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“Should you try dating again? Even just casually?”

“Swiping through an app like I’m looking for a puppy sounds terrible.”

She’d been with precisely two women in her life, one of them being a rebound right after her divorce. A blurred memory of frantic hands, a quick and dirty orgasm, and sobbing afterward while the nameless brunette awkwardly patted her on the back before reaching for her shoes and calling an Uber.

“I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not being in a relationship.” The shoulder strap of her fairy wing loosed, and she tugged on it to tighten. “Isn’t there a bumper sticker that saysSolitude equals safetyor something like that?”

“Guaranteed that bumper sticker doesn’t exist.”

“Whatever. Besides, I got you.”

Ben tore the muffin wrapping into scraps and tossed it in the trash. “You should just get laid, then. You’re so fricking tense all the time.”

She cringed. “No way could I do casual sex. I’d probably propose right after we banged.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic.”

Hopeless romantic? The inability to have casual sex had nothing to do with romance, and everything to do withfinallydiscovering the beauty in healthy boundaries. When she and Jess were together, Charlie had an obsessive need to take care of her wife. She could see now that it was an attempt to bury her own feelings, and the darkness that hovered anytime she was alone. Nearly a year passed after their divorce before Charlie understood how deeply toxic her codependency was with Jess. If she slept with someone, who knows if that compulsion would return.

Her clunky platform sandals—totally impractical for a parade but darn cute with her gold-and-silver-sequined minidress—clicked across the hardwood floor. She took a bottle from the water cooler and zipped it in her purse. “You’re right, though, about me being in a funk. Running this place takes more than I thought, and all the paperwork and stuff stresses me out.”

Ben whipped up his head. “You good?”

“Nothing I need to worry about right now.” Her phone buzzed with an unknown number. She clicked it off. “Hey, if Mack stops by, you could mention the parade.” She attached a purple-and-jade sparkly butterfly clip to the side of her hair and hoped Ben didn’t notice the slight shake in her voice. Only two weekshad passed since she first met Mack, but she had gotten weirdly used to having her at the shop, typing away at the laptop.

“Mack, huh? Ooh… does someone have a crush?”

“What? No. I just, you know, she’s new in town.” She had the distinct urge to smear chocolate frosting across his cocky smirk. “I don’t have a crush.”

Okay, fine.Maybe a tiny one.

The packed metro bus dropped Charlie at the corner, and she walked two blocks to the parade. Mini-doughnuts, perfumed bodies, and marijuana blended in the air, and she stopped to take two full, delicious breaths before moving on. She shielded her eyes against the sunbeams ricocheting off the metallic floats shooting multi-colored rays like fireworks.

Laughter, bells, and the methodical heartbeat of the drums infused the air as she navigated through swarms of people and searched for an open spot where she could appreciate the Mardi-Gras-plus-nudist-colony-style parade.

“Oops, sorry,” said a purple-haired woman who bumped into her as the throbbing of drums amplified.

Stretching on her tiptoes, she hoped to get a better look at the body-paint-covered naked bike riders. Fern leaves, strawberries, and cherries strategically covered breasts. Angel wings swept across bare backs. A Pokémon covered, well, everything.

“Charlie?”

Charlie’s head snapped so fast that she almost slapped her cheek against her fairy wing. She blinked multiple times as her heart thudded in her ears. “Mack?”No way! She’s actually here?“Hey!”

They both opened their arms for a hug, but Charlie flash hesitated since they’d never touched. Mack’s face seemed to register the same thought because she stopped and stumbled, but now Charlie committed to not making this any more awkward and dove in sideways to not poke Mack’s eye out with a wing. A beautiful combination of crisp sea salt and blackberries wafted from Mack’s neck, and Charlie turned to Jell-O at Mack’s firm embrace.

Mack released. “Look at you, all festive and sparkly. Pretty sure I’ve never seen this outfit on you before.”

“This old thing?” Charlie tossed her hands up and twirled. “I wear it the first Sunday of every month.”

A group of G-string-clad folks with masquerade-ball masks and rattling tambourines passed them with several people bumping into both Mack and Charlie. A small scowl inched across Mack’s face and she squeezed her arm tight against her side. “Who’s running the shop?”

“Ben and a part-time employee.” Charlie fanned her face and cursed herself for not bringing a sunhat. “I’ve come here every year since I was a kid. No way was I giving this up for mocha-seeking urbanites.”

“I get that. Lot of people, though, right?” Mack scanned the crowd. “Might even be more colorful than New York City’s pride parade.”

Pride parade.

“Mack!” A broad-shouldered, taut-chested, perfectly five-o’clock-shadowed man trotted towards her with a wide grin.