“Shit, Whitley. I mean, thanks for asking…but no. Um, I don’t want to marry you.”

“I didn’t think you’d do it tonight, Whit.”

“Anthony, you need to explain what’s going on. I…I thought you wanted me to ask you to marry me?”

“I did,” he began, before dropping his eyes from Whitley’s face to the overly polished floor, unable to meet her gaze. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant sound of the party continuing regardless of their presence. “But then…” “But then, what?” Whitley’s mind buzzed loudly, a thousand thoughts and fears colliding in her head like bumper cars at a carnival. “Well, then I met someone.”

The man who only last week confessed how much he wanted to make things permanent between them, his eyes bright with what she’d thought was love and excitement, and that he’d like it if Whitley was the one to propose because it would be “so romantic and modern.” That man was now standing in front of her, fidgeting with his bow tie, telling her he’d met someone else.

“Maybe…I don’t know…we could try an open relationship for a while?”

“Whit, come on. Look, I know it’s a lot to process and I’m so sorry I didn’t say something before you—” “Got down on one knee and proposed publicly. Like you’d always dreamed.”

She had responsibilities and an image to uphold—expectations that had been drilled into her since childhood. Not that her parents would expect it—they’d probably be shocked to see her return to the party after such a public humiliation—but Whitley wouldn’t let them down. She couldn’t.

“Would…would you have a word with your dad? You know, smooth things over?” Insanely, she automatically nodded, the people-pleasing response so ingrained it happened without conscious thought.

in America no less, where anything seemed possible if you worked hard enough.

. Well, that didn’t make Layla feel particularly great, but then again, seeing a beautiful woman with a man always left her feeling vaguely disappointed, even when she had no claim or expectation of anything different. Such was the life of a lesbian in a predominantly straight world.

“Regular meals and safe housing do wonders for a person’s entire outlook on life,”

Why were lesbians cursed with constantly catching feelings for straight women? Maybe it was the universe’s way of balancing out the fact that women were just so inherently awesome. That’s what Layla reasoned, anyway, though it didn’t make the situation any less frustrating.

“Fine, I’ll agree to your terms, but only if you say you’ll attend the family party with me as my date.”

A platonic date with a gorgeous straight woman. Remember that, you disaster lesbian!

The King

“the Layla situation”

“Is she the first woman you’ve ever felt an attraction to?” “Yes, absolutely the first. What does that mean about me?” “You owe Layla a toaster oven,”

we could afford to buy the fancy ramen with the weird flavors. Wouldn’t that be nice!”

“Tonight is about much more than just a spectacular show celebrating the upcoming festive season, even though it was fucking epic!” The crowd laughed, appreciating her unfiltered commentary. “Tonight is fundamentally about raising money for the DuPont Foundation, which works tirelessly to help battered women and children find safety, hope, and new beginnings. So, with that critically important mission in mind, let’s not pretend that you’re all not totally loaded and perfectly capable of digging deep into those designer pockets.”

“Good evening, everyone. I have to apologize—I don’t have any prepared remarks because I literally just flew in from London a few hours ago.” “Wing it!” Layla called out

” The hospital room was small and sterile, filled with that distinctive antiseptic smell that made Layla automatically scrunch up her nose in distaste.

“She’s a bloody gorgeous one, kiddo. Very nicely done indeed.” “Thanks, Mum.”

Whitley had never missed Christmas

“Huh. Well, looks like the inquisition’s off, Bev,” Roger commented dryly. Whitley pulled away from Layla, smiling. Layla rested her forehead against Whitley’s and took a deep, centering breath. “I’d say so, Rog,” Beverly replied. “Right, mince pies all around. Welcome to the family, Whit!”

Beverly eyed them both with a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Well, now that you’ve finished thanking Whitley properly, I wouldn’t mind a trip to Marks & Spencer.”

Whitley blushed furiously while Layla smirked with obvious pride. “I am very good at showing my appreciation.” “Layla!” Whitley spluttered in embarrassment. Beverly and Layla tittered with shared amusement. “You take after me, Button,” Beverly retorted with a wicked grin.

“Guilty as charged. We discovered we have quite a lot in common, including a shared appreciation for fine Champagne and embarrassing stories about our children, isn’t that right, Bev?”