Page 87 of Gin and Bear It

“For what?” I ask.

“For just going along with how I’ve set things up. And filling in the gaps with the stuff I hate doing, like cooking and cleaning up.” She avoids my gaze for a moment. “It takes a lot of weight off my shoulders. I didn’t realize how much I worried about that stuff until you moved in.”

“It’s not a problem, seriously. I’d do it anyway.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.” She glances back at her laptop. “Sorry, I’m probably distracting you.”

The brief pause is just enough for the bass line to fully click for me.

“No, this is perfect,” I say, repositioning my bass on my lap. “You’re just what I needed to make something click.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

JADA

If Ash and I went to my grad program friend Maribel’s party months ago when we first got married, I’d be stressed out beyond belief. Every event or party since graduation has been an elaborate one-up session, and I’m never sure if I’m measuring up.

But now I actually feel confident for once. We’re planning the opening night of the bar and the hotel is doing well. I don’t care if other people are working at fancier hotels or consulting with major chains. I love what I’m doing, and I’m absolutely going to brag a little bit.

Plus, Ash is with me. Every time we’re together, I’m at ease in a way I can’t clearly articulate. I know I’m not worried about us being found out anymore, so that helps. But it goes beyond that, like I’ve found a secret well of peace in my brain.

I’ve finally managed to compartmentalize our relationship right now from the reality that we’re married, too. I don’t have to think about making an immediate decision on what we are, because things are good. It doesn’t have to be all that complicated.

Maribel still lives in Crescent Hill in a house a few miles from campus, in an old neighborhood where several professors live. Her husband inherited it from his parents, who both worked for the university. Her front door is open, music and chatter streaming from the house.

Ash takes my hand as we walk up the front steps, and I thread my fingers in his.

Maribel is just inside the front door. She’s one of those people who’s always dressed to impress, even when it seems like she should be too tired to be put together. I once saw her at the library in a matching athleisure set and makeup during finals a few years back and now I’m convinced she’s superhuman. She beams at me, pulling me into a hug. Her perfume is elegant but just a touch too much.

“Jada! It’s so good to see you! I didn’t think you’d show!” She pauses, her smile tight for a second. “Sorry, that sounded so terrible. It’s just that you’ve been a bit of a stranger. But I’m guessing that’s because you met your husband. Hello, I’m Maribel!”

“I’m Ash.” Ash shakes her hand. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course.” Her eyes scan over Ash for a moment, before she gestures to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. We have drinks and refreshments in the kitchen. The restroom is down the hall past the library.”

Another guest, someone I vaguely recognize, steps in behind us and Maribel’s attention shifts to them. We step farther into the house before I stop dead in my tracks after spotting a familiar head of dark hair. Fuck.

“Ah, shit.” I clutch Ash’s arm. “Be cool, my ex is here. Troy.”

“Troy? The one who lied to your grandparents about you two being together?” He looks at me, a confused frown on his face. “You didn’t warn me about him.”

“Because I assumed he was still in Europe for work,” I say under my breath, slowly taking a step back as if fast movements would alert him to our presence.

I genuinely haven’t thought about Troy since a little after the wedding, not even to curse him for getting me into this situation. He wasn’t even a blip on my mental radar, which is new for me. Usually something reminds me of him—mostly seeing other couples, then remembering how single I am. Or was. Or sort of am, now.

I reamed him out over the phone for lying to my grandmother, so I assumed that I’d still carry over that rage seeing him in person. But mostly, I feel almost nothing besides annoyance that I have to at least say hello.

Of course, Troy spots us and nods in my direction. He always has a smile in his eyes, but I catch an almost imperceptible frown between his dark brows.

“Jada!” Troy calls, waving. Some people between us move and I see he’s with another woman.

A rush of relief is quickly followed by anxiety. I’m glad he’s seeing someone else, but who is she?

I take in more of her details as the couple approaches us. She’s also Black, but doesn’t look anything like me, thank god. If he’d upgraded to a woman who looked like me, but better, I’d be a little annoyed. When we finally broke up for good, I got the sense that he wanted me, but all the bad parts tweaked—a bit quieter in how I interacted with people, body a bit tighter but still just as curvy, more “on top of it.”

“How are you?” Troy asks, going for a hug. He catches Ash’s gaze and quickly shifts it to a side hug. “It’s been a long time. This is my fiancée, Ally.”

“Oh, fiancée?” I blurt, as if I’m not technically married. “Uh, congrats.”