Faced with Robin like that, Micky knew exactly why she was to be avoided. All the images she’d been trying not to succumb to came rushing back. This, however, didn’t mean that Micky wasn’t happy to see Robin. Her heart was already doing that crazy pitter-patter thing again, and even her skin seemed to be reacting to Robin’s sudden presence, the way it seemed to light on fire under Robin’s blue gaze.
“I might have been a bit too harsh and principled,” Robin said as soon as they’d sat down in the farthest corner of The Pink Bean. “I didn’t mean to push you away like that.”
Robin was dressed in work attire, her fitted blouse clinging to her tight abdomen. Glancing at it, Micky realized that, if presented with the choice, she wanted the exact opposite of what Robin had proposed. One thing was for sure, however: she could not just be friends with Robin. It was out of the question.
“I’ve met someone,” she blurted out. “Another woman.” Oh Christ. Her brain was really not operating at its best. Micky blamed this entirely on Robin’s scrumptious presence.
Robin cocked her head and looked at Micky intently. “You have? That’s great.”
Why had she even said that? To make Robin jealous? It wasn’t a lie. Micky had met Martha—could even go on a date with her this weekend if she felt so inclined—but what she was conveying to Robin in no way matched how she felt about any of it. Because, come to think of it, and however much she wanted to pick Martha’s brain for coming-out-later-in-life information, Micky would much rather spend any given evening with Robin than with Martha.
“Well, I mean, it’s early days…” she stammered.
“I mean it, Micky. That’s great. This will make it so much easier for us to be just friends.” Robin made it sound as though all her dreams of friendship had just come true. Why was she so hell-bent on cultivating this friendship with Micky, anyway? Robin was the kind of person who could go to any bar on her own, sit there nursing a drink—even a ridiculous wet cappuccino—for ten minutes, and attract a crowd of strangers around her who would leave the venue eager to become her friend.
When Micky didn’t say anything, Robin inquired further. “Tell me about this mystery woman.” She quirked up her eyebrows and painted a hopeful smile on her face. “I have a few minutes before I have to leave for work.”
In times of acute stress like this, Micky’s go-to question had, over the years, become: what would Amber do? Of course, someone like Amber would never find herself in a situation like this, concocted of half-truths and un-communicated desires, but… what if she did? The reason Micky used Amber as a moral compass was because Amber made a point of always telling the absolute truth—except for that one time she didn’t tell Micky about Darren questioning her sexuality.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone who was so eager to tell me about the woman she just met,” Robin said. “What’s wrong?”
Micky sighed. The adrenalin rush of being faced with Robin was wearing off, making way for deflation. “I only just met her yesterday. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t even know why I did.”
“Why?” Robin looked at her the way, Micky guessed, she would at a life-long friend who was talking about her love life.
“Why?” Micky shuffled in her seat. “You can’t come in here and pretend we’re friends like that. It doesn’t work that way.”
“You’re the one who told me about the other woman. I just presumed you wanted to talk about her.”
Micky should just say the words that would make all of this much easier, but she couldn’t bear to let them roll off her tongue. You and I can’t be friends. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s all been a bit much,” she said instead—which was nothing but the truth.
“But you did meet someone?” Robin’s tone was gentle. Maybe she was just curious—maybe she was even curious for the reason Micky wanted her to be.
“I did. Her name is Martha. She’s a colleague of Sheryl’s, Kristin’s wife.”
“And you want to see her again?” No matter how gentle her tone, Robin really wasn’t letting it go.
“We’ll see. Either way, I have the kids this weekend.”
“So no chance of us doing anything together over the weekend?”
Micky knitted her brows together. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“We’re just friends, remember?” Robin drank from her coffee but kept her eyes glued to Micky’s. Did she even know she was giving a whole host of mixed signals?