Page 5 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“Stop saying that.”
“I can’t help it,” Ella said. “I feel like gushing.”
Rachel popped a bite of popcorn and smiled. “Fine. Love you more.” She blew Ella a kiss and they dug in, allowing the evening to fall off of them. Ella leaned back into the cushions, the soft glow of the TV dancing across the room. Her shoulders droppedfor what felt like the first time in weeks. This—this easy rhythm, this quiet understanding was exactly what she’d needed. There was a lot to look forward to, and Ella couldn’t wait to get started. Her new life was here, simply waiting for her to dive in.
Max Wyler was not aboutto let the fatigue that infused every part of her body get in the way of the workout she’d desperately craved all day. Forfeit wasn’t in her DNA. She couldn’t have foreseen that the mediation between her new clients would become as complicated as it had that afternoon. Divorces were never easy, but when one of the parties, the asshole husband in this case, was condescending and manipulating the couple’s assets, it made her job all the more difficult.
She started with a two-mile run on the treadmill, allowing the slight pull of her muscles to distract her from the mental stress she still carried from the late-afternoon session. She’d always been levelheaded and capable of zeroing in on the big picture, which is why her transition from family law attorney to divorce mediator had been such a natural one. Days like today, though, had her reaching for a release. Sex, exercise, or food usually did the trick. Today, she’d chosen the least complicated path. She kicked her own ass in a rotation of cardio and strength training, finishing with fifteen minutes of self-directed yoga to return to a more peaceful stasis.
By the time she rolled her mat and wiped down her equipment, the tension in her shoulders had finally started to loosen. She gave herself a moment, then made her way to the locker room, where the real reward waited.
She paid extra for her gym membership for perks like private, spacious showers, soft lighting in the locker room, ahydrotherapy pool, and fancy toiletries for the taking. She wasn’t rich herself, but her clients certainly were, and that allowed her to live a comfortable existence, albeit with a few splurges here and there.
“Maxine Wyler, where exactly have you been?” Amanda Jimenez leaned her back against the counter, where Max was brushing out her now-wet, dark hair. Amanda had chosen to wear only a towel for their conversation, which was so very Amanda-like. Not that Max minded the view. Amanda was blessed in the boob department and flaunted the gift generously. She liked to flirt, but always respected Max’s boundaries, which made their friendship easy.
Max offered a brief wince. “Thirteen-hour days have a way of cancelling my gym plans.”
“That, yes. But I haven’t seen you out either. And I’ve looked. I’ve missed you holding those smoky drinks you like.” She added a sexy pout, and if Max wasn’t mistaken, she’d also just shoved her breasts about a foot higher than they’d been even a mere moment ago.
“Oh, the smoked old-fashioned at Dexter’s Pub. I miss them, too. What’s new out there?” It was Max’s way of checking in on the nightly scene she’d been out of for the past couple of months. This city had relatively decent bar options for queer women, with about three locations where people tended to gather. But the community was circular in nature, which made Max grow wary. Everyone seemed to know everyone, which made dating kind of like threading a needle. You had to be delicate in who you flirted with or took home for the night, because it was, in all likelihood, going to upset somebody else. She’d been spending more time in DC these days for that very reason. After her last relationship, which had been tumultuous to say the least, casual definitely felt like the way to go. Less drama. Love seemed like amythical concept these days, and that stance was only reinforced by the dissolving relationships she handled daily at the office.
“What’s new? Let’s see …” Amanda paused. “Teresa Rowe is engaged. Ivy just graduated from bartending school. Melinda is done with sex until politics turns around.”
“Lies.”
“Right? Surely, there’s something else she can do to fight back. Can you imagine never taking your clothes off and pressing your body to another woman’s again?”
“Excuse me,” an older woman said, reaching between them for a sample bottle of moisturizer.
“You’re going to love that,” Amanda told her in a soothing voice. “Your skin will never feel so soft. Use it generously.”
“Oh, I will. And now I’ll leave you two to your naked pressing.”
Max had to smile. “Sorry about that,” she said after the woman.
“No need. I was frisky once or twice. Still am on occasion.” She touched her hairdo, held up her moisturizer, and slowly sashayed her way back to her locker.
Max decided to be just like that woman one day, not easily offended and dancing her way from one spot to the next. Until then, she had about eighteen things on her to-do list, which started with surviving her grandmother’s visit to the States, scheduled for less than twenty-four hours from now. She came from a Filipino family on her mother’s side, steeped in conservative values that didn’t always line up with her own trajectory. That meant she would bite her tongue and keep the peace until the family dinner she was scheduled to attend was in her rearview.
“What unhappy thought just ruined your serenity?” Amanda asked. “Your whole demeanor changed. I hate it.”
“Do you have a good relationship with your parents?” Max asked, squinting at Amanda through the mirror. They’d known each other for years. Amanda was a handful, but a familiar one. Max could be herself.
“No. My father split when I was seven, and my mother and I are the same person, so you can imagine how that goes.” She slid a strand of short brown hair behind her ear. It was just long enough to fit. “Why? Are yours awesome? You seem well-adjusted and emotionally available.”
Max laughed. “If I do, it probably wasn’t nurture.”
“Ouch. What’s going on there?”
“Just a family dinner. No big deal, except expectations for perfection will be high. That was always the case in my house. No screwups. Ever.”
“Oh. Want some company?”
“I do, actually. But I’m afraid I don’t have choosing rights. My mother would probably die if I brought a woman to my grandmother’s dinner.” She added a depressed laugh. “I’ve been out for years, but she likes to live in delusion that it’s all just a passing phase.”
“See, I’ve met you, and it’s not.” Amanda adjusted her towel, as if she had abandoned the seduction for the moment. It’d be back. It always was with Amanda. They were friends who’d shared a night once upon a long time ago, but Max couldn’t imagine more. They weren’t a match.
“Thanks for getting that.” Max leaned close to the mirror and fluffed her hair, now mostly dry from the shower.
