Tori had been quiet since Maddie asked whether they could imagine Steve becoming something more than a friend. She sat in the armchair with her feet tucked beneath her, listening while the others tried to find an answer to a question none of them had expected to be considering on Sunday afternoon. Eventually she unfolded her legs, set her feet on the floor, and placed her coffee cup on the side table with a small, precise click. Chloe knew that sound. It generally meant Tori had been listening long enough to identify the problem everyone else was making worse by continuing to talk about it. Ordinarily Chloe might have rolled her eyes, but she was grateful that someone had apparently found a way to begin.

“Before we go any further, I'd like to make sure we're all answering the same question,” Tori said, looking around the room. “Maddie wants to know whether Steve might eventually become more than a friend to us, but we've somehow managed to combine attraction, friendship, and changing our relationship into one enormous decision. I'd rather separate them before somebody agrees to something she hasn't even considered.” Nat settled against the sofa and regarded her with affectionate resignation. “You've been organizing this conversation in your head for the last ten minutes, haven't you? I could practically hear you preparing an agenda.” Tori gave her a patient look. “I've been listening, Natalie. Occasionally that produces an organized thought.”

Maddie poked her head out of the blanket she'd wrapped around herself and looked at Tori suspiciously. “You have a proposal already, don't you? You're going to let us argue until we accidentally arrive at whatever conclusion you've decided is sensible.” Tori conceded that she had an opinion, although she wanted to hear everyone else's before sharing it. Maddie considered that explanation and declared it suspiciously manipulative. “It's called allowing everyone an opportunity to speak without undue influence,” Tori replied. “You're a lawyer. Of course you'd have a respectable name for manipulating people,” Maddie countered, earning a laugh from Chloe.

Tori smiled, apparently willing to accept the accusation if it meant they could make some progress. “I think most of us have admitted we're attracted to Steve, even if some of us have been considerably more enthusiastic about announcing it. I also think we'd all like to spend more time with him. What I'm interested in hearing is whether we're willing to consider changing something that has worked rather well for five people who love each other.” She glanced toward Chloe, who had been sitting on the edge of the coffee table since Brittney and Liz left. “And I don't want anyone confusing excitement about a handsome man with an obligation to rearrange her life. We have plenty of time to discover whether those feelings amount to anything.”

Across town, Steve had intended to spend Sunday afternoon doing something pleasantly ordinary. He'd finished his shopping, put away the groceries, and was enjoying the unexpected luxury of having nothing urgent demanding his attention. Dennis occupied a place of honor on the kitchen counter beside a small stack of mail, his folded paper wings and necktie lending an absurd dignity to the otherwise unremarkable scene. Steve had been listening to music while thinking about Friday night and the conversations that had followed on Saturday. He'd decided it had been one of the nicest weekends he could remember. Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on the sofa researching polyamory because apparently his mind had other plans.

Nat had used the word polycule on Saturday, so casually that he'd originally assumed it was a joke. The internet informed him that it was a real term, although he remained convinced somebody had enjoyed inventing it a little too much. He found metamour, which meant a partner's partner, and kitchen-table polyamory, which described relationships where everyone involved could comfortably gather around the same table. That last one made him think of Maddie arguing with Tori about pancakes while Nat encouraged the argument and Sofia pretended not to enjoy it. He could picture Chloe smiling across the table at the others, and he wondered whether she'd recognize how much affection was hidden inside their ridiculous conversations. He suspected she knew perfectly well.

The practical discussions sounded remarkably familiar. People talked about communication, calendars, scheduling, and the difficulty of making sure nobody felt neglected while everyone else was busy. One writer had devoted an extraordinary amount of attention to color-coded shared calendars, and Steve found himself laughing at the administrative sophistication required to organize a complicated relationship. He remembered Nat describing an ex who'd broken up with her through a calendar invitation and wondered whether romantic scheduling ought to come with a warning about misusing office software. The whole business sounded like project management with considerably more personal consequences, which made him uncomfortable enough to keep reading.

Then he encountered a word that made him stop laughing. Compersion described the happiness someone might feel when a person they loved experienced happiness with another partner. Steve read several explanations, trying to understand how it worked outside a definition in an online glossary. As he thought about it, he kept remembering little things he'd noticed at Blush: Nat laughing because Maddie was being ridiculous, Sofia watching Chloe with quiet affection, and Tori pretending to be exasperated while enjoying an argument more than anyone. The women seemed genuinely pleased when one another was happy, even when that happiness had nothing to do with them personally. He'd noticed it all weekend without knowing what to call it, and now he wasn't sure whether discovering the word had clarified anything or made his feelings considerably more complicated.

Back at Nat's apartment, Tori's invitation to speak had produced an inconvenient silence. Maddie eventually straightened beneath her blanket and announced that she was perfectly willing to begin if everyone else intended to spend the afternoon looking thoughtful. She liked Steve, she wanted to see him again, and she wasn't embarrassed to admit that she'd been thinking about him almost constantly since Friday. She reminded them how he'd helped Rachel without expecting anyone to notice and how he'd looked at her photographs as though they mattered. “I know that doesn't answer every question you've invented, Tori, but I think it's a pretty good reason to find out what happens next.” Tori agreed that wanting to know somebody better was a perfectly sensible answer, which pleased Maddie until she realized nobody had actually agreed to anything more exciting.

Nat had already picked up her phone, and Chloe noticed the movement before she managed to unlock it. “Natalie, please tell me you're not planning to text him while we're having this conversation,” Chloe said, watching Nat's expression become suspiciously innocent. Nat explained that she was merely considering saying hello, perhaps with enough enthusiasm to reassure Steve that everyone had enjoyed his company. Sofia reached across the sofa and rested two fingers against Nat's wrist, gently preventing her from beginning what would undoubtedly become a considerably more elaborate conversation than she'd intended. “He doesn't need you rescuing him from something we haven't decided yet, sweetheart. Put the phone down and tell us what you're actually thinking.” Nat studied her for a moment, then set the phone aside with exaggerated dignity.

“I think he's adorable, and I'd like to see him again,” Nat admitted. “I'd also prefer that whatever happens doesn't involve anyone misleading him, because he's going to notice eventually and I don't want to spend weeks trying to explain why five grown women were behaving like teenagers. I'm perfectly capable of being sensible when I have a good reason.” Tori thanked her for that unexpectedly practical contribution, and Nat informed her that she expected the achievement to be remembered. Chloe smiled, although the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach hadn't improved. She'd liked Steve from almost the first moment they'd spoken, but she was beginning to realize that her attraction to him was only one small part of what frightened her.

Sofia noticed her silence before anyone else. She shifted on the sofa and looked toward Chloe with the gentle attention she'd developed from years of listening to people explain their lives while sitting in her salon chair. “Chlo, you've been thinking very hard over there. Would you tell us what's bothering you?” Chloe glanced around and discovered that everyone was looking at her, which wasn't particularly helpful when she was struggling to explain something she hadn't entirely figured out herself. She liked Steve, and she liked the relationship she already had, but the possibility of combining those two good things was making her nervous. The others had spent years becoming comfortable with one another, and suddenly they were discussing whether to bring someone they'd known for barely two days into the middle of it.

“I'm trying to imagine how this would actually work,” Chloe admitted. “We keep talking about Steve as though liking him is the difficult part, and I don't think that's where I'm having trouble. We have something really good together, and I know how much work went into making it that way. I'm frightened that we might become so excited about discovering somebody wonderful that we forget how much could change.” Maddie immediately objected that Steve wasn't going to ruin anything, but Chloe shook her head before she could launch into a defense of him. “I'm not saying he's going to hurt us, Maddie. I'm saying we don't know enough about him yet, and good people can hurt each other without meaning to. I'd like to be allowed to worry about that without it meaning I don't want him around.”

Maddie opened her mouth, then reconsidered. She'd been preparing to argue that Steve had already demonstrated he was a decent person, but she could see that wasn't what Chloe needed to hear. After a moment, she pulled her blanket closer and offered a small, apologetic smile. “All right. I can understand that, even if I don't think I'm going to get any less excited just because we're being sensible.” Chloe reached over and squeezed her hand, grateful that the conversation hadn't become an argument. “I'm not asking you to stop being excited, sweetheart. I just need to know we can talk about being frightened too.”

Sofia moved from the sofa to the rug beside Chloe's feet and rested an arm against her knee. She'd heard enough to recognize something Chloe had told her years earlier, although she'd never expected the subject to come up again quite this way. “Would you consider telling them about what happened in college?” she asked quietly, leaving Chloe room to decline without explaining herself. Chloe looked down at her and was surprised by how clearly Sofia remembered the old story. She'd spent years minimizing the experience because she disliked how foolish she'd felt afterward, but her partners deserved to understand why she was frightened. After considering it for a moment, she sat back and began.

“In college, I had a friend who everybody thought was wonderful,” Chloe said. “He listened when I was upset, remembered things that mattered to me, and came to events nobody else bothered attending. I trusted him for almost two years, and he was one of the first people I told when I was figuring out how to talk about being a lesbian. I honestly believed he'd be happy for me, because he'd always seemed like somebody who cared about what made me happy.” She looked down at her hands, remembering how confident she'd been. “It turned out he'd been keeping track of everything he'd done for me. He thought being a good friend was how you convinced somebody to fall in love with you.”

Nat leaned forward, anger beginning to show in her expression. “Please tell me he didn't decide you owed him a relationship because he'd been nice to you. I've met that particular kind of idiot before, and I don't think I could tolerate hearing about another one without becoming unpleasant.” Chloe gave her a grateful look before continuing. The man had decided that her sexuality was an obstacle he could overcome through patience, rather than something she'd told him about herself. He'd continued offering help, except now every favor seemed to come with an expectation she hadn't agreed to. When she asked him to stop pursuing her, he spent months explaining why she was making a mistake. Eventually she stopped answering his calls, and he told mutual friends she'd used him because she'd accepted his kindness without giving him what he wanted.

“Nothing physical happened, and I got away from the friendship, so I spent years telling myself it hadn't been that serious,” Chloe explained. “But I remember what it felt like to discover that somebody I'd trusted had been maintaining an imaginary account of what I owed him. I was ashamed of how long it took me to understand what he was doing, and I kept wondering whether I'd somehow encouraged him without realizing it.” Nat reached for her hand, looking as though she wanted to say considerably more than she trusted herself to say. Chloe squeezed back and continued before the others could reassure her out of finishing. “The part that worries me now is how different he seemed from the men who'd made me uncomfortable before. Steve seems different too, and I really do believe his kindness is genuine, but I was completely convinced about the other man until I discovered I was wrong.”

Maddie looked genuinely distressed, and for once she didn't immediately have a theatrical answer ready. She reminded Chloe that Steve hadn't known anybody was watching when he stopped to help Rachel, and that he'd never asked for anything in return after looking at Maddie's photographs. Chloe agreed that those things mattered, particularly because they suggested he was kind even when there was no obvious reward for being kind. She wasn't willing to treat one terrible experience as proof that Steve would behave the same way, but she also didn't want to mistake a promising beginning for certainty. Maddie listened without interrupting, then admitted that she'd been thinking about how much she wanted Steve to like them rather than whether they knew enough to trust him. Chloe smiled at the admission and told her that was precisely why they needed each other in this conversation.

Sofia waited until Chloe seemed comfortable again before explaining why she'd been unusually quiet. The discussion had reminded her of a relationship she'd rarely described in detail, even to the women she loved. Before meeting any of them, she'd lived with someone for almost three years and believed she'd found a partner she understood completely. She'd been proud of recognizing when her girlfriend was tired, worried about work, or needed somebody to listen. Gradually, that ability had become the organizing principle of their relationship, and Sofia had spent more and more time making sure everything was comfortable for the woman she loved. She'd been good at it, which was part of why she hadn't noticed what was happening.

“I kept doing things because I could see she needed them, and eventually I stopped noticing whether I needed anything myself,” Sofia said. “She wasn't cruel, and that almost made it harder to understand. When I finally told her I was unhappy, she was genuinely surprised, because I'd spent years making sure our relationship worked beautifully from her side. I'd become so good at anticipating everything that there was never any reason for her to learn how to take care of me.” Chloe squeezed her fingers, remembering how devastated Sofia had been when the relationship ended. Sofia looked around at the others before continuing. “So when I think about Steve, I'm not especially frightened that he'll demand too much from us. I'm frightened that I'll decide he needs something and start providing it before anybody asks, because that's something I know I'm capable of doing.”

Tori had listened closely, and now she reminded Sofia of a conversation they'd witnessed at Blush. Steve had asked why she continued cutting hair when she already owned the salon, and Sofia had explained that she loved the actual work. Instead of wondering why she bothered, he'd said it would be strange to build a business around something you enjoyed and then become too successful to be allowed to do it. Sofia remembered the conversation but hadn't realized the others were paying attention. Tori pointed out that her startled reaction had been difficult to miss, particularly because she'd exclaimed loudly enough to make people at the next table look over. Sofia laughed at the memory, then grew thoughtful as she considered what Steve's answer suggested about the way he listened.

Nat leaned forward, clearly eager to contribute something of her own before the conversation became too solemn. She reminded them of Rachel's breakup at Blush on Friday night and asked whether everyone had noticed the woman who'd walked away. They remembered the cream leather jacket, the way Rachel had been crying, and Steve's decision to stop and offer company to a stranger. Nat pointed out that Rachel's former girlfriend had been exactly the sort of woman they might have considered safe if they'd met her socially, while Steve had been the unexpected person who stayed to help. She knew perfectly well that women could hurt other women, just as she knew men weren't automatically untrustworthy. What mattered was learning who Steve actually was rather than assuming his gender answered the question for them.

Chloe considered that carefully. She didn't want to dismiss what had happened to her in college, but she also didn't want to make Steve responsible for another man's behavior. She could remain cautious without treating him unfairly, and she could allow herself to enjoy his company without promising him anything. Sofia seemed to reach the same conclusion, because she squeezed Chloe's hand and smiled. Maddie looked relieved that nobody appeared to be planning a permanent prohibition on Steve, although she had enough sense not to announce that interpretation aloud. That restraint lasted perhaps thirty seconds before she began looking impatiently toward Tori.

Meanwhile, Steve was making risotto. He'd bought the ingredients that morning, and now he stood at the stove with a wooden spoon in one hand and a saucepan of warm stock within easy reach. Risotto required enough attention to prevent him from wandering back to his phone every thirty seconds, which was useful under the circumstances. Dennis occupied a strategic position beside the pepper grinder, overseeing the operation with the grave expression Maddie had given him. Steve informed the accountant that he was making entirely too much food for one person and would be eating leftovers on Monday, then returned to stirring while his thoughts drifted back to what he'd learned that afternoon.

His research had changed something he wasn't sure he could change back. He'd gone to Blush expecting a beer and perhaps the opportunity to prove Brittney wrong about how predictable his life had become. Instead he'd met five women who welcomed him into their evening with an ease that still surprised him. He'd enjoyed their company, exchanged jokes, and discovered that he genuinely wanted to see them again. Until Sunday, he'd been comfortable describing that as making new friends, even if he spent rather more time thinking about those friends than seemed entirely reasonable. Now he understood enough about their relationship to recognize that friendship wasn't the whole of what he'd been imagining.

The women had built something remarkable together. Their relationship appeared to work because each of them had spent years learning how to love the others, including the awkward parts nobody advertised when describing romance. Steve knew enough about complicated projects to recognize that successful arrangements usually required more effort than outsiders understood. He suspected they had disagreements, compromises, and an extraordinary number of conversations about things that seemed perfectly obvious until someone disagreed. The fact that they could argue about nonsense one minute and comfort one another the next suggested a familiarity he found deeply appealing. He wanted to know what ordinary days looked like with them, beyond the excitement of Friday night at Blush and the conversations that followed.

There was one rather substantial complication. Nat had told him their relationship was closed, and he'd accepted that without considering what it might mean to him personally. At the time, he'd been relieved that nobody seemed interested in pursuing him romantically, because he'd already spent enough time explaining that he was a man. Now he kept remembering the word closed and wondering why it bothered him. Their relationship was complete without him, and they'd never suggested otherwise. He had no reason to imagine they were looking for anyone else, much less someone who didn't fit their established attraction to women.

Steve added another ladle of stock and watched the rice absorb it. He could picture himself sitting at their table again, listening while Maddie argued with Tori and Nat encouraged the argument simply to see how long it lasted. He imagined Sofia smiling at something Chloe had said and felt the same warmth he'd experienced watching them at Blush. The thought of being welcomed into those ordinary moments appealed to him more than any fantasy of a dramatic romance. He wanted the familiarity they had with one another, the confidence that somebody would notice when he arrived, and the pleasure of knowing he belonged there. When he finally admitted how much he wanted that, he stopped stirring long enough for the rice to threaten to stick.

He hadn't expected to develop feelings for five women he'd known for barely two days. He could hardly pretend that was a sensible development, particularly when none of them had suggested their friendship might become anything else. He wondered whether the intensity was merely the excitement of meeting people who made him feel unusually welcome. Perhaps another week would reduce the whole thing to a pleasant memory and a few embarrassing daydreams, and he'd return to being perfectly satisfied with his predictable life. Yet the thought of watching them drift away bothered him far more than he wanted to admit. He'd enjoyed being included, and he was beginning to suspect that being included wasn't enough.

The problem was that wanting something didn't give him any right to ask for it. He'd known these women for two days, and they had spent years making their relationship work. He could imagine how uncomfortable it might be if a new acquaintance decided he'd like to become an additional partner simply because everyone had enjoyed a couple of pleasant evenings together. Worse, he could picture the gentle way they'd probably explain that they weren't interested, because they seemed like exactly the sort of people who would try to spare his feelings even when they had every right to say no. Steve didn't want his feelings to become an obligation they had to manage. He picked up the spoon again and concentrated on the risotto, although concentrating seemed to have become considerably more difficult.

“I really don't know what I'm doing here, Dennis,” Steve admitted, glancing at the folded napkin. “I seem to have developed feelings for five women who already have a relationship, and I've somehow managed to do it without even going on a date. I suspect that's an achievement of some kind, although probably not one I'd put on a résumé.” Dennis maintained his professional silence, which Steve appreciated under the circumstances. He'd come to expect very little practical advice from a fictional accountant whose qualifications existed entirely in Maddie's imagination. At least the little horse had the courtesy not to offer relationship advice when he had no idea what he was talking about.

Back at Nat's apartment, Tori had been listening while the others discussed what they'd learned about Steve. She thought they had enough agreement to consider a next step, although she wasn't interested in rushing anyone. Chloe could see that her own concerns had been heard, and Sofia's story had given them another reason to proceed carefully. Nat seemed content to wait for Tori to speak rather than reaching for her phone again. Maddie, however, had been waiting for a decision since approximately three minutes after raising the question, and her patience had reached the limits of what nature intended.

“I think we're in a position to consider something useful,” Tori began. “We like Steve, we're attracted to him, and we all seem interested in spending more time together. We don't know whether he'd want anything beyond friendship, and it would be unfair to make plans for him without asking. What we can do is invite him to spend time with us and be honest about why we're interested.” Maddie raised her head immediately and asked whether Tori was finally suggesting a date. Tori smiled and confirmed that she was, although she warned them that dating someone didn't require deciding the rest of their lives in advance. They could begin by seeing whether Steve enjoyed their company outside a bar and whether they liked him as much when the novelty of meeting him wore off.

Sofia considered the suggestion before asking how they would explain the relationship he might be entering. She didn't want him imagining he was dating five women independently when they already had a complicated history together. Tori agreed that he needed to understand what they were exploring and what they weren't prepared to promise. “We should be honest with him about our relationship, and we need to be equally honest with one another when something bothers us,” she explained. “Nobody should spend weeks wondering whether everybody else knows something she doesn't, and nobody should feel obliged to hide her concerns because they're inconvenient. We've managed difficult conversations before, and I don't see why we'd suddenly stop being capable of them.”

Nat leaned back against the sofa and asked whether they were proposing to open their relationship. Tori shook her head, explaining that she wanted to consider expanding it to include Steve specifically rather than beginning to date other people generally. Chloe appreciated the distinction, particularly because it meant they weren't promising anyone a place in their lives before they'd had a chance to discover whether he belonged there. Sofia asked what would happen if they spent time with him and concluded that it didn't work. Tori answered that they'd still be five women who loved one another, perhaps disappointed but no less committed to the life they'd built. She'd rather risk that disappointment than make promises nobody yet knew whether they could keep.

“Then I'd like to hear a clear answer from each of you,” Tori said, settling back in her chair. “We're agreeing to find out whether a relationship with Steve could work, and that means being honest about our feelings, respecting his decisions, and taking care of one another while we explore it. If someone isn't comfortable, I want her to say so rather than agree because everyone else seems enthusiastic.” Maddie immediately declared that she was extremely comfortable, although she reserved the right to become dramatically uncomfortable if Dennis discovered they were planning dates without consulting him. Tori thanked her for the contribution and informed her that Dennis was not a party to the decision. Maddie looked wounded by the exclusion but promised to explain it to the accountant gently.

Nat was next, and her answer came without the usual performance. She wanted to give the idea a genuine chance, and she'd rather approach it together than rush ahead and leave the others to manage the consequences. Sofia agreed, although she admitted that her fears wouldn't disappear simply because she'd decided to be brave. She wanted to keep talking about the things that troubled her, particularly if she noticed herself slipping into familiar habits. Tori accepted both answers with obvious satisfaction before turning toward Chloe, who'd spent the afternoon explaining why this mattered so much to her.

Chloe looked around at the women she loved. They'd taken her worries seriously, and nobody had asked her to stop being cautious or pretend she'd overcome years of experience in a single afternoon. She could feel Maddie's arm around her shoulders and Sofia's fingers intertwined with hers. Nat had moved closer, and Tori was watching patiently from the armchair. Saying yes wouldn't mean choosing Steve over any of them, because the women were offering to explore the possibility together. Chloe understood that there might be difficult moments ahead, but she trusted them enough to face those moments rather than refuse the possibility entirely.

“Yes,” Chloe told Tori. “I'd like to try. I'm still frightened, and I expect I'll spend a ridiculous amount of time worrying about things that haven't happened, but I want to know him better. I think I'd regret refusing the possibility simply because I couldn't guarantee how it would turn out.” Tori smiled with obvious relief and looked around at the others. “Then we agree. We'll ask Steve whether he'd be interested in dating us, and we'll make sure he understands we're exploring a possibility rather than offering promises about where it will lead.”

Maddie was delighted that the discussion had finally produced an actual decision. She announced that Dennis would need to be informed immediately, since he'd already demonstrated a substantial professional interest in Steve's domestic affairs. Tori reminded her that the accountant had no authority over their romantic decisions, which Maddie considered unnecessarily discriminatory toward imaginary financial professionals. Nat suggested that the first step should probably involve something ordinary, like coffee, rather than presenting Steve with an elaborate proposal. Sofia agreed, and Chloe found herself laughing as the women began arguing about whether coffee counted as a sufficiently romantic invitation.

The discussion was still underway when Sofia asked whether they could address something else before contacting him. She remembered Maddie's earlier comments about anatomy and the assumptions people made about strangers, particularly during their conversations with Steve at Blush. Steve had been very clear that he was a man, and Sofia wanted to make sure they respected that without allowing their curiosity to become something he had to manage. Chloe could see that Sofia was choosing her words carefully, which usually meant the subject mattered deeply to her. The others stopped arguing about coffee when they noticed her expression.

“There's something we haven't discussed,” Sofia said. “We've all noticed that Steve doesn't necessarily fit what we expected when we first met him, and I don't want us turning that into an excuse to invent explanations about him. Maddie made a good point earlier about anatomy not deciding whether somebody is a woman, but that doesn't mean we get to decide anything about Steve either.” Nat considered the remark before asking whether Sofia was wondering if he might be trans. Sofia admitted that the possibility had crossed her mind, although she didn't think wondering gave her permission to treat it as a fact. She reminded them that he'd been very clear about being a man, and that was the answer they needed to respect unless he chose to tell them something different.

Tori agreed without hesitation. She'd known enough people who'd been subjected to strangers explaining their identities to them, and she didn't want Steve dealing with that from anyone in their relationship. If he ever wanted to discuss something personal, they could listen, but she wasn't interested in dropping hints or encouraging him to answer questions he hadn't asked. Chloe thought about Brittney and Liz, who'd spent years giving Steve room to discover himself without attempting to force an answer. She understood the temptation to imagine how things might develop, particularly now that the women were considering a relationship with him, but she wanted him to feel comfortable rather than examined. Sofia seemed relieved that everyone understood, although Maddie was already looking thoughtful about another possibility.

“If he ever wants to explore something different, do you think he'd come to you?” Maddie asked Sofia. “I mean for his hair, or makeup, or something like that. You'd be wonderful with him, and I think he'd actually listen when you explained what would work.” Sofia smiled at the compliment but reminded her that the first thing she'd ask Steve in her salon chair was what he wanted. She'd offer advice, as she did with every client, but she wouldn't make assumptions about what he ought to look like. Nat immediately asked whether that generous policy would survive a request for a truly terrible haircut. Sofia assured her that she'd explain exactly why it was a bad idea, describe how long it would take to grow out, and then let him decide whether he still wanted it.

Tori suggested they leave the subject alone unless Steve brought it up himself. They had enough to discover about him without inventing additional questions he hadn't asked them to answer. Maddie accepted that, although she immediately announced that she was considerably more interested in discovering whether he could cook. She claimed he seemed like the sort of man who made excellent risotto, which Nat regarded as an astonishing leap of logic. When challenged to explain her conclusion, Maddie informed them that Dennis had assured her Steve possessed excellent domestic instincts. Tori pointed out that a fictional accountant was unlikely to have professional qualifications in culinary assessment, but Maddie maintained that a Pegasus with a business degree could reasonably be expected to understand the importance of proper nutrition. The argument eventually dissolved into laughter, leaving everyone considerably more relaxed than they'd been when the afternoon began.

Steve's risotto turned out beautifully, which he considered faintly insulting after the amount of emotional turmoil he'd endured while preparing it. He ate a generous bowl standing at the counter, stored the leftovers, and washed the saucepan before it developed a crust that would require actual effort to remove. Dennis remained beside the pepper grinder throughout the operation, looking as though he approved of a man who understood the importance of maintaining orderly accounts. Steve dried his hands and looked toward his phone, which had remained suspiciously quiet. He'd spent part of the afternoon making a list of things he remembered about the women, and now he was trying to decide whether sending any of them would be a terrible idea.

He couldn't tell them what he'd been thinking about their relationship. He barely understood it himself, and an unsolicited declaration about wanting to become part of a closed polycule would probably qualify as the least appropriate text message in the history of modern communication. What he could do was tell each woman that he'd enjoyed meeting her. He wanted them to know he'd been listening to their conversations, rather than merely enjoying the attention he'd received from a group of attractive women. He picked up his phone and opened Maddie's conversation first, determined to find something small and genuine to say.

He'd found a photograph earlier that afternoon of a figure crossing a snowy street beneath a yellow light. Something about it reminded him of Maddie's bus-stop photograph, particularly the way a single warm color transformed an otherwise cold scene. He'd also saved a photograph of a little bird named WREN, standing its ground against a much larger bird on a porch rail. The bird's sheer determination reminded him of Maddie, who would probably have challenged something ten times her size without giving it a second thought. He sent her both photographs, explaining the connection to her artwork and adding that WREN seemed to share her approach to life. Then he opened Tori's conversation and forwarded a reference to quarantine regulations that he'd discovered while researching the possible legal complications of transporting Dennis across international borders. He pointed out that the regulations failed to address winged horses, which he considered a potentially significant loophole for a determined fictional accountant. Both messages felt like natural continuations of the conversations they'd enjoyed at Blush.

Nat received a thread about an unfortunate man whose relationship had ended through a shared spreadsheet. Steve considered it sufficiently self-explanatory that he offered no commentary, trusting her to recognize why he'd sent it. For Sofia, he found an amusing discussion about what people did with furniture acquired during relationships they later regretted. He told her he thought she should have been allowed to choose her own sofa, particularly since the relationship that had saddled her with it hadn't lasted long enough to justify the inconvenience. He hoped she'd appreciate the joke, but he also meant the sympathy behind it. She'd told that story with enough humor that he suspected the sofa had become something she could laugh about, even if she'd probably been furious when it happened.

Chloe was more difficult. Steve had enjoyed talking with her in a way that still made him nervous to remember, and he wanted his message to be thoughtful without accidentally turning it into a declaration. Earlier that afternoon he'd read about violets and their historical association with women expressing affection for other women. He'd loved the idea of a small gesture carrying a meaning that only two people understood, particularly when the wider world hadn't made it easy for them to express themselves openly. He wrote a message explaining what he'd discovered and why it had reminded him of their conversation, then spent several minutes wondering whether the last sentence sounded foolish. In the end, he sent it because she'd seemed interested in the history of those things, and he wanted to share something he thought she'd enjoy.

By the time he'd finished, Steve felt both pleased with himself and vaguely terrified. He'd sent five messages that were individually harmless, but together they represented a considerable amount of attention directed toward people he'd only recently met. He hoped the women would see them as friendly gestures rather than evidence that he'd become unreasonably attached. He opened the group chat and began writing something about looking forward to Friday, then hesitated when he realized how much he wanted to see them sooner. After staring at the message for several seconds, he left it unsent and put his phone down beside Dennis. He told himself that restraint was an admirable quality, even if his inability to stop thinking about the message suggested he was struggling to practice it.

Back at Nat's apartment, the women had begun discussing where they might meet Steve for coffee. Sofia pointed out that they didn't know his schedule, while Nat insisted there were plenty of places open after work. Tori reminded them that they could simply ask him instead of constructing increasingly elaborate hypothetical arrangements. Chloe watched the familiar argument develop and found herself smiling. She'd spent much of the afternoon fearing that the possibility of Steve would change everything about their relationship, but here they were, arguing about coffee shops as though they'd been doing it for years. She was beginning to believe they could explore something new without losing the comfortable affection that made their life together work.

Nat finally picked up her phone and found Steve's message waiting. She read the description of a relationship-ending spreadsheet and laughed so abruptly that everyone turned toward her. When she explained what he'd sent, Sofia reached for her own phone, followed almost immediately by Maddie. The room filled with little sounds of surprise as each woman discovered that Steve had chosen something meant specifically for her. Tori read the regulations he'd forwarded and began smiling despite her best efforts to maintain composure. She announced that he'd found a potential loophole involving federal livestock quarantine, which suggested Dennis had acquired an unusually dedicated legal representative.

Maddie had gone quiet after opening the photograph Steve sent her. She held the phone close to her chest, smiling in a way that suggested she wasn't particularly interested in sharing the moment with the others. Sofia read the discussion about unwanted sofas and laughed, remembering how irritated she'd been with the furniture she'd inherited from an unsuccessful relationship. Nat was still examining her spreadsheet thread, delighted that Steve had remembered the story. Chloe waited until everyone else had finished before opening her own message, partly because she wanted to enjoy whatever he'd sent without an audience leaning over her shoulder. She suspected he'd found something about history, although she hadn't expected the thoughtfulness of what she discovered.

Steve had written about violets and the women who'd used flowers to communicate feelings they couldn't easily express in public. He explained that he'd thought of Chloe while reading about the custom, and that he'd wanted to tell her because it seemed like something she'd appreciate. The message was thoughtful without demanding anything in return, which mattered after the story she'd told the others earlier. Chloe read it again, remembering how he'd listened when she'd talked about history, and felt an unexpected warmth spread through her chest. She'd spent much of Sunday worrying about whether he would fit into their lives, and here he was quietly demonstrating that he'd already begun learning what mattered to them. When Maddie asked what he'd sent, Chloe smiled and told her it was a story about flowers, one she'd never expected him to remember.

Maddie announced that she intended to become unbearable about the photograph, which Nat suggested would be difficult to distinguish from her usual behavior. Tori was still examining the quarantine regulations when Sofia asked whether anyone else had noticed how Steve seemed to remember the smallest details from their conversations. Nat reminded her that he'd managed to turn an unfortunate romantic breakup into a spreadsheet joke, which she considered a considerable achievement. Chloe didn't contribute much to the discussion. She was still looking at the violets, wondering whether Steve had any idea how much the message meant to her after the conversation she'd had that afternoon.

The argument was still developing when all five phones lit up almost simultaneously.

Steve: Is it weird that Friday feels really far away?

Across town, Steve had lasted almost eleven minutes on the sofa before deciding he couldn't stand looking at the unsent message any longer. He'd gone back into the kitchen, picked up his phone, and read it several times, trying to decide whether wanting to see his new friends sooner was an ordinary thing to admit. Eventually he'd pressed send before he could invent another reason to hesitate. The message was harmless, he told himself, and people said things like that all the time. He was reasonably certain of it, although the way his heart was beating suggested his body had reached a less reassuring conclusion.

“Well, Dennis, I've done it,” Steve said, putting the phone on the counter. “I've told five women I met Friday night that I'd rather see them sooner than next Friday. I don't believe there's anything particularly scandalous about that, although I'm sure you'll explain the potential liability once you've consulted your professional advisers.” Dennis offered no opinion, which Steve appreciated under the circumstances. He watched the screen for a moment before deciding that staring at it wasn't helping. Then the typing indicator appeared, and he recognized Tori's name.

The indicator disappeared almost immediately, returned a moment later, and vanished again. Steve tried not to imagine what sort of response required that much reconsideration, particularly from somebody who usually seemed capable of making decisions without needing to consult a committee. He'd been prepared for a joke from Nat, a dramatic response from Maddie, or perhaps a polite assurance that Friday would arrive soon enough. Instead Tori appeared to be taking his message seriously, which made him nervous in an entirely different way. He was considering putting the phone down again when her reply finally appeared.

Tori: We don't have to wait until Friday, Steve. Would you like to meet all of us for coffee on Monday after work?

Steve read the invitation twice, hardly believing something he'd wanted so badly could arrive in such an ordinary message. Tori had offered him another evening with all five women, and she hadn't made it sound like a favor or an obligation. He thought about the hours he'd spent wondering whether he'd imagined how welcome he'd felt at Blush. Whatever the women were thinking, they wanted to see him again, and that was enough for the moment. He glanced toward Dennis, who remained beside the pepper grinder with his usual stern expression, and found himself smiling as he typed his reply.

Steve: Yes.

Thanks for joining Tim and Allison in a perfectly sensible arrangement between two adults who should know better. Allison has the plan and the credit card. Tim keeps finding ways to improve the specifications. Neither seems concerned that they're enjoying the assignment this much.

One of the pleasures of sharing a story here is finding out what readers recognize in it, sometimes in places I hadn't expected. If a moment felt familiar or gave you something to think about, I'd love to hear from you in the comments. You can also find me at https://www.patreon.com/c/crazystupidstories(link is external), where memberships help support the writing and give readers early access to the regular weekly serials. Friends of the Stories read one week ahead, while Patrons read two weeks ahead and get exclusive features and specials. I hope you'll come spend some time with us there, and I'm happy you're reading here too.