Page 48 of March

“That’s good advice, except she won’t spend time alone with me,” Kelsey said.

“She texted you.”

“She texted all of us. It’s in our group message. You didn’t see it?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t checked that in a while. I was texting with Sophie and writing another blog.”

“She’s cute. You’ll see. I hate her,” Kelsey replied.

Bryce chuckled and said, “I’ll check it later. I’m talking to Sophie tonight.”

“I know. I caught the blog. Sean did, too,” Kelsey revealed. “She texted just me.”

“Oh,” she let out. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve told her not to read them.”

“Like she could skip them, knowing what you’re writing about,” Kelsey noted. “She needs to move on, too, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Bryce said, having nothing else to add.

“I’ll let you go so you can get ready for your chat with Sophie. Are you nervous?”

“Terrified,” she admitted.

“Just remember that night and how it felt, and you’ll be fine,” Kelsey said.

“Yeah.”

They hung up a minute later, and Bryce checked their group chat. The womanwascute. Megan had good taste. Still, responding with anything wasn’t an option because if she reacted with a heart emoji or told Megan that her date was cute, that would hurt Kelsey. This had gotten a little complicated recently. Then, Bryce noticed she had an email notification, which wasn’t strange because she was getting a ton of them, but this was to her professional email account that she reserved for people who were interested in working with her, not just her contact form.

Hello Bryce,

My name is Victoria, and I’m an editor for Women Loving Women magazine. We’re an online publication and a safe queer space for all. We put out a monthly edition on our site, and we post weekly articles as well, which we also link to blogs, pages, and videos we see online that we think are worth featuring.

A friend of mine found your recent blog posts, and we’ve linked them on our site, so it’s likely you’ll get some additional subscribers and visitors to yours, but I was hoping we couldwrite an article about your story. I just read the blog you posted, and it sounds like you’re about to see Sophie in person again. I think this would be a great story for our readers – hopefully, an encouraging one for those who are looking for love – if things work out for you two.

Would you be interested in doing an interview with us? It would be great if we could get one of you, but you and Sophie together would be even better.

If so, I’d love to set something up as quickly as possible. We’d be able to get your story set up in an article soon, and then we could do a follow-up piece later. If you and Sophie end up working out, we could follow up again, maybe in a year or so. It could get you even more subscribers and visibility as well.

Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Victoria

Bryce stared at the email for a while because she hadn’t expected anyone to pick up her story or want to interview her about it. She didn’t know how to respond. Shedidknow that she’d have to talk to Sophie about it first, so she closed the email and decided to kill time before their first phone call by typing up her first food blog in a while. Then, she got a text message.

CHAPTER 17

Sophie hadn’t planned on making a pit stop on the way home from dinner. She’d wanted to get home as soon as possible because she was going to talk to Bryce for the first time. Something told her to stop off at Café Du Monde, though. She didn’t know what that something was, but she knew she was in the mood for beignets. While waiting in line for well over twenty minutes, checking her phone, she thought about calling Bryce, but she wanted to be alone when they talked. It was only after getting her order and sitting down at an empty table alone that Sophie knew what was going on: she was delaying her drive home. She was doing it on purpose. She was too nervous to talk to Bryce, who would be here tomorrow. Bryce would be in New Orleanstomorrow, and Sophie would get to see her after work, but it was all too much.

She finished her first of three beignets and pushed the plate away. She didn’t really want the sugar. She just needed some time to prepare herself for the conversation, and she knew that if she’d gone straight home, she would’ve called Bryce right away. Leaving her unfinished order on the table, she stood and went across the street toward Jackson Square, aimlessly walking around it once before she started around it again without thinking.

“Hello.”

Sophie turned on instinct and noticed a woman sitting at her folding table and chairs, with Tarot cards present.

“Oh. No, thanks,” Sophie replied and gave her a polite wave.

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