Helen and Veronica looked at each other knowingly, and Greta got the distinct sense this was a conversation they’d had before.

“This is a thing, huh?” she said.

“Oh, honey. This is a thing,” Helen said, and Carys and Veronica nodded meaningfully.

“Do you not have queer friends or something?” Veronica asked.

“No, I do.”

Greta thought of Ash first. Then realized that most of the queer friends she’d made in college she only texted with on rare occasions. They’d lost touch because most of them hadn’t stuck around Maine after graduation. Or if they had, they’d stayed in Portland and rarely left.

“Well, maybe not that many,” she revised.

They sipped their drinks, and Veronica and Helen started talking about a mutual friend whom Helen had seen the other day and had an update on.

Carys turned to Greta. “Would you really move here?”

In the (admittedly short) time Greta had spent with Carys, she’d always seemed confident and breezy. But a note of vulnerability crept into her voice now. Her eyes looked uncertain but hopeful. Heat flushed through Greta. Had Carys been playing it cool only because Greta was leaving soon? Had Greta’s concerns that she was rushing into things by imagining moving here been unfounded?

Greta twined her fingers through Carys’. “I really like it here. And…um…” Her heart started racing and she could feel heat move from her chest to her neck. “Like, no pressure, obviously, but I really like you, and…”

Carys smiled, showing her overlapping front teeth that Greta loved. “I really like you too, Greta.”

The flush spread up to Greta’s cheeks, and she ducked her head. “I’d have to find a job and a place to live and…move… I don’t know. It’s a lot. But maybe?”

Carys nodded, smile dimming a touch. “Well, if you start really thinking about it, let me know. I’ll get on the queer phone tree and find you something.”

“There’s a queer phone tree here? That’s amazing!”

Helen, Veronica, and Carys laughed.

“It’s not really a thing. It just feels like it is,” Carys clarified. “This is a small-ass town.”

Veronica and Helen nodded.

Greta looked around at the sprawling city, the new friends she’d made, the woman she was quickly falling for.

“It feels pretty damn big to me.”

Chapter 13

Truman

Truman stood under the hot water and cursed his existence. Well, wine’s existence.

“Stop buying wine and there won’t be wine to drink,” he told himself logically. But the words hurt his head, so he decided not talking was best for the moment.

In fact, after several days of nonmiserable having a purpose that had interrupted his original plan of sulking all alone, he was right back where he started. He was toweling off and contemplating simply crawling back into bed and continuing his interrupted self-pity when his phone chimed.