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Mira racked her brain for possibilities and came up with nothing. “What is it?”

“I want to make it clear I’m not asking anything of you.”

“What are you saying?”

Isabel’s face twitched as though she were in pain. “I have feelings for you. And I know that’s my responsibility. I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

Heat rushed through Mira’s body. What had Isabel just said? Mira couldn’t have heard that correctly.

“I’m not asking anything of you,” Isabel repeated in a monotone. “I just thought it would be unfair to you if you didn’t know. If you don’t want to keep living with me, I get it.”

Mira stared. Emotions churned within her, too confusing to name. “For me?”

Isabel nodded like she was breaking horrible news.

“Okay. I, um, I didn’t expect this.” That was an understatement. Isabel could obviously have anyone she wanted. Any woman who actually liked other women would beall over her in an instant. In a sense, it was a tremendous waste that Mira wasn’t into women.

A long time ago, she’d had a few short-lived relationships with straight women; each time, the unspoken expectations had wrapped around her and choked all the air from her lungs. Years later, panic still gripped her when she remembered trying to be someone she would never be. Being with men had been a relief, though she had never fit into the small, insular, mostly white gay scene in college, either. And after she had transitioned, that was gone too.

When she’d gotten serious with Dylan, she’d thought everything was falling into place. She was a woman with a long-term boyfriend—something that, for her, had been terribly hard-won. And, slowly and inexorably, he’d squeezed her to fit into his life—as a devoted girlfriend, a muse, a plaything, but never a partner or a human being. There was no more room for the question of what she wanted.

She’d been told her whole life, in a million overt and covert ways, that women like her didn’t deserve better. Dylan hadn’t needed to say it aloud to her. He’d said it in everything that he did.

Now Dylan was gone. What was left for her? Mira was lightheaded. The momentary terror of climbing down through the hatch returned, when she’d found nothing beneath her but air. “Um, do you want to sit down?”

Isabel sat down on the couch. Mira got mugs from the cabinet—her favorite, and Isabel’s—and poured them tea, grateful she had something to do. “It’s just about the apartment,” Isabel said. As though that were true. “It’s fine if you don’t want me to stay. I won’t take it personally.”

Mira’s head was still spinning. She hadn’t been remotely prepared for this. Isabel wantedher? “It’s okay. I don’t hold it against you or anything. But, um, you know I’m straight. AndI’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Who was she trying to convince? These were obvious, irrefutable reasons, weren’t they? Then again, why would her reasons even matter? Isabel had made it clear that she wasn’t asking for anything. Havingfeelingscould mean anything. It would be mortifying to ask, and there was no reason for Mira to wonder or to know.

“You don’t have to let me down easy.” Isabel gave her a small smile. If she was joking about it, maybe this wasn’t a big deal. Isabel didn’t want anything between them to change. Mira was overreacting.

“Well, I appreciate you telling me.” Mira was proud of how level her voice was, considering that she’d had her head split open. “It’s just unexpected for me. You can stay in the apartment if you want. I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say that because you feel like you have to.”

“I’m not.” Isabel was too honorable for her own good. It was sweet that she was trying to protect Mira, as though Mira were in any danger. Her mind drifted to that night at the club—her sheer relief, her sense of safety. Maybe that was how Isabel’s girlfriends felt all the time with her.

“You can take some time to think about it,” Isabel said. “We have until the end of the month to tell the rental office.”

Right. They had practical things to discuss. “If you let me say yes now, I can cancel all my showings for tomorrow,” Mira said. “I can give you a tour of the apartment. It’s a nice place. You’d get the big bedroom.”

Isabel smiled, her stoic facade crumbling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But it’ll be about as tidy as it is right now, with all these books and papers and hair clips everywhere.”

Isabel laughed, which was always a pleasure to hear. Then she sobered up. “I thought, with your ex…”

“That’s different,” Mira said quickly. “This is nothing like that. We’re not together.”

“I guess. I mean, of course not.” Isabel looked stricken.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Mira said. “You’re a good roommate and a good friend. I want to keep living together, if that’s what you want.” This had been a rough day for Isabel. The least Mira could do was comfort her.

Tea would help. Mira had almost forgotten. She jumped up. “Be right back.” She returned with mugs of tea for them both. “It’s a bit strong. Don’t drink too much.”

Isabel took a sip and sighed. “Thanks, Mira.” Her stiffness was mostly gone. “I do want to stay. I’m glad this worked out.”

“Me too.” They had a good thing going. Isabel’s revelation wouldn’t change anything.