Jane nodded, even though she found their own apartment much cozier. Even the books on the bookshelves had been arranged according to the color of their spine. Kristin fit into the space perfectly. Sheryl stood out a little and, in doing so, gave their home the kind of off-kilter vibe that Jane could appreciate.

“All my doing, of course,” Sheryl joked. “I’m sure Kristin will give you a tour later.” She shot them both a wink.

They sat for drinks and Jane feverishly hoped Sheryl wouldn’t ask her about the lecture until she’d had a glass of wine. Words came more easily then. And if those words offended someone, she felt the sting less.

“Mia told me about the book signing you’re doing next week,” Kristin said as she poured the wine. “That’s really great.”

“It was Mia’s idea. I’m just going with the flow.” Jane couldn’t see Annie’s face, but she was sure it was folded into an incredulous expression at hearing her wife utter those words. Jane was the least go-with-the-flow person on the planet.

Jane took a quick sip, then another. Situations like this made her so uptight, even the notion of a glass of wine, just the comforting feeling of it in her hand, made her more confident.

“Truth be told,” Sheryl said, “I’m not that big on getting books signed, but it will be an excellent occasion to complete my Jane Quinn collection.” She gave a crooked grin. “And get my hands on your new book, of course. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

Oh Christ. Not even the comforting feel of a glass of wine in her hand could keep a blush from creeping from Jane’s neck to her cheeks, even making her earlobes burn. It was all well and good for Annie to say she should learn how to accept a compliment, but not to offer any practical advice on how to do so. Although, in fairness, Annie had offered advice, but getting advice and applying it were two different things.

“Thank you,” Jane said, hating herself a little because saying thank you was really all it took and why did she have to make a problem out of everything? A compliment was hardly the end of the world. On the contrary.

“I’ve had a sneak peek,” Annie said, coming to Jane’s rescue once again. “It’s pretty epic, what with it being the last in the series.”

“Can’t wait,” Sheryl said.

Kristin remained silent. Maybe she didn’t read lesbian fiction. Jane didn’t want to judge, but she looked more like the type who would read some prize-winning, high-brow literary fiction before bed—and enjoy it immensely. She pictured the two of them in bed, reading: Sheryl with a lesbian romance and Kristin with a five-hundred-page hardback of the latest Booker Prize winner.