No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) (3 page)

“Would I invite you over if I didn’t?” Amber was already headed toward the fridge. As usual, Micky would end up drinking two thirds of the bottle, while Amber gingerly sipped from a glass that didn’t seem to get empty. Amber did have to teach tomorrow, not that she would drink much more on any other evening.

“Kimberly was shamelessly flirting with you,” Micky said once they’d sat down to eat and she’d felt the soothing cold balm of white wine slide down her throat.

“That might be so, but I don’t date students,” Amber replied quickly. She lived by so many rules, Micky sometimes wondered how she got any actual living done.

Micky shook her head. “You meet so many women every single day, some of whom are clearly very interested in you, yet you refuse to enjoy the attention they give you.” Micky was glad to discuss Amber’s lack of love life instead of her own.

“I know most people see it differently, but in my view, it’s unethical.”

“You’re not teaching children. You’re teaching full-grown adults how to, ultimately, bend their legs behind their ears. I really don’t see what’s so unethical about that.”

“First, what I teach might be physical, but I do hope that for most of the people I instruct, the outcome can be felt on a spiritual level as well. Second, my reputation is very important to me. I want to start my own studio soon, and I don’t want potential clients to have any false ideas about me. How I present myself and how I behave need to be aligned.”

Amber was starting to lose Micky, though Micky was desperate to keep the conversation going. She was tired, and this spinach and tofu salad that Amber had served in mason jars and turned upside down in a bowl, wasn’t giving her the comfort she craved from a Friday evening meal, especially after her first official workweek.

“But all you do is teach, hang out in The Pink Bean and juice bars, and make organic salads. How can you expect to meet someone?” Micky held up her hand because she wasn’t finished yet. “And you refuse to go on the internet for a date.”

“I’m glad you brought up the subject,” Amber said, fixing her green stare on Micky. “This is exactly what I wanted to talk to
you
about.”

Micky sighed. “You always do this. You never want to talk about yourself.”

All Amber did was fix Micky with a strong, silent stare—as though waiting for Micky to realize that what she had just said didn’t make sense and to inform Micky she knew what she was up to.

In response, Micky drank some more. The kids were at their dad’s that weekend. Darren had downsized to a much smaller townhouse as well in Lavender Bay. Olivia and Christopher’s school, a new one they’d had to enroll in after the summer holiday amidst major protest and long tantrums—sentiments Micky fully understood and was trying to make up for every day—was, not coincidentally, smack dab in the middle between her and Darren’s new residences.

Micky could drink as much as she wanted tonight. All she had to do was hobble the few hundred feet home, and she could sleep in as long as she wanted tomorrow.

She refocused her attention on Amber. Of course she knew what she wanted to talk about, but Micky didn’t have the wherewithal to devote a lot of her emotional resources to that particular subject. First and foremost, she was a mother, and she wasn’t in the habit of putting herself first like that. The only time she
had
prioritized herself was when she’d asked Darren for a divorce, because, by then, in her view, there really was no other option left. She was still paying for all the consequences of that.

“Ready when you are,” Amber said. “We can talk about me all of next week, if you like.” She painted a smile on her lips.

“What do you want from me?” The wine Micky was knocking back steadily was making her a bit volatile.

“Did you serve anymore wet cappuccinos this week?” Amber asked, ignoring Micky’s tone.

Micky huffed out a chuckle. “If you think she’s so hot, why don’t you ask her out? How do you even know she’s”—before her divorce, Micky had never had any issues saying the word, but it never slipped off her tongue that easily anymore—“a lesbian.”

“I just know. I have the most finely tuned gaydar in Darlinghurst, perhaps in all of Sydney. It’s very hard to put into words, but I just know.”

“Make an effort,” Micky said. Why would Micky let Amber off the hook when she was about to be grilled? Amber sighed. Perhaps Amber felt the way Micky often did when she was trying to get some personal information out of her children. Trying and mostly failing. Micky had to admit it
was
exasperating. She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m being difficult.”

“That’s okay. I never expected this conversation to be easy.” Amber took a tiny sip from her wine. “But you know I’m all about finding your truth and following it. You may think all I care about is nourishing my body with healthy food and spreading the joy and benefits of yoga, but in the end, it’s really all about truth.” Amber clasped her hand to her chest. “About what’s in here.”

Micky and Amber really were the most unlikely of friends. Then again, Amber hadn’t always been like this. Neither had Micky.

“Okay, yes, though that woman annoyed the shit out of me, I found her very attractive. She’s one of those people probably 90 percent of all adults on the planet would find attractive, and she knows it. Big deal,” Micky blurted out.

“It’s not about the wet capp woman, per se, Micky,” Amber said. “I know it’s hard. Even though I’ve been out of the closet for twenty-five years, I know it’s hard to be where you are now.”

“I don’t even know… I’ve never…” Micky stammered. Even though she knew what she felt stir deep inside of her, she always came up empty when she tried to put it into words.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Amber said, “but the way I see it is that you’ve been married to a man for eighteen years and now you’d like to date a woman.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Micky didn’t like the defensive tone of her own voice.

“Is it, really?” Amber’s piercing green eyes scrutinized her face. “When you boil it down to its essence, is it really more complicated than that?”

“Yes.” Micky sighed. “I’m forty-four years old. I have two teenage children. And I’ve never even…” Her words stalled again.

“It doesn’t matter how old you are or how many children you have. This is about you. About finding your true self. Nothing else matters.”

Micky shook her head. Amber wasn’t a mother. She couldn’t understand. “How can I even contemplate the notion without considering what my children will think about it?”

“Don’t you think they want their mom to be happy?”

That question took Micky by surprise. All her life, but especially after the divorce, Micky had poured her energy into trying to make
them
happy, which, in turn, was a great source of happiness for her. But she’d never taken the time to consider what her children actually wanted for her. They most likely wished their mother had stayed with their father. Micky had upended their lives as well.

“I’m pretty sure they’d prefer it over me being unhappy,” Micky admitted.

“For the sake of argument,” Amber continued, “let’s leave Liv and Chris out of it for now. Let’s focus on you. What do
you
want?”

What
did
she want? Darren used to ask her that question often. In the beginning out of genuine interest and once things had started to turn sour between them, with a lot of exasperation in his voice.

“I don’t know.” Micky tried to rely on her standard answer, though that would never fly with Amber.

“I think you do.”

Micky drank again, then said, “It’s just that the concept of… dating a woman is so abstract to me. I might want it quite badly, but I just can’t picture it. I can’t stop thinking about the consequences and about what that would make me.”

Micky witnessed Amber perk up in front of her. She always did that when they reached the crux of a conversation. Amber was the kind of person who drew massive amounts of energy from getting other people to
speak their truth
—though Micky hadn’t quite reached that point yet.

“What do you think it would make you?” Amber asked, elbows on the table, her gaze resting on Micky, making her uncomfortable.

Micky looked at her hands—anything to get away from Amber’s stare. “A woman who has lived a lie for most of her adult life.”

“That’s where I think your perception lets you down, Micky. I’ve known you for so long. I was your bridesmaid when you married Darren, and I know with 100 percent certainty that you loved him. You were crazy about him. Your marriage was never a lie. I do, however, think you have trouble accepting the possibility that now you’re someone else entirely than you were back then.”

“But how can a person change like that?” The crux was about to hit Micky in the head. “You’re still attracted to the same sex as you’ve always been.” It almost came out as an accusation, while it was actually a compliment.

“But everyone is different, and there’s a whole spectrum of sexual attraction out there. One doesn’t have to exclude the other, and I strongly believe that, over time, we all shift a little or a lot. Life is complex. Human beings are complex. Sometimes, trying to analyze it all to death is not the best way forward,” Amber said.

“Have you ever felt your preference shift?” Micky asked, though she wanted to remember to question Amber about what she thought the best way forward actually was.

Amber scrunched her lips together. “Sure. I used to date stuck-up bitches who treated me like dirt, women I wouldn’t even look at twice now. That preference has surely changed.”

“But at least you stayed within the same sex.”

“So.” Amber quirked up her eyebrows. “We can theorize about this all we want—and we will—but you’re going to have to take the plunge sooner rather than later. I truly think you’re ready, and I do believe that I’m the person who knows you best. I know I can be pushy, and I already pushed you to take that job, because I believe it will make you grow as a person, and now I’m pushing you again.”

“You are one pushy woman, Amber.”

“I prefer to see myself as a gentle nudger, but, perhaps, in this case you’re right. When it comes to my best friend, I think I can allow myself some liberties.” Amber smiled broadly.

“How do you suggest I, er, reach the next level?” Truth be told, Micky wouldn’t know what to do without a friend like Amber in this situation.

“Start by being open to the possibility. Just a small change in mindset can have big consequences. People will pick up on that.” Amber’s eyes started sparkling. “Who knows, maybe Miss Wet Capp will even pick up on it? Though she did come across as rather self-absorbed.”

“I do hope I have the good fortune of going on my very first same-sex date with someone a bit nicer.”

“Would you like me to go through my big rolodex of lesbians and set you up?” Amber still had that twinkle in her eyes. “We shouldn’t aim for someone you’re going to fall head-over-heels with for your first. You want to test the waters a little. Confirm your suspicions and have a bit of fun while doing so.”

“I need to sleep on it.”

“Alternatively, you could confide in your new boss. Kristin and Sheryl must know some eligible bachelorettes.”

“You’re going a little too fast for me now, Amber. Slow down.”

“All right.” Amber winked at her and got up to fetch the bottle of wine out of the fridge.

A frisson of excitement ran up Micky’s spine. Could it really be that simple?

CHAPTER FIVE

The next Monday, after having pondered Amber’s words throughout the weekend, Micky had a different kind of spring in her step when she walked to The Pink Bean. Amber had been right. Micky was ready. She was nervous and scared, but she was ready. Her conversation with Amber had left her feeling like the cork had been popped from a bottle of champagne and now all these pent-up emotions came gushing out of her.

She would look at the customers differently today—with a more open attitude, as Amber had advised. Not that she expected anything to come of that, but again, as Amber had said, it was more about the feeling that came with it.

Kristin opened the shop at six and was always there when Micky arrived at six thirty. When she kissed Micky hello, a habit she had taken up from the very first day, even her boss looked different to Micky. Everyone and everything looked different.

Next, Micky wondered about Josephine. She was a PhD student at the university where Sheryl worked. Micky watched her pour milk into a steaming jar and wondered how Amber could tell whether people were gay or not. And what if they were bisexual or anywhere else on the
spectrum
she had talked about last Friday. Micky had thought about the
spectrum
a lot.

“You and Amber should come to dinner sometime soon,” Kristin said fifteen minutes later, when The Pink Bean was still empty. “Sheryl and I would love to have you over.”

Micky couldn’t believe it. Walking in here with an open spirit had had an immediate effect. Though, of course, Kristin had probably planned to ask her all along. Still, it didn’t matter to Micky. It made her feel good—like she was on the right track.

“That would be great.” Micky looked at Kristin’s regal posture and her upmarket clothes. Micky didn’t know what a typical coffee-shop owner looked like, but if asked to conjure up the image, Kristin would be the last person she thought of. She looked more like a lady who lunched—a very smart one. “Amber is vegan, though, for your information.”

“Not an issue. Quite a few of our friends are,” Kristin said. “Give me a shout when Amber pops in for her daily tea, and we’ll set up a date.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Kristin was, of course, Micky’s boss, though it didn’t feel that way at all. There was nothing authoritarian about her. She never raised her voice and was an expert at going with the flow, even when things got very hectic. Kristin probably knew her bed was made. A few more years of operating a coffee shop in Darlinghurst and she could retire very gracefully.

Micky had only been on the job a week, and already an entrepreneurial spirit she didn’t know she possessed reared its head. What would it be like to own a place like this—and count the takings after closing time? Apart from a job when she was in college—for a degree she never used—Micky had never earned a cent. Darren had always been the breadwinner. Micky made a tiny amount at The Pink Bean, but she wasn’t there for the money—although the very act of earning it felt good.