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“He looks like that guy who’s in that Netflix show about…something,” Sienna said.

“Exactly!” Chloë agreed.

“Okay, babe, you need to listen to me, okay?” Sienna unfastened her seatbelt and adjusted herself in her seat so that she was facing Chloë. Cupping Chloë’s chin, Sienna gently turned Chloë’s head until she could look into her eyes. “Do not jump to conclusions! Isn’t that what you told me Morgan did when she saw you and me together that day?”

Chloë opened her mouth to protest but the words died in her throat. Sienna was right, of course. Morgan had jumped to a conclusion that day and now she herself was jumping to a conclusion. And both instances were based on very little evidence.

The problem was, seeing her girlfriend having a drink with a guy was playing directly into Chloë’s fears about her relationship with Morgan. Namely, that Morgan had never been with a woman before and so what if this whole thing they had going on really was nothing but an experiment? And on top of that, there was Morgan’s refusal to flat-out say, “I’m a lesbian” or “I’m bisexual.” Even the latter would make Chloë feel better and safer because even the latter meant that Morgan was acknowledging that she was genetically programmed to be attracted to women as well as men.

Not that Chloë would be okay with Morgan acting on that attraction to men. Hell no. But at least such an acknowledgement would be better than what Morgan was giving her now: vague non-answers about her sexuality that left Chloë wondering if the other shoe was going to drop.

“You just need to talk to her,” Sienna said, “and find out what’s going on.”

***

Later that evening, Chloë rang Morgan’s doorbell.

“Come in!” she heard Morgan call from inside.

Chloë let herself in and followed the sounds to the dining room where she found Morgan lighting two candles on a well-laid table. Delectable aromas were wafting in from the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” Morgan gasped when she turned to greet Chloë. “You look amazing!”

Chloë knew that. It was their six-week anniversary, after all, and she had made an effort. She had on a dark-blue sleeveless flare dress, fitted at her waist, with a scoop neck revealing her cleavage. And of course, her legs were on display from just past mid-thigh on down to her feet which were wearing wine-colored high-heeled sandals.

She just wondered if there was going to be another six weeks with Morgan after tonight.

Chloë had promised Sienna that she would talk to Morgan to find out why Morgan had been out having drinks with that guy who looked like that guy in that Netflix show about…something. The guy Chloë was pretty sure was Clint.

What Chloë didn’t know yet was how she was going to bring it up.

And now Morgan was in her arms, kissing her hungrily. The dress was obviously working. And Morgan’s kiss was working too. Chloë’s entire body was responding, her core was melting, her nipples were hardening, even her toenails seemed to be tingling.

When Morgan finally released Chloë’s lips, she said with a smirk, “Sorry; I couldn’t help myself. You just look so—”

“Who was the guy?” Chloë suddenly blurted out, surprising even herself.

Still locked together in their embrace, Morgan frowned.

“What guy?”

Chloë swallowed.

“Morgan, I’m sorry; I swear I wasn’t spying but I saw you with some guy at that place next to Von’s earlier today.”

Morgan’s features smoothed.

“Oh, that was Clint!” she answered easily, evidently completely unaware of the turmoil inside Chloë’s heart right now. “We bumped into each other at Von’s and then he invited me to have a drink next door. We hadn’t seen each other in a while.”

The frown returned.

“Chloë, you’re trembling! What is wrong?”

All Chloë could do was stare at Morgan, trying to find any evidence of a lie in her girlfriend’s visage.

Morgan’s eyebrows slowly raised.

“Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “You didn’t think…”