JENNIE

"The mayor is here to see you."

April calls me instead of popping in because my door is locked. I hear the handle jiggle a few times and a rapid knock.

"Jennie, I'd like to have a word with you. Please," Sterling calls through the door.

He's the last person I want to see. Nayeon begged me to take a sick day, and I promised her I would be safer at the courthouse.

The place is swarming with law-enforcement officers and lawyers.

After fighting with me about whether she should stay or go, she reluctantly left late last night. Lisa left early Sunday after a quick breakfast and the promise to check in with me, because that's what friends do. She texted me twice during the day and once before bed.

I hate the shift in our relationship.

"Jennie?" The knocking continues.

When I walked in this morning wearing large sunglasses, nobody questioned me. Heavy makeup helped, but the bruise was starting to turn blue, and it's hard to cover a dark color. Wayne, the security guard who always had a smile for me every morning, wanted to say something but held his tongue. He was gentle when he handed me my briefcase, and his voice was softer as he wished me a great day. News traveled fast. April greeted me with a latte and an "oh, my God," then clamped her mouth shut and kept pulling her gaze away. At least she was trying hard not to stare.

"Now is not a good time, Sterling," I call.

"We need to talk sooner than later."

I open the door, and even though he steps forward, I don't let him in. He cringes when his eyes meet mine and he sees the bruise.

"Please. We need to have a conversation."

I know this isn't a good idea, but I also know he's not going to leave my office. If I call security, it will create an even bigger scene.

I'm not physically afraid of him, so I reluctantly let him in. "Hold my calls, April, and stay close." She nods.

He waits until I shut the door. "I'm so sorry you were assaulted Saturday night. I heard about it after I left. Are you okay?"

I wait for him to finish, but that's all he gives me. "I don't like bruises, and I don't like to be bullied by people you know."

He looks surprised. "What?"

"Cut the shit. Bruno Raymond, the guy who assaulted me. I know that you know him. I saw the two of you arguing before you left."

His eyes dart up and down several times as though he's wrestling with something. He sits down without asking and drops his head into his hands. "Look. I can't get into anything with you, but that was never supposed to happen."

I sit safely behind my desk. "Sterling, you shouldn't be here. You coming to my office during an ongoing investigation is sending up so many red flags. You need to leave. If you need help, we can get somebody here to help you."

"It's my problem. I'm handling it."

"Yes, but at my expense." My voice is clipped. "And I don't like that. Who is that guy to you? And why were you arguing about Seamus Williams?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. "I think you should go. The police will handle this matter."

He stands, puts his hands on his hips, and stares at me. "I suppose you're right. Whatever happens, just remember that I never wanted for you to get hurt. I like you, Jennie. I think you're going to do great things for our city."

I'm still staring at the door after he leaves. I have no idea what that was about, but I have a feeling it's just the beginning of something career-ending for him.

L: Daily check-in. How are you doing?

I smile when Lisa's message pops up. J: It's been a day, but I'm okay. How are you?

L: Worried about you. Glad you're okay.

J: I'm staying hidden in my office, but at least I'm getting a lot of work done.

I don't tell her about Sterling's visit because I don't want to upset her. She and Nayeon had a lengthy discussion about Sterling while I was sleeping. Apparently neither one is a fan.

L: Let me know if you need anything.

J: Thanks.

L: Maybe I can bring over dinner this week.

I'm too vulnerable for her right now. Emotions I've kept bottled up for years are at the surface, and I'm afraid I'd slip up. And sex, even though I'm desperate for it, is a bad idea. We need space.

J: This is a bad week for me. And it's probably not a good idea while there's an investigation.

L: I understand.

Then silence. I hate myself right now. She's only being kind like a friend would be, but I'm so obsessed with how the world would see our relationship that I can't accept what she's offering.

I brush all personal thoughts from my mind and focus on work, which is the only thing holding me together, but even that's threatening to shatter.

They tell me to stay close to home until the investigation is over. After three weeks of only going to work and having food and groceries delivered, I'm done. The investigation has stalled, and I can't wait anymore. I need to get out. I want interaction. I haven't been to a bar in over a month, and I miss Midtown Lounge's lemon drop martinis. It's a high-end bar where you almost pay rent for a barstool, but it keeps the younger partygoers at bay. I look good since the bruise is gone. I slip into a long-sleeved black dress, my black strappy heels, and style my hair up. It's getting too long, so I make a note to have it cut next week.

Nayeon isn't happy that I'm going out, so I share my location and promise to call when I'm safe at home. I know it's a little risky, but honestly, I just want to be alone and drink a delicious martini and people-watch. I'm tired of talking to people this week. I shake out the stress in my shoulders when I walk into the bar. A pianist is playing a song that sounds familiar, but I can't remember the title. For the first time in a month, I feel normal. The faces in the bar look happy and fresh. It's almost midnight and a weeknight. I expected fewer people.

"Aren't the lemon drops the best?" A beautiful woman points to the empty chair at my table. I nod, and she sits. She's wearing black pants, a flattering cream-colored cashmere sweater, and a wedding ring. Interesting.

"They are my favorite drink here," I say.

"Can I buy you another one?"

"Will your wife mind?" I don't know why I'm sabotaging a possible hookup. I can't remember my last orgasm that wasn't self-administered. Okay, I do, but I'm trying to push it from my mind.

She tilts her head and smiles. "My wife and I have an understanding."

It amazes me how lesbians find me so quickly. "How did you know?"

She points to the three different men I turned down the first fifteen minutes I was here. "So, I figured I'd try."

"You figured correctly," I say.

She flags over a waitress and smoothly orders two more drinks.

"I'm Jules. Jules Perez."

"I'm Jennie." I don't offer my last name. "It's nice to meet you, Jules. What brings you out tonight?"

Her dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders and down her back. "I just felt like getting out, you know?"

"I definitely know exactly what you mean." She couldn't possibly know how important tonight is to me. This is the way my life was and should be again.

"Tell me about yourself." She leans back in her chair and relaxes as though settling in for a long chat.

"Work keeps me pretty busy. This is the first time I've been out in a month," I say.

"Life's about to get crazy, with the holidays right around the corner."

She's confident, like Lisa, but more relaxed. Lisa was always tense, as if ready to pounce when we were together. Jules seems like the kind of person who'd shrug if I turned her down and move on to the next woman.

"Do you ever attend the Plaza Lighting?" she asks.

"I used to live on the Plaza, and I never missed it. But I moved, so now it's more of a chore to get down there. I don't know if I'm going this year." More like, if somebody is still trying to hurt me, I'll pass.

"What do you do?"

"Nothing special. Just something that keeps me busy," I say.

She nods. She's not here for my background. She's here for a drink and some company.

"I get it. My family owns a restaurant. I work more than I should, so it's nice to get out and away from the pressure." She leans forward after finishing her drink and runs her fingertip along the back of my hand. I don't pull away. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I'd like to finish this drink first." My blood flows a little faster at the look she gives me, and I like the direction my night is turning.

"Take your time," she says. She orders a water when I show that I'm not gulping down my drink.

"The mayor's flipping on the lights this year," she says.

Apparently, she's going to keep talking about the lighting ceremony. It's so hard to not roll my eyes at her. Thousands of people cheering on somebody who's in the middle of an investigation surrounding his corrupt dealings. I'm surprised the press hasn't uncovered it by now. "It's usually the mayor or the hometown quarterback or somebody who's done something above average." I sound bitchy even to myself. I try again. "It's nice that it's not too cold most of the time."

"My family fixes a huge meal at the restaurant on Thanksgiving, and then we bundle up and head down with hot chocolate."

"That sounds nice." It does. I'm somewhat jealous that she has a big family and plans for the holidays. I'm going to stay in, watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, and review case notes. At least I have solid plans for Christmas. My parents are coming into town from Boston to spend a long weekend with me. My holidays are always lukewarm at best. I take the last sip of my martini and set the glass between us. My meaning is clear.

"Shall we?" she asks.

I slip on my coat and follow her out, not really knowing the plan. I frown at the soft flakes that have started to fall. No accumulation expected, but the first flakes always sadden me. That means more clothes, and I don't like to wear layers. The robe is restrictive enough.

"I was thinking I could show you our restaurant," she says.

"Okay. We can try it." I've had sex in a kitchen but never a restaurant. "I can follow you there. I'm parked across the street."

"I'm right here." She points to a black Tahoe.

I smile because that's always an option for a hookup. When was the last time I made out in a car? "Lead the way."

She waits for me to turn around and slip into traffic behind her.

The restaurant is less than ten minutes away. I pull into the empty lot and park beside her. It's on the west side of downtown in an up-and-coming neighborhood that was once run-down.

"Your restaurant looks adorable," I say. This is clearly a restaurant that serves Mexican food, based on the neon sign of a cactus wearing a sombrero. It's off at the moment but no doubt is bright when plugged in. She unlocks the door and flips on the lights.

"And it's very cozy inside."

She slides her hand down my arm and holds my hand as she gives me the tour. When we hit the back office, she turns and kisses me. She has gentle lips and kisses me softly. It's not what I want, so I pull her close and deepen the kiss. She moans in approval and pushes my coat off my shoulders.

"Are there cameras in here?" I ask.

"No. This is the only place without any. Look."

She points to the security system on the computer screens.

She's right. I see four cameras in the dining area, one in the kitchen, one in the hall, one in the bar, but nothing in the office. I look around the room at a love seat, two chairs, and a desk covered with piles of paperwork. A honeysuckle plug-in air freshener tries to cover the smell of grease, and the result isn't pleasant.

"Okay? No cameras. Not here," she says.

"I believe you." I drape my coat over the chair and sit on the love seat. She wastes no time straddling me. I put my hands on her hips, and she cups my face before kissing me. It doesn't take long before she crawls off me and drops to the floor between my legs.

Guilt washes over me, and I stop her from moving her hands up my thighs. "Give me just a minute."

"I'm going too fast, aren't I?"

I have an incredible urge to get out of there, but I don't want to be rude. I came here with every intention of having sex, but now I can't go through with it. She leans forward and kisses me. I stop myself from pulling away. The problem is me, not her. I touch her face and smile.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for this. I have to go."

She looks surprised but covers her reaction. "Did I do something wrong?"

I hold her hands. "No. You did everything right. I'm sorry."

Her lips briefly touch mine. "I'm sorry, too. Come on. Let's get you out of here."

I stop her. "Thank you for understanding."

She walks me out and ensures I get into my car. "Do you know how to get out of here?"

"I do. Thank you again. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I still had fun with a beautiful woman. Have a great holiday, and come by anytime."

The trip to my loft is quick, with hardly any traffic and the lights in my favor. The tears I brush away have to be stress-related, because I don't get emotional about sex. It's to be enjoyed by both or all parties, but I've been inundated with so much change the last four months. That has to be the reason. When I'm safely inside my loft, I text Nayeon.

J: 'm home.

N: Thank God. How was your first night out?

I take off my clothes and slip into pajamas. It's almost one thirty. Why do I insist on going out nights where I have to get up early the next day?

J: So I went back to this woman's restaurant, and something weird happened.

N: OMG!

Nayeon FaceTimes me. "Tell me everything. Were you followed?

God damn it. I knew you shouldn't have gone out."

"No. Nothing like that. I went to Midtown Lounge and this beautiful woman picked me up and we went back to her restaurant."

"Wait. You had sex in a restaurant?"

"No. I mean the intent was there, but I didn't follow through. What are you doing? Can you talk right now? It's late even for you."

"I'm at my place for once. I spend too much time at Orlando's. I feel like my own apartment is an escape." She doesn't sound upset.

"How are things going? Pretty well, I guess."

"We've been talking about moving in together."

"Oh. That's exciting, right?"

She shrugs. "I guess. I just don't know. What if we fail, and I've given up my nice apartment for no reason?"

"Then you move into a different one. Orlando's perfect for you. As long as you can still get away a few times a year, then I say live where you want, and if you want to live with him, then do it. He's a really great guy."

She stares at me. I nod. She breaks into a smile.

"You're right. He's perfect. And we all seem to get along. The kids listen to me and give me space when I have to work."

"Perfect. Now let's get back to my issue," I say.

She covers her mouth and gasps. "I'm so sorry. I hijacked the conversation. Okay, you met a girl, and she took you back to her restaurant. What happened after that?"

"We were making out on her couch, and I felt super guilty, like I was doing something wrong. And she was doing everything right.

It was just weird. I stopped her and got out of there," I say.

"Do you think this has to do with Lisa?"

I immediately want to say no, but I can't. I ended it because I was worried that Lisa's feelings were starting to show, but now I'm wondering if I ended it because of mine.