One Good Reason

Heaps of women have short hair, her inner voice scoffed. Audrey Tatou has short hair, and no one is calling her a lesbian.

As for the no-makeup thing, well, she’d simply gotten out of the habit of it over the past few months. Admittedly, she looked a little … nondescript without it, but, again, it didn’t make her gay.

She dropped her gaze to her body. Her T-shirt was old and stretched out, the fabric swamping her small breasts and bunching unattractively around her waist. Her jeans were cut for comfort rather than style, their fit loose and utilitarian. Her sneakers were old and scuffed, again chosen for comfort over appearance.

Gabby blinked, but it didn’t change what the mirror was telling her. The voice in her head was suspiciously silent.

She looked like a boy.

Was it any wonder that Jon had made assumptions? Really?

She sat on the rim of the tub, feeling shaky. As though someone had pulled a veil from her eyes and forced her to see an unpalatable truth.

When had she stopped caring how she looked?

When had she stopped wearing makeup and going to the hairdresser instead of trimming her own hair with nail scissors? When had she stopped buying sexy underwear and high heels and pretty clothes?

When had she ceased to think of herself as an attractive, sexual being and slipped into this sexless, safe disguise?

She didn’t know the exact date, but she could guess: the moment she’d given up on Tyler. Nearly four years, give or take. Four years of seeing him every day, convincing herself they were better friends than they had ever been lovers and that she’d done the smart thing—the only thing—in breaking off their relationship.

She laughed suddenly as a bitter irony hit her: she’d broken up with Tyler to protect herself, but he was the one who had moved on. He’d found love, while Gabby, apparently, had been marking time.

A wellspring of emotion tightened the back of her throat. She pressed her fingers against her eyelids. If she started crying, she’d never stop. And there was no way she was going to hide in the bathroom and cry at her own birthday party while her ex and his new wife fretted about her on the other side of the door.

No. Freaking. Way.

She took an unsteady breath, then another. She stood and shook out her hands.

“Come on, princess. Get it together.”

She tried out a smile in the mirror. It looked more like a grimace than a smile, but it would have to do.

Then she threw back her shoulders, straightened her spine and opened the bathroom door.

She had a birthday party to survive, after all.

JON SHOOK HIS HEAD AS TYLER offered to refill his wineglass, his brother only belatedly noticing that Jon hadn’t finished his first glass yet.

“Driving,” Jon said at Tyler’s enquiring look.

Tyler didn’t say anything, but Jon guessed from the dawning understanding in his brother’s eyes that they would be having a conversation about his abstinence in the near future.

Great. Exactly what he wanted. Not.

He glanced toward the hall for the second time in as many minutes, very aware that Gabby had been gone for a long time. Judging by their casual demeanors, neither Tyler nor Ally seemed to find her extended absence unusual but they were still in the honeymoon phase of their marriage, totally wrapped up in one another. They probably wouldn’t notice if Jon jumped on the table and started doing the chicken dance.

It was possible he wouldn’t have noticed Gabby’s absence, either, had he not been sitting next to her. He’d felt her tense when he’d asked about her girlfriend. And even though she’d brushed off his assumption and made a joke about it, he’d felt her continuing tension. She’d practically vibrated with it, like a plucked harp string.

He’d hurt her feelings. Unintentionally, but the result was the same. He might be a lot of things, and she might be a pain in the ass, but if he could take back the moment, he would.

He was about to suggest Ally go in search of her absent guest when Gabby returned. Jon studied her face as she sat. She was wearing a polite social smile but he could see the unhappiness behind her eyes.

Damn.

He was going to have to apologize. Not that he hadn’t already done so, but clearly he was going to have to try again.

He reached for his glass, his fingers closing around the stem. Only when he was carrying the wine to his mouth did he register what he was doing. He reversed the action without drinking.

Two months. That was how long he’d sentenced himself to abstinence. Not because he truly believed he had a drinking problem, more to prove to himself that he could stop if he wanted to.

It occurred to him that a guy who didn’t have a drinking problem should be finding it a hell of a lot easier to go without than he had the past few days. Certainly he probably shouldn’t keep catching himself fantasizing about grabbing a six-pack on the way home from work, or imagining the warm creep of alcohol stealing over his body and numbing his mind.

“So, Jon, what’s this mysterious apartment you’re staying in like? Tyler tells me it’s around the corner from the workshop,” Ally said, drawing his thoughts back to the moment.

“It’s a serviced apartment. Nothing mysterious about it that I can see,” he said.

“Great. Then I guess the coast is clear for Tyler and I to come over for dinner one night soon.” Ally had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

He was well aware that his sister-in-law was quietly campaigning for a closer relationship between him and his brother. It was never going to happen, for a variety of reasons, but Ally would realize that soon enough on her own without him pointing it out to her.

“Sure. As long as you like take-out pizza.”

“You’re as bad as Gabby,” Tyler said. “I swear I was never that pathetic when I was single.”

“Isn’t there a rule about not dissing a person on their birthday?” Gabby said.

“No. And even if there was, it’s not until Saturday, so I’m in the clear,” Tyler said.

“I can cook,” Gabby said.

“Ditto,” Jon said, because he figured he owed it to her to provide backup.

“Microwaving frozen meals doesn’t count,” Ally said.

“Toast does,” Jon said. There was an echo, and he realized Gabby had said the same thing simultaneously.

She glanced at him, disconcerted. He offered her a faint smile. Not too big, since he didn’t want to push his luck.

Her gaze became frosty.

He was still in her black books, then. It figured. She hadn’t liked him much before he’d got her sexuality wrong—she would probably go home and burn an effigy of him in her yard after tonight’s events.

Ally served lemon cheesecake for dessert—Gabby’s favorite, apparently—and they all watched as Gabby dutifully blew out the single candle. They moved to the couches while Tyler prepared coffees with their shiny new espresso machine.

Jon’s gaze kept drifting to the wall clock, trying to calculate when it would be acceptable for him to leave. Immediately after coffee? Or would that mark him as the crassest of social boors?

He jiggled his leg impatiently, willing Tyler to hurry. Once the coffee was ready, Jon gulped his down while it was still too hot and earned himself a burned tongue for his troubles. Finally he decided he must be in the clear and made his excuses.