Page 18 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

She perked up, looking at me. “Ryan? She stayed the night?”

“Mm-hm. Apparently things didn’t go well with the breakup conversation, and she spent the night here instead. I was making her breakfast before the hobo down the street barged in.”

“I am not a hobo!” she laughed, hands on her hips. “Honestly, I wonder why I’m even friends with you. Aside from the pizza oven.”

“And my irresistible charm.”

“I didn’t say that.” She dropped into a seat at the kitchen table, leaning in, folding her arms on the wood surface. “So, how’d it go? She doing okay?”

“Doing as well as can be… she’s shaken up, understandably, but she seems to be moving into thefuck that guyphase pretty readily, which is a sign of good progress.”

She relaxed. “That’s a relief… I wouldn’t be able to blame her if she hadn’t.”

No doubt it was doubly loaded for Allison, who wanted to believe a person could live after being cheated on. She’d made a commitment to tell that girl about the girlfriend cheating, and although I could see it in her eyes that she hadn’t yet, I believed her. She was a good kid—always got around to the right thing in the end.

Even if I wasn’t sure she’d ever get a girlfriend, at the rate she was going. Girl saw one pretty woman who might have been queer and locked up, never managing a word.

“She’s going rock-climbing with me, too,” I said, taking a pitcher of milk from the microwave and frothing it, and I could barely hear Allison’s voice over the sound of it.

“What? Did you bully her into it too, or did you finally find the rock-climbing partner of your dreams?”

“The former. She’s never done it before.”

“Oh, nice. I want to go at the same time she’s going so that I’m not the most clueless one there. So, what? Is she gay too? You’re not usually inviting a girl so readily unless she’s gay and you think she’s cute.”

“For god’s sake, Allison, I’m not hitting on Ryan,” I said, turning off the frother and pouring the milk into three mugs. “As for whether she’s gay… I didn’t ask,” I said, which was technically true. She hadn’t seemed quite ready to talk about whatever she was, beyond sidling crabwise into saying she wasn’t straight—she struck me as the type who was repressed and got embarrassed talking about sexuality, but from the nervous way she’d brought it up, she wanted me to know she was queer. Not in that she was flirting with me, I imagined, but in that she knew I was queer and wanted to share that she was with somebody.

Allison squinted at me. “You’re thinking really deeply about it.”

“I’m trying to remember when you work today,” I lied. “Didn’t you say it was eight? You’re going to be late.”

“I start at noon today.”

“Oh. I’m probably thinking of some other front desk girl I like better.”

“Okay, rude,” she laughed as I slid the mugs onto the table, and right on time, because that was when the bathroom door opened, and I heard Ryan’s footsteps padding softly down the hall before she spoke.

“Hi, Allison,” she said, coming around the corner, wearing the shirt and pants she’d had on yesterday, her hair damp over her shoulders. “Am I ever glad to not be the only one harassing Brooklyn for food right now.”

Allison sat up taller. “Oh my god, not you too. I came here because I forgot my name badge!”

Ryan smiled flawlessly at Allison’s coffee and back at her. “That doesn’t look much like a name badge, now, does it?”

Allison rolled her eyes, giving me a tired smile. “You found someone as bad as you are…”

“Did you have a nice shower?” I laughed, pulling out a seat for Ryan, and she sat gracefully, clearly a little more with it now after some sleep and a shower.

“It was lovely. The bathroom is so pretty here.”

“Ah, thanks. I did the tiling and everything myself.”

Allison scrunched up her face at Ryan. “Don’t compliment her too much… she already has too much of an ego.”

Ryan cupped her coffee in both hands, relaxing in the chair. “I’m nothing if not an enabler. It’s the least I can do to thank her for this.”

Allison softened. “You feeling all right…?”

Ryan shrugged as I turned back to the oven, pulling out the food, and I heard her voice quietly. “I’m feeling… whatever I’m feeling. It’s a strange sensation, honestly. I’m not sure how to put it into words. Not sad, not angry, just… detached.”

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