the same after what happened in the woods. My whole world was beige before. An unhappy marriage. A house that felt nothing like a home. A sex life that was dreary, a chore, unwanted.

Now everything feels breathtakingly expansive and colorful.

“Come on,” Sam says, shaking me from my thoughts. “It’s not life imitating art. It’s escapism. Let us live vicariously through you and your boyfriend.”

My cheeks heat at the termboyfriend. It seems like such an utterly underwhelming word to describe what Wraith is fast becoming to me. “Fine. We can read the book.” I’m curious to see if I can learn something more about the world I’ve swerved into.

The three of them cheer. “I expect notes in the margins,” Quinn says.

“I will neither confirm nor deny.” I take a sip of the cold, crisp Sauvignon Blanc Dawn provided. “But I will say that riding on the back of a motorcycle is addictive.”

Quinn flops back in her chair. “Man, if a guy put me on the back of his motorcycle, I’d tell him to keep riding forever with me on it.”

Dawn offers me the plate with cookies and I take another. “It’s nice of Wraith to have Fen tonight.”

I smile. “Yeah, he’s good with him. It’s weird—I thought my ex-husband was a safe bet. Financially stable, wore a suit every day, etc. All the trappings of being a good man, but with a rottensoul. And then there’s Wraith. A biker. If you passed judgement based purely on that, you’d miss how good a human being he is.”

Sam pours out the rest of the wine. “Which is why we should stick with Vi Graydon’s book and let a fictitious biker take me away.”

As we start to finish up, I message Wraith to tell him I’ll be leaving soon. He’s going to pick me up from outside Quinn’s bakery so I can walk her home, while Ember pops over to watch Fen at his place while he does.

Tiny stars look like glittering pinpricks in the blackened sky. “Never really noticed how dark the sky is,” I say, more to myself than anything.

“Welcome to Colorado,” Quinn says. “It’s always pretty on a night like tonight.”

The street is quiet, beyond the rumble of a vehicle moving slowly up the street behind us. I glance over my shoulder and see a nondescript truck.

“Let’s move a little faster to the bakery,” I suggest.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m probably totally overreacting, and we can laugh about this tomorrow.”

Quinn looks back at the truck. “Let’s step it up anyway.”

The truck gets louder as it comes closer. Although there isn’t a lot of traffic on Main Street, it’s not doing anything close to the speed limit.

My heart races, and Quinn grips my arm as we walk faster toward the lit sign for the bakery.

“We can take the side alley down the side of the barbers,” Quinn says.

“I’m not sure side alleys are smart.”

“It leads behind the bakery. The truck can’t follow.”

“Wait,” I say. I hear the roar of a motorbike coming towards us, then almost faint in relief when I see it’s Wraith.

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