“And now I have to decide whether to stay awake or go back to sleep,” Miriam said, lightbulbs going off inside her.

“Can you? Go back to sleep? What did Rumi say? You must ask for what you want. Don’t go back to sleep.”

“Noelle Northwood, did you just quote Rumi to me?” Miriam was going to swoon. Actually, literally swoon.

“I’m wide, I contain multitudes.” Noelle shrugged, her face smug.

“Rumi and Whitman? Show-off.” Miriam was grinning, and she’d been painting, and her heart was flying. Noelle was right. She didn’t know if she could ever go back to sleep.

Noelle’s expression sobered. “Hey, now that we’re square, can I ask you a totally inappropriate question that’s none of my business?”

“Ah, the Cass Carrigan special. Sure,” Miriam nodded, wondering what Noelle might want to know about her.

“What is the deal with your fiancée? You never talk about her, even as it relates to moving here. Wouldn’t you both be pretty heartbroken?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Miriam started, trying to decide how specific to get. “We get along well, and we each have things the other needs. She needs a society wife, and I need financial stability. We keep each other company and her family leaves her alone about getting married. We’re, I don’t know, friends with benefits, but some of the benefits are tax-deductible. We’re not in love. We never have been.”

“Are you aromantic?” Noelle asked. “Because that sounds like a great marriage for a lot of aro people I know. Sex, friendship, shared bills, no chance of love.”

Miriam shook her head. “No. And neither is Tara, I don’t think. If we were, it might have been a wonderful queer platonic partnership. But our motives weren’t that healthy. We both thought if we were already together, we wouldn’t have to risk the messiness and vulnerability of falling in love. Neither of us really goes in for the unpredictable.”

“That sounds like something Cass would have called hogwash, right before doing something to make your life super unpredictable.”

“Oh, like leaving me one quarter of her business?” Miriam laughed. “Yeah. She wasn’t a fan.”

“She was such a meddler.” Noelle shook her head, smiling ruefully. “Alright, I’ll leave you to painting. I’m going to go cut down some trees. Let me know if you want to come use the chain saw. I find it very meditative when I’m having trouble with a decision.”

That offer was both the nicest part of Noelle’s apology and strangely hot. Miriam gave an awkward thumbs-up and turned quickly back to the wall before Noelle could read her expression. Some part of her had hoped, against all rationality, that Noelle would ask her to stay. Instead she’d told her to decide for herself.