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It had been three months. Three damn months of awful. There were some nights when a person just needed to go numb. Let it all fall off of them—the hang-ups, the hurt, the preoccupation with the past, and the damn second-guessing. That’s what Megan needed, and she wouldn’t find it sitting home alone, blinking at the wall. She had abandoned Shakers, opting for a more discreet bar a few blocks away. She’d also skipped her typical martini tonight and went out on a limb with a rum and Coke, her second so far. Time to stretch the norm and live a little differently.

“You’re Megan Kinkaid.”

She blinked, turned, observed. A blonde. Pretty. Smiling. A short dress. Yeah, that rum was hitting. “Yes.”

“I tried desperately to get you to plan my wedding. You were hopelessly booked.”

She forced a smile, wanting to be anything but work-Megan right now. “I’m sorry about that. Truly. I hope it was a great event.” She turned back to her drink, absorbing the bluesy music piped in through the inexpensive sound system.

“It wasn’t. We canceled it last year, and she’s been on a serial dating streak ever since. Bullet dodged.”

“I guess that’s another form of congratulations.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” She signaled the bartender. “It’s happening.”

“Fair enough.” She was really quite beautiful, this woman. At any other time in her life, she would have been instantly attracted to her. Was she truly that broken?

The woman sat down and smiled. “Mara.”

“Megan.”

“Oh, I know.”

She smiled back at her. “Right, right.”

They chatted casually, and halfway through Megan’s third cocktail, she felt herself start to relax, and instead of sending not-interested signals, she turned on her barstool and faced her new friend, intermingling their knees, returning a bit of the flirting, and evenallowing Mara to lean in to her space as she moved her cocktail straw in a circle around her drink. Mara was most definitely hitting on her, and though Megan never would have predicted it, maybe this was exactly what she needed to jump-start herself out of this damn heartbroken rut.

“Should we get out of here?” Megan asked, feeling bold and willing to run with the sexual tension that had been building between them all night.

“I live across the street,” Mara offered.

“Ah. Another downtown dweller.”

“Convenient, no? Interested?”

She had pretty great lips. Megan would give her that. “Yes.” She said the word instantly, leading with her gut and not her heart. It felt amazing.

Mara grabbed the bill and settled, took Megan by the hand, and led her out of the bar. Carefree, that’s how she felt, and she was embracing the bliss of it as they walked the streetlamp-lit street to just a block away. She didn’t get to see much of Mara’s studio apartment. Megan was through the door and pressed against the back of it before she had much chance to survey the space. Mara’s lips were warm and insistent, and her body responded, which meant she wasn’t dead. She allowed her hands to roam beneath the hem of Mara’s shirt and up her back. She closed her eyes to better engage, Mara’s lips now on her neck. This was good. She was her old self again. She was living and surviving, maybe even enjoying herself. There could be life after Ally.

Pause. No.

At just the thought of her name, Megan flashed on a pair of big blue eyes smiling across the table at her over a romantic dinner. The tickle of Allison’s hair on her shoulder. The way she kissed Megan, the feel of her fingertips across her skin, which felt markedly different than this woman’s touching her now. She shrugged away the thoughts, ordering herself to focus on the here and now. She murmured her approval at the soft kisses being placed on her neck as Mara moved her way down to her neckline, anything to pull herself back in. But it was like Allison was now all that existed in her brain, and her body refused to engage. She heard Ally’s laugh in her ears, remembered what it was like to anticipate her arrival, to inhale the soft smell of her vanilla-scented perfume once she did. Mara’s lips were once again on hers in a steamy lip-lock, and her fingers worked on the buttons of Megan’s shirt.

She couldn’t. Megan pulled her mouth away, seizing air, her eyes darting to the ceiling.

“You okay?” Mara asked. Megan’s shirt was now unbuttoned all the way, and this was awkward. She caught Mara softly by the wrists and paused their intimate progress.

“I’m just having a night, I think. Dizzy. A little tired. Possibly drunk.” She left out completely in love with someone else and missing her more with each damn day. She was sunk.

“Maybe we just slow down,” Mara said, caressing her cheek. But now, even that felt wrong, like she was betraying her own heart, which was ridiculous and not. She was the one who sent Allison away, and whether or not her intentions were altruistic, who the hell cared now? She was flapping around in the world alone and full of regret, and the only thing that seemed to offer any kind of relief was the idea of calling Allison. Yes, she’d finally just admitted to herself that maybe she’d made the wrong decision.

“I think I need to go instead,” she said, wincing. “I’m really sorry. This is all on me, and you were wonderful.”