Chapter 26 #2
It was surreal that after weeks of planning, not to mention a last-minute water main fiasco, guests were streaming into Simone’s charity karaoke night.
She’d gone from believing she was worthless—from barely holding herself together—to building something so much bigger than herself.
Her fingertips tingled with pent-up potential as she dreamed of what else she was capable of.
She was a badass bisexual and her future was limitless.
Simone went to the door to welcome guests, guide them into the taproom, and warn them not to be alarmed by the giant orange cat prowling back and forth along the bar.
Holly, Nina, and Nina’s partner Dani were there, along with some more of their Rainbow Museum colleagues.
They were followed by a gaggle of Simone’s support-group friends.
Bree had messaged Simone to say she sadly couldn’t make it tonight, since she was visiting Gabi in Paris—but she’d sent Simone screenshots of the donations they’d both made to Loving Minds.
Claude was here, clinging lovingly to Seth’s arm, as was Byron, clinging lovingly to Glen’s. Simone grasped her elbow with the opposite hand, wishing there were someone clinging to hers like that.
Wishing that someone were Ryan.
Or… not quite. She did wish that someone were Ryan, but a version of Ryan that had worked on his trust issues, the way she’d been working through her own identity issues in her Loving Minds support group.
“Simone,” said a familiar man’s voice. When she whirled around, she saw two heads of ginger hair in the exact same shade as hers.
Her brothers had come to support her.
“You guys!” she squealed, pulling Matt and Jason in for a clumsy group hug. Nestling her head between theirs, she looked behind them and saw that Callie, Megan, and Simone’s two nieces had come, too.
“We’re super proud of you,” Matt said, clapping Simone on the shoulder, while Jason peered around the taproom.
“Yeah, this is seriously impressive,” he agreed.
“I love you guys,” she said, for the first time she could remember.
“Love you, too,” they both said.
Now all three Whitaker siblings were turning red, but Simone didn’t regret a thing. “I better see both of you doing karaoke later,” she teased.
Matt turned to Jason. “We should probably head to the bar, then.”
Before they walked away, Jason asked, “Is Ryan coming?”
The question hit Simone like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t told her family about the breakup, and now wasn’t the time—not when she was minutes away from having to speak in front of the whole room. “He couldn’t make it tonight,” was all she replied, her tone clipped.
Jason frowned, but before he could say anything else, Glen tapped Simone on the shoulder, a microphone in his hand.
“You ready?” he asked, holding it out to her.
The plan was for Simone to speak first, then introduce Glen, who would go into more detail about all the ways Loving Minds supported queer mental health.
She nodded and took the mic, wondering if it was possible for the pounding of your own heart to crack a rib.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Glen placed his thumb and index finger in his mouth and did one of those absurdly loud whistles to get people’s attention.
As the lively chatter petered out, Dom jogged around the bar and set down a plastic milk crate for Simone to stand on.
She tapped the mic to make sure it was working.
Seth flashed her a thumbs-up as the thunk, thunk, thunk reverberated around the taproom.
Simone climbed onto the milk crate, so she was at least a head taller than the rest of the crowd.
Surveying the sea of people who’d filled the Common Loon on a Monday night—the first night of Pride Month—Simone felt dizzyingly proud…
and also straight-up dizzy. She took a deep breath.
“Hey everyone! I’m Simone Whitaker. You may remember me from the seven thousand emails reminding you about the change of location for tonight’s event.
” There was laughter—praise the lord. Simone felt herself relax.
“I want to thank you all so much for coming out on the first day of Pride Month to show some love for an organization that’s doing amazing work for the queer community here in Toronto. ”
There was a creak from the front door, and her eyes instinctively darted to the source of the noise.
Simone was about to find out if heartbeats really could crack ribs, because the person who’d just walked in was wearing a white T-shirt, worn-in jeans, and a pair of leather work boots she’d recognize anywhere.
Suddenly, she had tunnel vision, the whole room going black except for the pinprick that was Ryan’s gorgeous face.
His square jaw, dotted with stubble; his shaggy mahogany-brown curls; his magical gray-green eyes. Like moss on a rock.
Then she remembered that she was still holding a microphone—that every set of eyes in the Common Loon was on her. Even Loonie’s. What the hell had she just been saying? Oh. Right. With the deepest breath she could manage now that Ryan had entered the room, she continued.
“I first learned about Loving Minds in January, when I met its founder, Glen, at the Whistler Pride and Ski Festival. At the time, I’d been out publicly as bisexual for all of”—she pretended to check her watch—“three weeks?” Another smattering of knowing laughter helped her relax again.
“Before I came out, I spent years repressing my queerness, which took a serious toll on my mental health.” Cue the flashback to her sobbing in the shower.
“I thought my mental health would get better after I finally came out, but honestly, it was still pretty rough. When you’re bi, you sometimes feel like you’re too queer for straight people, but not queer enough for other queer people.
There are definitely some people in the audience who know what I’m talking about. ”
Sure enough, there were whoops of solidarity from her new support-group friends. Simone referenced a stat she’d learned at one of her very first meetings.
“Research actually shows that bi people are at a greater risk of having poor mental health than lesbians and gay men. Personally, I’ve gone through some pretty dark times, but with the help of my family and friends—including the folks at Loving Minds—I can now say with total confidence that I am not only a proud queer woman, but a woman who’s queer enough. And I want to—”
She was cut off by a holler of support from someone in the crowd, and the next thing Simone knew, the whole taproom was cheering for her.
It was a tidal wave of sound that rivaled the support for Tiny Tank Top at the drag bingo dance-off.
Simone’s cheeks hurt from smiling as she took in the room, soaking up every last drop of love.
In the sea of eyes locked on Simone, there were two she could feel more than all the rest. They belonged to Ryan, who’d moved farther into the room and was now standing with an elbow on the bar.
His pose might have been casual, but the look on his face was anything but: an intense, smoldering gaze that made the muscles in her core tighten, that tugged on the invisible string connecting them through the crowd.
Gah. She was still supposed to resent him for the way things had ended between them. Also, she had a speech to finish.
“As I was saying,” she went on as the applause quieted down, “I want to do everything in my power to make sure other queer people can take care of their mental health, too. Which is why it’s now my absolute pleasure to introduce you to Glen Tully, a wise man who once told me that bisexuality isn’t about who you date.
” She looked down at Glen, who was beaming up at her.
“It’s who you are. He’s helped countless members of the queer community—myself included—with his nonprofit, Loving Minds… ”
As another round of applause filled the Common Loon, Simone handed off the microphone to Glen, who took her place on the milk crate.
As her feet carried her toward the bar, she was vaguely aware of people congratulating her on a job well done, of people patting her on the back and clapping her on the shoulders.
There was only one thing, one person, she could truly focus on, and it was the six-foot-two straight man who still hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
Like he was scared that if he looked away, he’d lose her forever.
“Simone. That was… amazing.”
His deep voice, the way it reverberated in her chest—she was already turning to liquid. Then she remembered what a complete and utter mess their relationship was. “Thank you,” she said, and crossed her arms.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, his biceps flexing. Stop staring at his arm muscles, Simone. “I know you’re gonna be busy tonight, but I was hoping you’d have a few minutes to talk at some point.”
“Let’s go after Glen’s speech.”
When the crowd burst into applause, Simone and Ryan went to the door and slipped out into the warm late-spring evening. The sun was back out following an afternoon rainstorm, and the air had a fresh, earthy scent.
Ryan led her down the porch steps to one of the picnic tables positioned under the string lights, their shoes crunching on the gravel. He stooped to lay a hand on the bench. “It’s dry.”
She sat down with her back against the tabletop. “Did you make this?” she asked, caressing the smooth wooden surface of the bench. Ryan nodded. “It’s… nice.”
“Thanks.” He sat down beside her, leaving space between their bodies. “I’m just gonna get right into it, if that’s okay.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted, like the words had been clawing to get out. “The last time we saw each other—when you told me what happened with Bree—I was an insecure asshole, and I’m ashamed of how terribly I treated you.”
Simone raised her eyebrows, surprised he could even say Bree’s name without losing his cool.