All those questions about sexuality that Laura faced were just Laura’s issues. The actual threesome relationship was completely different from Laura’s own individual sexuality, just as Mike and Dylan were separate individuals with their own internal definitions of how to function in society and within the private sphere of home (and bed).
Big and small compromises and joys came out every day in their life together. How new, how different it must be for Darla, Trevor, and Joe.
Thank you, Jill, she thought as Josie stared at her.
“You are a million miles away,” Josie declared, shoving her plate away and taking a long sip of her coffee.
“Thinking about Jill.” Laura took a long drink of her coffee. Tepid now. She pushed it back, looking over the dirty dishes. Her appetite stayed away.
Josie’s face softened. “She pulling up yet? Started driving? Producing grandchildren? They grow up so fast, so treasure every moment!”
Laura laughed. “Not Jillian. Jill. Mike and Dylan’s old…” Old what? Lover? Girlfriend? Not wife. A woman couldn’t marry two men. Whatever label Jill had was the same one Laura had.
Which was…nothing. No word could contain the expansive sense of what she was to them. “Girlfriend” and “baby mama” were the closest, and they made her want to throw up.
“Jill’s closer to Darla in some ways,” Josie said, nodding slowly. “You’re right.” The comment caught Laura completely by surprise. It was as if Josie had read her mind.
“And they’re making it all up as they go along,” Laura pointed out. “So it’s not like me and Dylan and Mike.”
“I don’t think you have much choice, Laura.”
“Huh?”
“If you want to talk to someone about the specifics of life with two men, Darla is it.” Josie pulled out her phone and started tapping, while Madge zipped by and slid the check case onto the booth table like she was an Olympic curler. It landed smack between the two of them, curving around the coffee pot.
“And the U.S.A wins the gold!” Josie muttered without looking up.
Laura paid as usual (because, seriously, why not?), and she got up to check her buzzing phone.
Josie had texted, Call Darla, and her number.
“I know Darla’s number,” Laura muttered.
“Then call her! Invite her to lunch here. Do the whole girl-chat thing where you talk about how to handle two hoses and one fire hydrant.”
“Josie!”
Her friend waved her hands dismissively. “Or whatever you talk about.” She paused and frowned. “Do the guys cross swords? I know they’re not gay, but doesn’t that sometimes—”
“JOSIE!”
“Just call her.” A quick hug from her friend did not melt her one bit, her body rigid with overwhelm. “Dial the number now. I want to watch you.”
“Voyeur.”
A strange look passed over Josie’s features. Laura couldn’t name it.
“Call!”
Against her better judgment, and yet needing to do something, Laura dialed the number slowly, then hesitated before pressing “Send.”
This would be awkward at best.
A disaster at worst.
“Hello?” said Darla.
Laura opened her mouth to begin.