Chapter 12 #2
The hostess wedged them into a table so close to the stage Gwen could feel the vibration of the keys in her ribs.
Menus were perfunctory, cocktails named after Sinatra hits: “Luck Be a Lady” martinis, “That’s Life” Old Fashioneds, “Fly Me to the Moon” glitter shots.
Pete ordered a round of “Regrets I’ve Had a Few,” whatever that was.
When the pianists caught sight of their table — tiaras, sashes, Pete waving like she was running for office — one leaned into the mic. “What are we celebrating here at Strangers in the Night?”
“Bachelorettes,” Maggie called out, pointing like the sashes and tiaras weren’t dead giveaways. “Two of them!”
The place erupted. The pianists launched into “Going to the Chapel,” the whole bar joining in. Pete climbed onto her chair to conduct, arms flailing, while Danica tried to yank her down by the wrist, giggling too hard to succeed.
Kiera slipped a twenty into the request jar, whispering to the pianist. A few songs later, the first chords of “My Girl” rang out, and Kiera took the stage.
Her voice wobbled on the first line, but by the chorus she relaxed, her clear, warm alto carrying over the piano.
The crowd swayed, clapping along, and Kiera — face flushed, eyes shining — kept her gaze locked on Izzy the whole time.
Izzy looked like she might burst, clapping and singing harmony from their table.
The entire room was wrapped in that magic, so sweet, earnest, and nakedly romantic Gwen felt that longing pinch behind her ribs again.
Maggie sat back, sipping her glowing “Regrets” cocktail with a smirk, but Gwen didn’t miss the softness in her eyes as she watched.
When Kiera finished, the place roared, the pianists bowing like they’d orchestrated it themselves. Izzy pulled her offstage into a kiss that earned whistles from the bar.
Gwen clapped with everyone else, but her chest ached. She glanced at Maggie, already sliding out of her chair to dance when the pianists switched to Britney Spears.
Gwen couldn’t help it. She watched unashamedly. Maggie in full tilt was always magnetic, chaos wrapped in charisma.
The waitress returned with rainbow shots “compliments of the house.” Pete raised hers like a torch. “To friendship, chaos, and for this bar keeping all our secrets.”
They cheered, glasses clinking. Gwen tipped hers back without flinching. Maggie winced at hers, laughed, then steadied herself on Gwen’s shoulder as she set the glass down. The touch was casual, but Gwen felt it like a brand.
The pianists slid from Britney into Elton John, pounding the keys so hard the whole bar seemed to pulse with it. Maggie was already on her feet, tugging Pete up by the wrist. “Come on,” she shouted, grinning wild, blonde hair tumbling into her face.
Danica resisted for a second, laughing nervously, then let herself be pulled too.
Even Kiera, still pink from her stint at the mic, got dragged into the fray, Izzy swooping behind her like backup.
Soon half the group was in front of the stage, Maggie leading the charge, Pete shimmying badly, Izzy clapping on the wrong beat, Danica gamely swaying while Maggie spun her by the elbow.
Gwen stayed seated. She told herself it was because she didn’t dance, but the truth was, she couldn’t trust herself. Not with Maggie glancing back every few seconds like an invitation.
Izzy sat down beside her, flushed and breathless, short hair sticking to her temples.
She grabbed a water glass and leaned back.
“I’m not saying Kiera’s secretly a pop star, but…
” She gestured toward the dance floor where Kiera was laughing, her wavy bob going wild with some hair tosses. “That was kind of incredible.”
“She did great,” Gwen said, meaning it.
Lillian slid gracefully into the empty chair on Gwen’s other side, her cocktail glass glowing faintly under the neon. “She looked radiant,” she said smoothly, watching Izzy watch Kiera with a faint smile. “That’s what happens when someone adores you out loud.”
Izzy’s cheeks went pinker, and she ducked her head with a grin. “Yeah. I’m pretty lucky.”
Gwen sipped her water. Out on the dance floor, Maggie had Pete by both hands, spinning her until they were both doubled over with laughter. The crowd clapped along, happy to be collateral in their chaos.
Lillian, lounging with her elbow propped on the back of her chair, tilted her head. “So it’s new, then?”
Izzy blinked. “What is?”
“You two,” Lillian said smoothly, her smile faint but sly. “Getting together. You’ve got that shine. Honeymoon glow.”
Izzy laughed, startled. “Oh, uh yeah, I guess. New-ish. Not brand-new.” Her blush deepened as she tugged her napkin into her lap. “We’re newly engaged, actually.”
Lillian raised her glass in mock salute. “Savor it. I, meanwhile, am painfully single. Watching you two is both charming and vaguely insulting.”
Izzy ducked her head again, laughing. “Sorry?”
“Don’t be.” Lillian’s eyes slid to Gwen, sharp even in the dim light. “What about you?”
Gwen stilled. “Me?”
Izzy perked up, suddenly quiet, as if she’d been waiting for someone else to broach it.
Gwen’s fingers tightened around her cool water glass. Out on the dance floor, Maggie was bent over laughing, hair sticking to her damp forehead, Pete clapping her on the back. She looked incandescent. She looked like everything Gwen both wanted and couldn’t have.
Lillian swirled the ice in her glass, eyes still on Gwen. “Yeah, how did you and Maggie meet?”
The question shouldn’t have startled her. But it did. Gwen cleared her throat, fingers tracing the condensation ring her water had left on the table.
“Grad school,” she said finally. “A party.” She could still see it: a cramped apartment with peeling linoleum, someone blasting Beyoncé through tinny speakers, the smell of beer and cheap pizza.
Maggie on the couch in ripped jeans, laughing so loud it had pulled Gwen across the room like gravity.
Gwen had been there with a napkin when Maggie had spilled something, taking any excuse to talk to her.
“I was… drawn to her. Instantly.” Gwen gave a small, rueful laugh. “Moth to a flame.”
Izzy’s lips curved, soft. Lillian’s, sharper.
“Clearly you still are,” Lillian murmured. “Even if that’s a little dangerous for a moth, don’t you think?” She didn’t wait for an answer, like she didn’t expect one. Then she slid from the table with feline grace, disappearing into the press of bodies and chaos.
The noise of the bar seemed to recede, just for a beat. She hated to admit that Lillian did have a point.
Izzy shifted beside her, shoulders brushing. When Gwen finally glanced over, Izzy was watching her with an expression that was equal parts kind and curious.
Izzy cleared her throat. “So, how long have you two been separated?”
The words landed with more gentleness than Gwen expected, but they still knocked the air from her chest.
Gwen kept her gaze on her glass, the rim cold against her fingertips.
There was no use denying it. Izzy knew them better than any of their friends, having spent time with them after not one but two tragedies.
Of course she’d figured it out. “It’s complicated,” Gwen said, tone edging toward final.
She tried for her calmest expression, the one that had gotten her through meetings with impossible clients and funerals. “We’re… figuring things out.”
Izzy’s eyes softened, but her voice was steady. “Come on, Gwen. I know you two. Be honest with me.”
Gwen exhaled, long and shaky. She hadn’t planned on talking about this tonight — not here, not in this ridiculous piano bar with glowing cocktails and sing-a-longs and Maggie out there twirling like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Her throat tightened anyway. “Six months,” she said finally. “We’ve been separated six months.”
Izzy’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Gwen pushed on before she could stop herself.
“I sleep in the guest room. We only talk when we have to — about bills, the kids, schedules. It’s like living with a ghost of someone you…” Her voice caught. She pressed her nails into her palm. “Someone you still love. Even when you know you shouldn’t.”
The words landed heavy between them, muffled by the crowd’s off-key singalong of “Sweet Caroline.”
Izzy reached across the table, squeezed her hand once, firm and certain. “That sounds like hell.”
Gwen swallowed, blinking hard. “It is.”
Out on the dance floor, Maggie laughed at something Kiera said, head thrown back, confetti in her hair. Gwen’s chest ached like she’d been carved open.
Izzy’s thumb brushed over Gwen’s knuckles, grounding her in the middle of all the noise.
“Hey,” she said softly, almost drowned out by the crowd’s ragged chorus.
“You don’t have to beat yourself up for this.
Nobody gets marriage exactly right. Nobody.
You and Maggie… you’re allowed to be messy.
You’re allowed to still love each other, even if it hurts. ”
Gwen blinked hard, the sting in her eyes threatening to spill. She turned her hand under Izzy’s and gave it a quick squeeze before pulling back, needing the space.
Izzy didn’t press. She just leaned back in her chair, giving Gwen the dignity of silence.
Gwen let out a sigh that felt like it came from her bones, then tipped her glass and drained the rest of her drink in one swallow. The ice clinked when she set it down, a soft sound that somehow cut through the din of the room. “I prefer it when you tell me useless facts when I’m upset.”
“Did you know Venus is the only planet that spins clockwise?” Izzy asked immediately.
“That’s better,” Gwen said, her amusement feeling bittersweet. “Just… we aren’t really telling anyone, if you don’t mind keeping it to yourself.”
“About Venus? Yeah, totally,” Izzy said, leaning back in her chair.
Onstage, the pianists barreled into another song, the crowd whooping like it had never heard music before. Maggie’s laughter floated above it, bright and sharp, and Gwen sat in the amber glow of the table light, feeling both emptied out and too full all at once.