Joyce sighed and paired the tenth set of socks. The laundry now sat in neat piles, and all she had to do was put it away. But frankly, she was sick of it. She was weary of cooking dinner, sick of folding laundry, and fed up of vacuuming and dusting and cleaning. Fine, she worked from home; it was natural that she'd be the one doing a few more of the chores. But still, Tom definitely didn't pull his weight. He was a nice guy but obviously a fairly old-fashioned one when it came to division of household chores.

She immediately cursed herself for being selfish. She hated how things had turned out, and she knew Tom deserved better than her feeling resentful about folding his socks. To be honest, things had started out well. Very well. She'd been happy with Tom. When the time came, he was a caring and considerate lover, and she didn't regret moving in with him in the slightest. He'd brought flowers home from work, he'd complimented her cooking, and he'd commented on how nice the house always looked. Dammit. He still did those things. It wasn't he who had changed—it was her.

This normal life she'd always wanted was turning out to be not quite what she'd expected. She picked up the piles of laundry and put things away. In a word, it was boring. Was tedious servitude how things were supposed to be? She had no idea. Millions of women every day did exactly what she was doing, and none of them seemed to have a problem with it. It left her right back in her old mind-set: There was something wrong with her. There was a reason she wasn't happy ironing Tom's shirts—because she was a freak.

She slammed a drawer closed. No. She wasn't a freak. Sometimes things didn't work out—that was all. Or maybe she needed to make more of an effort. She liked Tom, which in a way, made it worse, because she was beginning to have a sneaky suspicion that while she liked him, she didn't actually love him. She'd mistaken their easy friendship, the comfort, their shared interests, and the niceness for love. Now, what the hell was she supposed to do about it?

Rattling hangers in the closet, she was annoyed with herself she'd been fooled like this, gulled by herself. Fooled by all those hopes and dreams and the thought that once she was herself, everything else would come easily. Tom had fallen right into her lap, and he loved her. She could tell. She saw it in the way he looked at her, felt it in the way he touched her. So was she going to break his heart?

She looked around the room. It was tidy enough. The laundry was done and put away. The carpets were clean. She'd scrubbed the kitchen earlier. There was a pile of paperwork on her desk requiring attention, but screw it. She needed to get out, to be Joyce for a while and not Tom's Joyce. She slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed her car keys. She knew exactly where to go to make herself feel better.

From the car, she tried to call Aureus, but there was no answer. Aureus had been acting strangely, and Joyce put it down to perhaps some minor jealousy. Aureus still hadn't started dating, though Tom had offered to set her up with a couple of his friends. A light turned red, and Joyce slowed to a stop, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. When she'd tried to talk to Aureus about Tom, about how Joyce was feeling, her friend had counseled to be careful: "What's between you and Tom is between you and Tom," she'd said. "I love you, Joyce. But I think it's only fair that you talk to Tom about your feelings for him. How would you feel if he spoke to someone else about his feelings for you, instead of coming to you?"

Aureus. Ever reasonable. And of course, always right. The light changed to green, and Joyce pulled her foot off the brake. She couldn't talk to Tom—simply couldn't. She felt awful about her secret feelings, and as time passed, she wondered if she could go on pretending, continue living with it. Maybe things would change.

Clicking the indicator on, Joyce turned into the parking lot. Here. The mall. She'd treat herself to something new, have a look around, and leave her worries at home for a while. She grinned as she took her purse from the passenger seat. There were still good things in life.

***

Just the other side of the top floor, she promised. Then she'd head home and get dinner started. Her arm was aching from carrying her bags, so she switched them to the other hand and inhaled the smell of the mall. Cookies and cinnamon and new. She loved the smell. Walking along the railing, watching people over the balcony below, Joyce was content. Shopping had been both productive and cathartic, and she thought she'd go home and make a special effort to be nice to Tom. Probably all this was her fault. Even after so long, the hormones sometimes made her a little crazy.

She'd recognize her anywhere. It wasn't only the color of the hair or the shape of her body—it was the way she moved, her own style of grace. Spotting Aureus below, Joyce was about to shout down when she noticed her friend was with someone.

It was a man, his back turned to Joyce so she couldn't see his face. He bent, leaned down to kiss Aureus, and even as the movement began, Joyce felt a shard piercing her heart. She turned away from the railing, groped for the nearest bench, and sat.

How could she not have known? All these years. All this time. How could she not know her own emotions, her own mind? She'd always thought she was envious of Aureus. First, because she was a woman. Second, because she was beautiful. But one movement, that stooping motion to kiss, had brought it home.

She wasn't envious. She loved her.

Joyce's emotion was love. She recognized it immediately. It wasn't anything like how she'd felt for Tom. It was unmistakable—a sharp shard of jealousy that came only from watching the woman she loved being kissed by another man. Oh, God. Christ. What was she going to do now?

Leaving her bags where they were, she stood and started to walk. She needed to get back to the car—had to get home. How was she ever going to face Aureus again? Feet unsteady on the tiled floor, she found the nearest escalator and clung to its railing as it took her down.

"Joyce! Joyce!"

She rushed on, ignoring the voice until a hand caught her sleeve.

"Joyce! What are you doing here?" Aureus said, smiling brightly.

Joyce took a breath. One last game of pretend, she promised herself. A final time. She could do it. She turned around and grinned. "Aur! Shopping, what do you think?"

Her eyes were bright indigo, deep and beautiful. Her hair brushed her cheekbones, and Joyce ached to put a hand to her face. She felt the old, heavy weight reform in her stomach.

"Look who I found," Aureus said.

Joyce turned and saw the man she hadn't previously recognized. He gave her a sheepish smile. J.P. Of all the people. J.P.

"Hi," he said, then cleared his throat. "It's been a long time."

She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to speak to him.

"I, er, I'm glad we ran into you. I was going to give you a call. Aureus just gave me your number. There's, um, there's something I want to say to you."

Joyce was about to explode. Her eyes darted around, looking for an exit, but Aureus put a hand on her arm, and the warmth slowed her heartbeat.

"Hear him out," she whispered.

"I owe you an apology. In fact, sorry doesn't even begin to cover it," J.P. said. "I can understand why you would never want to see me again, let alone want to talk to me. I swear to you this will be the only time I contact you. Then, I'll be out of your life forever. Both of your lives."

He looked down at his feet, caught himself, and looked directly into Joyce's eyes. "I am truly sorry for everything I have done. For the teasing, the bullying, and for attempting to force myself on you."

Finally, Joyce found her voice. "Found God?" she sneered, unable to help it.

J.P. reddened but shook his head and swallowed. "No," he said quietly. "But I have realized the error of my ways. I stopped drinking. A year ago. Part of my program is apologizing to those I've hurt."

Joyce shook her head. She didn't need to hear this. Didn't want to listen. She had no room in her heart for forgiveness. Not now.

"I understand," J.P. said.

He looked like he was about to say more but reconsidered. Instead, he walked a few steps away, giving Joyce and Aureus a little privacy.

"Joyce," said Aureus. "I understand. But I do think he's truly sorry. I-I mean, we're about to go and have lunch. Join us?"

She shook her head. "No."

Aureus nodded. "Okay. Call me later?"

Joyce took a deep breath. "Sure," she said, knowing she didn't mean it.

She turned and crossed to the exit, not waiting to see Aureus walk away with J.P., not watching her, not wanting to see her. Because seeing her hurt.

***

It took her three attempts to get the car keys into the ignition. Then, when the car finally started, she pulled out of the parking lot, rubber screeching as she turned onto the road. She drove without thinking about it. All she could focus on was Aureus. About her feelings for her. Christ, she'd been confused before, but now she was even worse off. She cursed herself for going to the mall. Why hadn't she stayed at home like she was supposed to? Why hadn't she worked like she should have?

Where could she go? She drove erratically, switching lanes to whichever looked clear ahead. There was a honking of horns as she drove through a red light, making her start so that she turned the wheel and hit the curb with her front tire. The impact frightened her, shocked her back to her senses.

She shouldn't drive. She couldn't go home. She was going to hurt herself or someone else. Glancing up, she saw she was in front of a fast food restaurant, and in the next lot was a motel. Very slowly and carefully, she pulled the car into the parking lot of the restaurant. She got out, took her bag, and locked the car.

Walking on shaking legs, she crossed the tarmac. A strip of wasteland separated the two buildings, and she trod carefully, her heels sinking into the soft ground. Picking her way between the stones and patches of mud let her focus, and her breathing slowed. She reached the forecourt of the motel and looked from left to right, trying to determine where the entrance was. Locating the door, she swallowed. This was the only thing she could think of doing. She mustn't go home. Couldn't see Tom. She needed to be alone.

"A room, please," she said as confidently as she could.

The young clerk behind the desk smiled. Well, why not? She was dressed nicely enough. He probably assumed her luggage was in the car.

"Would you like ground level or second storey?" he asked. "Smoking or non?"

"Anything," she said, panic setting in again.

"I'll need you to fill out this information card, ma'am."

He slid a card across the desk to her.

Her fingers clenched, but she took deep breaths and reached for the pen chained next to her. In shaking letters she wrote her information, and when she slid the card back, she was rewarded with a room key.

"Second on your left as you go out the door. Enjoy your stay!"

She accepted the key without a word and walked out of the air-conditioned foyer. The heat was sticky. The ground was stony. The sky was cloudy. The road was noisy. She had to keep noticing things. Had to make herself aware of the small details—it was the only thing keeping her mind together right now.

The key fit the door. The door was blue. The door opened. The room was clean. The bed was there. The door was closed. The door was locked.

And now, now she could let go. Without even taking off her shoes, she crawled onto the double bed, curled herself into a ball, and let the tears flow. Her breath coming in rasping gasps, raw sobs escaped her. She cried for herself, for Tom, and for Aureus. She wept. For the mistakes she'd made, the time she'd lost. She cried for J.P., for John. She sobbed her heart out for love, and hate, and sorrow. She bewailed her own stupidity. But most of all, she cried for what she knew she could never have.

***

It was after dark when she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her tears had dried hard and salty on her cheeks. She had think things through logically. But no matter how she tried, she could see nothing she could do to make things better. Briefly, her mind flashed to a time long ago. To sharp razors, metal cutting into flesh.

No. She shook her head. No. Not now. Not this time. She was a different person. She didn't want to die; she felt the aversion to it in her gut. She wanted a chance to do things over. To live again knowing what she knew now. She sighed and reached for a tissue from the bedside table. Loudly blowing her nose, she tried to think of her options.

Aureus had always helped her with troubles like this. She'd been the one who was her sounding board. Without her, who did Joyce have left?

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes again. She blinked to banish them.

No, there was one person. An individual who'd been there for even longer than Aureus. One person she could count on. A kindred soul she could speak openly with. Scrambling for her bag, she found her mobile and scrolled down to Devon's number.