Kiera's Moon

"We're getting married!"

"Wh … bu… ah …" Kiera stuttered. "But … you've only known each other for three months! It takes you longer to plan a dinner party, Evey!"

Evelyn laughed. Stunned, Kiera tried to figure out what to say as they both looked expectantly at her.

"Well, what do you think?" Evelyn prodded.

Evelyn had been so happy the past few months, and having Romas around was not that bad. After all, he could fix things around the house that she and Evelyn ignored.

"I think it's really neat," she said. "When are you getting hitched?"

"Saturday."

"Saturday when?"

"This Saturday."

"In two days?" she asked. "Wow. That's … wow! Well, congrats!"

Evelyn looked ready to burst. Kiera found she truly was happy for her, though her own happiness was clouded by a sense of sadness and yearning. She'd known Evelyn since they were in elementary school, and she'd been renting a room from her for the past two years since graduating high school. She didn't want to lose the friend she regarded as a sister.

"Oh, but wait!" she exclaimed. "You won't kick me out?"

"Not if you behave," Romas said.

"Of course not! We're a package deal, right, Romas?" Evelyn grinned. He said nothing. Kiera frowned, concerned by his silence.

"You really don't like me, Romas?" she asked.

"You're tolerable," was the response. Kiera stared at him. He winked with a faint smile, and she relaxed.

"Because I know how alpha males like you work," she retorted. "You'll have everything of Evelyn's put in your name and lock her in her bathroom or something."

"The bathroom is big enough for both of you," Romas said.

"Well, congrats anyway," she said with a sigh. And she smiled, happy for her friend and not too unhappy with her choice of husband-to-be. The couple gave each other another heated look, and she wolfed down her food before leaving them in peace.

An hour later, she dismounted her bike and leaned it against the brick front of the art gallery where her work was displayed. The quaint streets of Pacific Grove were quiet during the weekday, with a small group of women lingering in the midmorning sun at the café on the corner.

"Kevin!" she called as she entered the quiet art gallery. From the outside, it looked like the other small mom-and-pop stores lining the street. Inside, the first and second levels had been combined to create a large, tall space whose walls and ceilings were lined with paintings. She maneuvered through sculptures and other exhibits on the floor to the small office in the back.