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Imani pointed her glass at Reagan. “Since Reagan is the only one among us currently involved with a previously straight woman, why doesn’t she enlighten us? It is the longest relationship you’ve had since the divorce. Isn’t it?”

Reagan held Imani’s dark eyes in her gaze. Why was she so suspicious of her relationship? She couldn’t have any way of knowing it was fake. Or had been fake. It was real now.

“Why do you keep assuming she’s straight?”

Imani laughed, but it was a cold, joyless thing. “Maybe because she was with a dude and engaged to him for like ten years.”

“I don’t think it was that long,” Kimber started to say, but Imani was undeterred.

“Since when is sexuality a binary?” Reagan asked, her face warming and her chest tightening. “You date men. Does that make you straight?”

The muscles in Imani’s face tightened. “Obviously not, but that’s because I’ve dated women too.”

Reagan flared her nostrils. “What makes you think she’s never dated women? I’m pretty sure I’m a woman.”

“And before you? Before she had some broken engagement mini scandal. Did she date anyone before you?”

The acrid tone of Imani’s words made Reagan think of the hurtful blog post accusing Libby of pandering. How many people felt the same way?

“Why do you care? What’s your deal with her?” Reagan asked as the pointed inquiry knocked her o balance.

“Just answer my question. I’m willing to bet she’s never been with anyone other than you, and I’ll do one better. If she’s not a complete and utter dead fish in bed who doesn’t even touch you, I’ll pay for your dinner tonight. Shit, I’ll pay for everyone’s dinner. Drinks too. That’s how sure I am.”

Reagan’s anger faded as she looked beyond what Imani was saying. It was less important than the pain in her eyes.

The worry.

“Let’s settle down here, girls. It’s not like we can’t be attracted to an entire gender without sleeping with them first. I know I was very in love with Doctor Dana Scully before I ever touched a boob. The good news is Reagan has found a lovely lady and looks happy as a clam,” Sue said as she lifted her glass. “Let’s toast to new love no matter where we find it.”

Without taking her eyes o Imani, Reagan lifted her glass.

“To new love and good friends.”

A couple of rowdy hours later, they paid the check.

Thankfully, Imani had dropped the sex talk about Libby and didn’t say anything about their wager.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

Reagan asked when they were alone and walking toward the end of the lot where they’d parked close to each other.

Imani ran her hands through her short dark curls before looking at the sky as if pleading for help. “I’m leaving it alone. Let’s just say good night before my blood pressure spikes.”

Reagan stopped walking. After a beat, Imani sighed and dropped her head. “Since when do we not talk about things?” she asked the back of Imani’s head.

“Since you stopped wanting to hear what I have to say,”

Imani snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“That’s not true,” Reagan protested, surging forward and grabbing Imani’s arms. “I don’t understand what your deal is,” she confessed. “Please, talk to me.”

Imani’s eyes welled up with tears Reagan guessed were born of frustration. “My deal is that I know you. You’ve been glancing at that phone all night without texting or answering it. I don’t know what her deal is, but if you’re this sprung, she’s got some kind of problem you think you can fix. When are you going to learn that you can’t love someone into wellness, Reagan? When are you going to take care of you and stop worrying about anybody else?”

Reagan’s mouth hung open for a bewildering moment.

Her shock softened the sharp edges of Imani’s angular face.

“I’m sorry,” Imani said after a laborious exhale. “This is your choice, and I should let you make it.”