A Woman Lost by T. B. Markinson Page A

to turn around to know it was Maddie. I knew it by her voice, and besides, she was the only one who knew my bike challenge secret.
    “Really well, actually. How’s the new job?” I slowly turned around and gazed into those beautiful blue eyes. It had been weeks since we had seen or spoken to each other.
    “I love the job. They’re starting to trust me with my own projects.” She paused. “How far did you ride? You’re dripping in sweat.”
    Neither of us mentioned how odd it was that she’d showed up outside of my apartment. She’d never been here before. How did she find out where I lived? I wasn’t sure she had forgiven me yet for the conversation we had at our last meetings. I hoped both of us could forget the incident.
    “I had a lot of energy, so I went longer than normal. I rode to LaPorte and back.” I tugged at my T-shirt, which was sticking to my skin. “Geez, look at me‌—‌I’m a mess! Do you want to come in? I’m dying for a hot shower. You can hang out while I get cleaned up.”
    “That sounds nice. Hope you don’t mind, but I won’t hug you until you shower.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “Stinky.”
    “Smelly McGee, that’s me.”
    As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. What had compelled me to make such a nincompoop out of myself?
    Maddie snapped her head up to eyeball me. “Oh, wow. That’s pretty dorky, even for you. I wouldn’t suggest trying that one on the ladies.” She snickered.
    “Come on, smartass.” I led her up the flight of stairs to my apartment, searching for my pride with each step.
    “Is Sarah home?” Maddie asked.
    Had she sensed my embarrassment and wanted to divert the conversation away from my gaffe?
    I laughed, feeling more at ease. “She doesn’t officially live with me. But no, she isn’t here right now. She and her mom are bonding today. They’re having breakfast, and then they’ll shop till they drop. They are definitely shoppers. When I go with them, I have to take energy shots just to keep up.”
    “Two women after my own heart. You don’t like to shop?”
    “I prefer to have someone else do it for me.”
    “So you always have a girlfriend to take care of you?”
    “You’re spunky today.”
    We walked into my apartment. She looked around and said, “Not what I was expecting.”
    “Really? What did you think my apartment would look like?”
    “I wasn’t expecting a feminine touch.” She gestured to the fresh flowers and candles on the table.
    “Thanks‌—‌I think.” I fiddled with my hoop earring.
    “I mean you aren’t a bull dyke or anything.” She laughed. “But you aren’t super fem either.” Color flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I tend to put my foot in it. To be honest, when I met you, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Peter doesn’t have any photos of you and you don’t come up during family gatherings. I thought you were a raving feminist and all of them were embarrassed by you. I was taken aback when you walked up to the table, looking normal, like a female version of Peter. But you were wearing makeup. I had envisioned a woman with a shaved head and covered in tattoos.” She stepped from side to side nervously.
    I watched her eyes wander over every crevice.
    “Don’t tell Peter that we look alike,” I warned.
    “Oh, I won’t!”
    She turned back to me. “I thought you would have a very sterile apartment. No unnecessary items. No personal touches.” She motioned to photos of Sarah and I on the mantle.
    It was my turn to blush. “I can’t take the credit for the personal touches or for the flowers. Sarah loves to decorate. She has a fetish for fresh flowers and Yankee Candles. I can’t even guess how much she spends each week on them.” I chuckled. “I swear, as soon as she started staying the night, she began putting her mark on my place. And maybe she didn’t like the smell. I have to admit, I do like the smell of the clean cotton candle.”
    We stared at each other,