Chapter 12

Mel stood in front of Bebe's condo door, working up the courage to knock.

She'd become such a frequent visitor lately that the doorman merely nodded to her when she entered. She'd texted earlier in the day, mentioning that she wanted to stop by, but Bebe had been weirdly silent in response.

In fact, Bebe had been uncharacteristically incommunicado for the past couple of days. Whereas Mel had come to expect at least a text or two daily from Bebe—scheduling their dates required constant back-and-forth, not to mention the banter—she hadn't heard a peep from her since Monday night. Bebe hadn't responded to Mel's question about TV's new ownership. Not a single sympathetic emoji following Mel's frustrated string of messages about how Brent was watching her like a hawk at work. When Mel sent her an extremely funny video of a small dog trying to carry a big stick? Nada. It was like Bebe had dropped off the face of the earth.

Mel would have asked Kade if everything was okay, but she didn't have their number. It was worrisome enough that Mel decided to stop in to check on Bebe's well-being.

Even in casual arrangements, there was a certain level of care required, and Mel figured that making sure your—girlfriend? The guidelines didn't cover what to call each other—was alive and well was the bare minimum.

She let out a breath and knocked. Bebe answered the door.

She looked fine, was Mel's first, relieved thought. Maybe a little tired, a little strained around her expressive eyes. But otherwise, Bebe looked absolutely normal, standing in the doorway.

"Mel!" Her eyes were wide with surprise, like she was coming out of a daze and the last thing she'd expected to see was Mel in her hallway. Then her gaze softened into that bright, beaming happiness she so often exuded. "That's right, it's Monday. Did we have plans tonight?" She opened the door wider, ushering Mel inside.

"No," Mel said, pulling her winter hat off her head, "no plans. Just wanted to see you." Then, because that sounded too sappy, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets and rocked on her boot heels. "Couldn't seem to raise you on the horn, so I thought I'd check in. See how you're doing."

She took in the sight of Bebe's home while Bebe closed the door. Some documents were spread out on the kitchen counter, not an uncommon sight in Bebe's domain. Her job involved about a metric ton of paperwork. Piles of folders littered the floor of Bebe's spare bedroom/office on the regular, and now it seemed the avalanche had migrated to this room, too.

Bebe followed Mel's gaze and gave a harried sigh. She hustled over to the counter and shuffled the paperwork into a stack before squirreling them away in one of the kitchen drawers. "I'm so sorry. I've been snowed with work, plus Kade and I had to meet with Callen about some boring financial things…" She slammed the drawer shut and braced her hands on the countertop, shaking her head. "I meant to answer your texts, really. It's been one of those weeks."

Mel felt she had to justify showing up uninvited, so she cleared her throat and said, "You usually text back no matter what time it is. I was worried." Then, because that sounded too honest, she added, "I thought you were, like, stuck in a coma somewhere, While You Were Sleeping–style. Seemed to be the only logical explanation."

Bebe went soft as pudding, her eyes swimming in fondness. "Oh, you absolute sweetheart." There was something melancholy in her voice that bothered Mel. But then Bebe cleared her throat and took Mel's coat, and everything seemed normal again. "Here, make yourself at home. Sit! I haven't seen you in ages. Catch me up on everything I've missed because of my stupid job."

It shouldn't have been that simple, but Mel felt mollified by Bebe's easy manner and quick apology. Of course she'd been busy. Of course she wasn't ignoring Mel on purpose. They were keeping everything so casual, a few days without word was absolutely fine.

Mel threw herself into the cushy embrace of the sectional and sighed. Her whole body felt swallowed by the luxurious cushions. "My work's been a real pain, too. Terror Virtue got sold to this batshit conglomerate a few days ago and—oh, okay." She stopped her complaining as Bebe slid atop her lap, pressing Mel further into the sofa. Mel's hands found the soft swell of Bebe's hips automatically, and her eyes met Bebe's.

Bebe leaned over Mel, her long hair spilling over her shoulder to tickle at Mel's collarbone. She pulled at the hem of her tailored skirt until it was bunched around the tops of her thick thighs. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, sounding not sorry at all. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were saying?"

Mel sat up, Pavlovian to a T. "I was saying something?" She slid her hands up Bebe's legs, mapping acres of her peaches-and-cream skin. "Wasn't me. I've never said anything in my life."

Bebe gasped happily as Mel's mouth closed over her throat. A distant worry tapped at the back of Mel's brain—were they alone, or was Kade home? She tried not to care; either way, she wasn't doing anything wrong. She had the sign-off. Besides, it had been a whole week since she'd last tasted Bebe. She deserved a little fun.

Still—it would be more fun in the privacy of Bebe's bedroom. One thing Mel had quickly learned from dating Bebe: she and Kade did indeed maintain separate bedrooms. The room Mel had assumed was Kade's home office was actually where they usually slept.

Mel stopped kissing Bebe's neck to say, "Should we take this upstairs?" Bebe enthusiastically agreed. They clattered up the staircase, dropping Bebe's clothes like breadcrumbs in their eagerness.

A few hours and orgasms later, Mel was wide awake and unable to sleep, which wasn't unusual. Mel had only ever lived in squat walk-ups in the city, so the comparative quiet of Bebe's condo was jarring. Here, high above the streets, the sounds of traffic were muffled to a whisper. Mel couldn't even hear a single persistent car alarm. It wasn't natural.

She sat up in Bebe's bed, her back cushioned by the upholstered headboard, her knees making a tent under the bedclothes. Next to her, Bebe was asleep with her long hair spilling over her silk pillowcases. She was a deep sleeper; the car alarms and midnight arguments on the street never seemed to bother her when she stayed over at Mel's. Mel listened closely to the sounds of Bebe's lungs working, the sweet sigh of her breath. She had worn a lacy nightgown to bed, and the thin silk of the strap had slipped down her arm, making her look like a pinup model. If pinup models made the occasional charming backhoe-like snore.

Mel reached for a strand of honey hair, twining it around her finger. God, the hold this woman had on her. And she didn't even know it.

Couldn't know it, really. Mel had been the one to establish the "keep it casual" rule, and here in the dark of the night, she could admit to herself that she was failing at sticking to it. She was more than fond of Bebe, more than attracted. She was so into her, it hurt. That was a complication Mel wasn't prepared to deal with. The whole point of dating Bebe was to not get too involved too quickly. She scrubbed a hand over her tired face. Fuck, trying to sleep at normal-people hours was a useless exercise. She needed a glass of ice water and a Bogart flick.

There was no real reason to be quiet since nothing short of an airstrike would wake up Bebe, but Mel was careful anyway. She slipped out of bed, finding her black boxer briefs on the floor and tugging them on. Her shirt had disappeared somewhere in the night, so Mel grabbed Bebe's diaphanous blue robe from where it was slung over the upholstered vanity stool. She stumbled out of the bedroom, tying the robe's belt into a half-hearted knot at her hip.

She found her way down the floating staircase and into the living area. Ambient light from the city streamed in through the huge glass windows, casting strange shadows around the room. Kade's sculptures looked ghostly like this, and Mel found herself staring at the shapes they threw on the walls as she padded toward the kitchen.

She was so distracted, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a softly spoken, "Good evening."

"Fucking—" Mel clutched a hand over her heart, looking wildly to the kitchen island, where Kade was sitting still as a statue with a mug cupped between their palms. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm sorry," Kade said, though they didn't sound it. Their eyes were barely visible in the gloom, tracking Mel as she drew closer. "I thought you'd notice me eventually, and when you didn't, I wasn't sure how best to announce myself."

"It's your house. You don't have to announce anything." Mel stood awkwardly, glancing down at her half-dressed state. The robe, designed for Bebe's voluptuous proportions, gaped at her chest in a way that threatened to show Kade a lot more boob than they probably cared to see. Mel's hand grasped the edges of it and held it tightly closed at the base of her throat. "If I'd known this was a party, I would've dressed up. Or, you know, put on actual clothes." The last thing she wanted was for her girlfriend's wife to think she was parading around half-naked to stake a claim or some bullshit like that.

"I'm not bothered by what you're wearing." That, at least, sounded sincere through and through. Kade leaned away from the island and gestured to their own midnight ensemble: a mostly unbuttoned striped pajama top paired with spandex bike shorts. It was the most casual outfit Mel had ever seen on Kade. "I'm not exactly dressed for company either," they said.

"Well, I'll"—Mel pointed with both hands over her shoulder at the stairs—"leave you to it," she finished. Barging in on Kade's late-night solo brooding was not among her top ten ways to spend an evening.

"No, please." Kade reached out one long, bare leg and kicked out the stool next to them. "You're not company. You're Mel."

Even in Kade's bloodless monotone, that was the most welcoming sentiment Mel had ever heard from them. She took the offered seat, feeling awkward but eager to make a good impression. She still hadn't figured out where she stood with Bebe's wife. Some part of her considered them to be kind of like… coworkers? Except Bebe was not a job, so that didn't really wash. They were like ships passing. Or maybe moons made a better metaphor; celestial bodies orbiting around a shared planet, always on separate paths.

"You usually aren't around when I stay over," Mel said, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. "Do you go hang out with, um, other partners or…?"

"No, I don't have any others. Not at the moment." Kade turned the mug between their hands. "Those few times you've stayed over, I tend to pull all-nighters at my studio."

"Ah." Mel nodded. "That's really cool of you. To give Bebe that kind of space, I mean."

"It's more for my benefit than hers. My wife has a"—they smiled to themself, staring down into their mug—"far greater capacity for social interaction than I do. I need lots of time to myself. We're lucky that our lives fit together like they do." Kade lifted the mug in their hands. "Herbal tea. Would you like some?"

Mel licked her dry lips. "Uh, I could actually go for a glass of water if it's not too much trouble."

Kade got up and moved around the kitchen on silent feet, collecting a glass from a cabinet and filling it at the fridge's built-in dispenser. "So you're a night owl, too, I take it."

"Yeah." Mel listened to the ice cubes clinking, then the low shush of water filling the glass. "The hours they have me working, hard not to be." She accepted the cold glass from Kade, fingers brushing in the dark. "Thanks."

"It's nothing." Then, "I often have trouble sleeping, especially when I'm in the middle of a project," Kade said. They retook their seat and held their mug again. "It's one of the reasons Bebe and I sleep apart sometimes. She needs her rest, and I need space to ramble around on nights like this." They stared into the depths of their tea, then took a serene sip. "There's nothing more romantic than allowing your partner what they need, I think."

"You don't miss sleeping next to someone—her—at night?" Mel asked. She remembered how hard it had been after her divorce, getting used to a bed that felt empty and lopsided without her wife in it.

Kade shot Mel a calculating look. "If one of us is in the mood, we'll sleep in the same bed. Usually hers. That mattress…" They shook their head in wonder.

"Oh my god, I know. It's like a cloud made of angel breath," Mel said. Was it weird to rhapsodize about high-quality memory foam with your metamour? She chugged her water to keep from saying anything more.

Kade seemed unfazed, though. "Nothing but the best for our girl." A small, almost sweet smile appeared on their lips before it was locked away. "I've been meaning to ask—how are things with you two?"

Mel froze in the middle of wiping her wet mouth with the back of her hand. That question and all its potential answers seemed like a minefield. Especially since lately, Bebe had been so distant.

Kade must have sensed her hesitation, because they rushed to add, "We don't—it's not a requirement for us to discuss this. If you'd rather not. It's only—" They took a deep breath and started again. "Our situation is unique. I thought you might not have many people you could speak to comfortably. If you'd like, you could speak to me. I love Bebe and I want her to be happy."

"Do you have reason to believe she's not?" Mel swallowed around the lump in her throat. With me, went unsaid.

Kade tipped their head to the side, contemplating their mug of tea like it held state secrets. "Please understand, I know her better than I know myself. She has seemed… agitated lately." They paused. "Then again, it could be I am painting her with my own worries."

Mel bit her lip. "I don't think you're off base. She's been a little—distracted, I guess?" She wondered how much she should share with Kade. No way was she going to tell them she had ended up liking Bebe more than she'd planned, but she did want to exchange pertinent information about their mutual partner. The thought of Bebe sleeping upstairs with her hair spilling over the pillows pushed Mel to say, "I came over tonight kind of uninvited because I was worried about her, actually."

Kade sat up straighter at that, their face taking on a thoughtful cast. "And did she tell you what's been bothering her?"

"Uh, not really. We kind of—" Mel felt her face flaming. "Got distracted. By other—stuff. Sorry." Whether the apology was for her lack of fact-finding or mentioning doing unmentionable things to their wife, Mel wasn't sure.

A rueful almost-smile stole across Kade's lips, though it could have been a play of the shadows. "No need to apologize. I am intimately familiar with the ways Bebe can distract an otherwise levelheaded person." Looked like they were taking it as the former. "I'm glad it's not just me who thinks something is off, though."

"Definitely not just you. It's almost like—I don't know, did I do something wrong?" She looked at Kade, feeling her face pinch. Maybe Bebe had mentioned the moment at the gallery to Kade. Maybe she had taken it harder than Mel had thought, when Mel hadn't returned the offered affection.

But Kade shook their head. "I don't think you're the problem. When Bebe talks about you, she glows."

Mel felt an absurd amount of relief sweep through her. She almost slumped off the high stool with the force of it. "Really?"

"Of course." Kade said it like it was a fact, a given, an immutable law of nature. "Don't you know she—?" They stopped. Their mouth clamped shut with a click.

"She what?" Mel asked.

Kade ignored the question like it had never been asked. "I suspect it's some issue at work."

"That class action lawsuit. She told me how messy it was," Mel said.

They nodded. "The likely culprit, although normally she would talk to me if work was overwhelming. As much as she's allowed, anyway, given the legal constraints around client confidentiality." They stood and placed their mug in the sink with a dull thud. "I wonder if she might confide in you. You wouldn't have to tell me the details, but I'd like to know she's speaking to someone. Bottling it up will do her no favors."

Mel made a considering noise. "So, what, we're on the same side now? Team Get Bebe Out of Her Funk?"

Kade stilled at the sink, their hands bracing on either side of it, their back a taut line. Mel wished she could see what their face was doing, because she couldn't parse the tone of their voice when they finally said, "You and I have always been on the same side. Haven't we?"

"Um, sure. Same is fine," Mel babbled. "We're all here. On the same—yeah." Maybe it was the insomnia making her punchy, but Mel felt warm at the notion. Kade wasn't all dryly raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Somewhere under that reserve was the soul of an artist.

Mel was glad they were on the same team, at least when it came to Bebe.

Kade turned then, their gaze tracking to the windows. "It's very late. I should at least attempt to get some sleep." They gestured to the expansive kitchen before heading toward the floating steps. "Help yourself to whatever you need. What's mine is yours."

"Ha, good one," Mel said with a soft snort. "Poly humor."

Kade just stared at her. Right. They'd never stoop so low as to crack a joke.

"Never mind. I mean—thanks. Good night." Mel drank more water, hoping it would wash away the embarrassed heat in her cheeks.

Kade gave her a bemused nod, then headed up the stairs. Mel listened to their soft footfalls on plush carpet overhead, and finally heard the click of a door.

She folded herself over the kitchen island, pressing her forehead to the cool marble with a groan. Why did every interaction with Kade make her feel like she'd failed a standardized test? No, not only failed—like she hadn't even brought the right pencil. She hoped they realized how hard she was trying to be respectful and polite in this three-way relationship.

Mel drained her glass of water, then placed it in the sink next to Kade's mug. She was still keyed up, no way she'd get any sleep if she went back to bed now. A late-night poke around the kitchen might get her out of her head. With a fridge and pantry as well stocked as Bebe's, maybe she could get some inspiration for the next iteration of her competition cocktail.

A wine rack was bolted to the kitchen wall, filled with all kinds of bottles. Mel noticed that at least four of them were the same Bordeaux, and she wondered whether Bebe or Kade was a fan of that vintage. She pulled one free and scanned the label, recognizing the winery. TV maintained a small selection of beer and wine on their menu for customers who didn't like the hard stuff, and she knew this to be a solid red, not too expensive, and readily available.

A New York sour with the traditional red wine float could be just the ticket to win the competition. They'd fallen out of fashion a few decades ago, but Mel recalled someone at work saying the Savoy in London had put one on their menu this year. Could be time for a resurgence. Plus it fit the brief perfectly.

Well, Kade had told her to help herself to whatever she wanted. Mel placed the wine bottle on the counter and went hunting for other ingredients.

The kitchen was solidly Bebe's domain, and Mel felt strangely close to her pawing through it. Even with Bebe sleeping a flight of stairs away, Mel could sense her in every meticulously organized cupboard. The sugar was in a space-age airlock container with SUGAR stenciled on the front, for Christ's sake. A wealth of lemons sat nestled in a clear plastic bin in the fridge right next to the limes and oranges. Mel smiled to herself as she plucked one from its nest. Leave it to Bebe to always keep fresh citrus on hand for a rainy day.

A small roadblock loomed: Mel needed a corkscrew to open the wine. She opened what felt like it should be a utensil drawer but found only tea towels in different vibrant prints. "If I were Bebe's corkscrew," she muttered to herself, "where would I be?"

Another drawer: forks and spoons. Another: every kind of spatula under the sun. Mel opened a fourth drawer, certain that it would contain what she needed, but deflated when she saw it was filled with nothing but random bits and pieces. Even ritzy people had a junk drawer, she supposed. Mel dug through it hoping to turn up a corkscrew, but only encountered loose AA batteries, a ruler, receipts, spare keys, and paperwork.

Right when she was about to slam the drawer shut and move on, some papers in particular caught her eye. Mel vaguely remembered Bebe putting them in the drawer earlier in the evening, before they'd gotten distracted with other things. The top page was on company letterhead—Bebe's company, Kipling and Beech—and Bebe's name was repeated up and down the document, her full name, Blair Blanche Murray. Bebe's handwriting was also all over it, the same handwriting that appeared on their relationship guidelines. Cramped into the margins, squeezed between the lines of type.

Mel thought about leaving it alone. For half a second. But she'd promised Kade she'd try to figure out what was bothering Bebe, and this seemed like a good place to start.

She removed the paper and started reading. Then she read it again. And again.

"Oh," she said out loud. It echoed in the empty room. "Fuck."

At least now she knew what was wrong with Bebe.