One Good Reason

by Sarah Mayberry

  Normally Tyler forgot her birthday, then made up for it by buying her something expensive a month or so later. Times had changed. He had Ally to remind him now.

  Gabby parked close to their double-fronted Victorian home and fumbled in her bag for her lipstick. She found a roll of mints and two tampons, but no lipstick. Damn. Maybe she should have made the time to swing home and freshen up.

  Who are you trying to impress, anyway? It’s just Ally and Tyler.

  Her hand stilled in her bag. It was a good question. Who was she trying to impress? Not Tyler anymore. That horse had well and truly bolted. As for Ally, right from the start she’d embraced Gabby has a friend.

  Yet there was no denying the fact that Gabby found herself playing the comparison game whenever she spent any significant time with Tyler’s wife. It was hard not to, given the superficial similarities between the two of them. They were both on the petite side, and they both had short, dark hair. Sure, Ally was much curvier than Gabby, and her hair was curly instead of dead straight, but it wasn’t as though Tyler had gone off and married a six-foot-six redhead. Then there was the fact that both she and Ally were not exactly shy, retiring types…

  Enough in common, really, to seed a host of unanswerable questions in Gabby’s mind. But as she reminded herself regularly, Tyler had made his choice, and she was happy for him. Anything else was a waste of energy.

  Which meant she didn’t need to worry about lipstick. She was having dinner with two of her good friends. End of story.

  Before she could examine her navel any more, she got out of the car and made her way up the well-lit path to Tyler and Ally’s porch. The door opened before she could knock and Ally greeted her with a hug. Dressed in an aqua dress with white embroidery around the hemline, she looked fresh and bright.

  “I was beginning to think you were never going to show up,” she said.

  “Sorry. I got held up at work.”

  “As usual. Your boss is a slave driver.”

  “Don’t look at me—it’s the office manager who wields the whip,” Tyler said as he joined them in the wide entrance hall. He kissed Gabby’s cheek. “Happy early birthday.”

  Gabby laughed. “I can honestly say that’s the first time I’ve heard those words pass your lips.”

  “What can I say? Forgetting dates is a guy thing.”

  Ally poked him in the ribs. “You’re on increasingly thin ice with that one, mister. All the latest research is showing that there’s precious little difference between the male and female brain.”

  Tyler captured her hand in one of his to save himself from further prodding.

  “I kind of like the differences. Don’t know about you,” he said, smiling into his wife’s face.

  Gabby looked away. She could tell herself she was happy for Tyler until the cows came home, but there was no getting around the fact that seeing the way he looked at Ally made her chest ache.

  Not once in three years had he ever looked at her in the same way. Not once.

  Which is why he married her and not you, dufus.

  “Something smells great,” she said, sniffing appreciatively.

  Ally hooked her arm through Gabby’s. “I made us Moroccan meatballs with preserved lemons, pistachio couscous and orange-and-date salad.”

  “We’re going through a Moroccan stage,” he explained as they walked toward the open living space at the rear of the house.

  “Well, you know me, anything that I didn’t cook myself is manna from heaven,” Gabby said.

  “Good. Tyler was worried it might be too exotic for you.”

  Ally released Gabby’s arm to pour wine into three of the four glasses on the counter.

  “Here’s to you,” Ally said as she passed Gabby a glass.

  “Yeah, happy birthday, Gab,” Tyler said.

  Gabby clinked glasses, distracted by the single flute still on the counter. It was possible, of course, that Tyler or Ally had simply put out one too many. She hoped like hell that was what had happened, because the alternative was that someone else was joining them for dinner. And since it was a small and cosy family affair, she had a horrible feeling she might know who that fourth person might be.

  Right on cue, the doorbell rang. Gabby’s stomach dipped with foreboding.

  “I’ll get it,” Tyler said.

  “We thought it might be nice to have Jon over, too,” Ally explained as he disappeared to answer the door. “We’ve barely seen him since he’s been back, because he was in Woodend so long. Now he’s here, I’ve been bugging him to come for dinner every night, and finally he said yes.”

  Ally looked pleased. Gabby could only imagine how she looked. Constipated? Bilious? The last thing she wanted was to sit around a table making polite conversation with Tyler’s knuckle-dragging brother.

  “Wasn’t sure what you guys were having, so I brought red and white,” Jon said as he and Tyler appeared.

  Jon’s step faltered when he saw her standing there.

  “Evening,” she said, raising her glass.

  For some reason his obvious discomfort made her feel better, made her feel less childish for being unhappy about him being here.

  “Hi.” Jon was frowning slightly as he put down the bottles of wine he’d brought.

  “Finally I get you in my clutches. I’m determined to put some meat back on those bones, you know,” Ally said, planting a kiss on his cheek and giving him a warm hug.

  Jon hugged her as warmly, a faint smile on his face. Ally seemed very small in comparison to his big body. Gabby experienced an odd clench of…something as she watched them embrace.

  Looking away, she swallowed a big mouthful of wine. Everybody loved Ally, it seemed. Even the arrogant, standoffish brother.

  “Have some wine. We’re toasting Gabby,” Tyler said.

  Jon’s expression was unreadable as he accepted a drink.

  “Gab, you know I’d be a mess without you. You’re my right-hand woman. Hope this makes up for all the other birthdays I’ve forgotten,” Tyler said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Gabby saw Jon tense as he registered the occasion. As she’d suspected, Ally hadn’t told him tonight was her birthday dinner. In fact, given that small giveaway hesitation when he’d first entered, Gabby was pretty damn sure he hadn’t known she was going to be here. No doubt he would have come up with an ironclad excuse otherwise. Lord knew, she would have if she’d known.

  “Happy birthday, Gabby,” Ally echoed.

  Some instinct made Gabby glance at Jon as she took a drink. She saw him lift his glass to his mouth, tilt it and wet his lips. But he didn’t open his mouth. It was over in a split second, so fast she almost thought she’d imagined it, but she hadn’t.

  Jon had faked drinking a toast in her honor.

  Wow. He must really dislike her.

  She was surprised how much the realization stung. Then she gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t care what he thought of her. The idea was laughable. Ludicrous. She’d met him only two days ago, and what she knew of him proclaimed him to be a screwup of the highest order—she should consider it a badge of honor that he didn’t like her, not a slap in the face.

  Tyler crossed to the sideboard to collect a small, neatly wrapped box. “From us.”

  Gabby took the box, very aware of the tall figure standing at the edge of her peripheral vision.

  “This is awfully small for the company car I’ve been campaigning for.”

  “Next year,” Tyler said.

  Gabby tugged the pretty silver ribbon free and lifted the lid. Inside, a pair of stud earrings rested on a velvet cushion. Set with golden-brown gems, they sparkled in the overhead light.

  “They’re beautiful,” Gabby breathed.

  “They’re golden beryls. I saw them and thought they were a match for your eyes,” Ally said. “Tyler couldn’t remember if your ears are pierced, but I was pretty sure you wore earrings to his birthday in August.”

  “My ears are pierced.” Gabby touched one of th
e glittering stones, trying not to be hurt that Tyler couldn’t remember. He’d been in her apartment, in her bedroom, hundreds of times. Had he really forgotten her messy jewelry box? And what about the time she’d freaked out over sucking up one of her favorite earrings in the vacuum cleaner? Had everything pre-Ally been consigned to the archives of his mind?

  “If you don’t like them, we won’t be offended if you want to swap them for something else,” Ally said.

  Gabby realized she’d been silent for too long and she offered her hosts—her friends—a big smile.

  “They’re absolutely perfect. Gorgeous. In fact…”

  She eased the earrings from the box. A few seconds later she let her hands fall to her sides and offered herself up to Ally and Tyler’s scrutiny. “How do they look?”

  “Just as I imagined,” Ally said.

  Gabby stepped forward to kiss her cheek in thanks. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

  Ally drew her into a hug, squeezing her tight. “It was my pleasure.”

  Gabby squeezed her back.

  When Tyler had first introduced her to Ally, Gabby had been determined to like the woman who had made him so happy, even if it killed her. She’d been prepared to overlook anything, to be generous and accepting of any and all faults or shortcomings because Ally was Tyler’s choice, the woman he loved.

  The woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  Then she’d met Ally and realized that it would be no hardship to like her. She was warm and generous, smart and funny. Easily one of the most thoughtful people Gabby knew—witness the beautiful earrings, chosen with care and consideration. Not too dangly or elaborate—because Gabby was not a fussy woman—and, apparently, a match for her eyes. Although Gabby was pretty sure it was a stretch to compare her ordinary brown eyes to the warm golden gems. It hadn’t taken her long to understand why Tyler had fallen in love with Ally. She was very easy to love.

  Tyler patted her on the shoulder fondly as she and Ally broke their embrace. Gabby gave him a wry look, then her gaze slid to where Jon was standing at a distance, watching them. Their eyes met for a moment before he glanced down at his still full wineglass.

  “Okay, people. Make a beeline for the table, it’s time for the feasting to begin,” Ally said, waving them toward the dining table that occupied one corner of the room.

  Gabby dutifully followed orders, but Jon lingered at the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

  “That means you as well, my friend. The last thing I need is you hovering while I serve our meal,” Ally said.

  “Funny. I thought only men suffered from short person syndrome,” Jon said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ally asked.

  Jon looked at her, a smile quirking his mouth. “What do you think it means?”

  “I think you’re saying I’m bossy.”

  “Hey. If the shoe fits…” Jon said with a don’t-blame-me shrug.

  Ally laughed and gave him a shove. “Move, you big lug.”

  Gabby watched, fascinated, as Jon resisted Ally long enough to make her really work before finally deigning to shift from his position. There was a lazy, amused light in his eyes, not quite the same as the expression he’d had when he was chatting up the blonde in their showroom this afternoon, but certainly just as playful.

  “Next to Gabby, please. Since I’ve already been labelled a dictator, I might as well have it the way I want it,” Ally instructed.

  Gabby gave a silent sigh. Great. Now she was going to have to rub shoulders with Captain Studly through three courses and coffee. Not exactly the birthday celebration she’d been hoping for. But there was precious little she could do about it.

  Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  GABBY FIDDLED WITH THE STEM OF her wineglass as Jon hesitated for a telling second before pulling out the chair next to her.

  Nice.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t have cooties,” she said as he sat.

  “Good to know. Although I’ve never really been sure what they are.”

  “I think they’re the equivalent of girl germs.”

  “Yeah? I’ve always been kind of partial to those.”

  Gabby flashed to the scene she’d witnessed this afternoon. “No kidding.”

  She realized immediately that he might take the comment the wrong way, but when she glanced at him askance he was smiling slightly.

  Don’t get too excited, but you may have had your first civil exchange with Jon Adamson.

  Not quite a miracle, but close to it given their record. Which probably meant she should make an effort to extend the cease fire.

  “So, um, how are you finding Melbourne after so long away?”

  “Busy. The traffic is nuts. I don’t remember it being this bad.”

  “You’ve been away ten years, haven’t you? Melbourne’s grown by about a million people in that time.”

  “That would explain it.”

  A small silence fell and they both glanced to where Ally and Tyler were serving the meal. To Gabby’s admittedly inexpert eye, it looked as though they were still several minutes away from being rescued by their hosts.

  Which meant more small talk was called for.

  Over to you, buddy. I did my bit.

  “So. It’s your birthday, huh?” Jon finally said.

  “Yep. Keeps coming around every year, whether I like it or not.”

  “Am I allowed to ask…?”

  “Thirty-three. It’s actually on Saturday, but since we’re having the work Christmas party then, Ally wanted to do something tonight so I’d feel special.”

  “Sounds like Ally.” There was a softness in his voice when he said the other woman’s name.

  “Yeah. She’s pretty great.”

  Another silence.

  My turn. Think of something. Anything.

  But the only thought that popped into her head was that he would have a hell of a time buying a suit off the rack with his broad shoulders.

  She took a breath to launch into a discussion about work, but he beat her to it.

  “So, Dino was telling me you usually dress up for the Christmas party?”

  She gave him a mental elephant stamp for coming up with such a nice, neutral topic. Even they couldn’t go awry talking about this one.

  “It’s kind of become a tradition.”

  “What are you coming as this year?”

  “I was thinking Rudolph. But I’m still toying with the idea of a Christmas tree.”

  “What about your girlfriend? Does she get into the whole dressing-up thing?”

  Gabby frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  She was vaguely aware of Tyler and Ally ferrying dishes to the table.

  “Here we go,” Ally said.

  “Or aren’t partners invited?” Jon asked, his questioning gaze going from Gabby to Ally to Tyler.

  Partners. Girlfriend.

  The words circled Gabby’s brain like thought balloons. It took her a full five seconds to join the two together and jump to the only conclusion possible.

  “I’m not a lesbian.” It came out sounding a lot more high-pitched and defensive than she would have liked.

  Ally’s eyebrows rose as she stared at Jon. “You thought Gabby was gay?”

  Tyler laughed. “Bloody hell. Where did you get that idea from?”

  Jon’s cheekbones were a dull red. “She mentioned her girlfriend, and I thought…” His gaze went to Gabby’s hair, then dropped below her chin to her body. “I must have got the wrong end of the stick.”

  “Girlfriend as in a friend who happens to be a girl,” Gabby said.

  She didn’t need a mirror to know she was bright red—she could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Although why she was embarrassed was beyond her—he was the one who had made a fool of himself.

  “Sorry. My mistake,” Jon said.

  “No kidding,” Gabby said. Talk about a lack of perception.

  Tyler was still
smiling.

  “Tyler. It’s not funny,” Ally chided.

  “I know. Sorry. It’s just— Gabby as a lesbian… It boggles the mind.”

  “Can we let it drop?” Jon said. The glance he shot her was full of apology.

  Great. First he outed her as a lesbian, now he felt sorry for her.

  “This looks great, Ally,” she said brightly, picking up her knife and fork. “You know, if you weren’t married, I’d be tempted to nab you for myself.”

  Everyone laughed, including Jon. The knot in Gabby’s stomach loosened a little.

  “This reminds me of a letter I got last month for the column…” Ally said.

  Gabby reached for her water glass as Ally launched into her story. Gabby nodded and laughed and made comments in all the right places, but all the while, behind her smile and her I-couldn’t-care-less demeanor, her mind was whirring, obsessing over Jon’s mistaken assumption.

  She told herself that she didn’t care what he thought, that being thought to be gay was not an insult, that some of her best friends were gay. She told herself that his lack of perception said a lot more about him than it did about her. She even got herself to the point where she half believed it—except she kept returning to that significant pause when he’d looked at her hair, then her body before apologizing for getting it wrong.

  “Excuse me.” She pushed back her chair and stood.

  Hopefully enough time had passed that her leaving the table wouldn’t be read as retreat. Right now she was beyond caring.

  The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click and she crossed the tile floor to stand in front of the full-length mirror mounted beside the old-fashioned tub.

  She stared at the woman she saw reflected there, determined to prove to herself once and for all that Jon had his head up his backside.

  The woman staring back at her had short, straight dark hair, with a crooked fringe and a pale face utterly devoid of makeup.

  Heaps of women have short hair, her inner voice scoffed. Audrey Tatou has short hair, and no one is calling her a lesbian.

  As for the no-makeup thing, well, she’d simply gotten out of the habit of it over the past few months. Admittedly, she looked a little…nondescript without it, but, again, it didn’t make her gay.