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closest straight female friends. Shoot, only Cat held it all too tight in—she was nearly a novitiate, and mostly because she was a workaholic. Luz could catcall a man like nobody’s business and Gabi, damn. Gabi had been one of Magda’s first post-closet conquests but now was simply a dear friend who knew her all too well. And shit, that girl could talk about pleasuring men in graphic detail, without a stutter. Not that Magda ever wanted to hear about that.
    “Ugh.” Kristina knew her warnings fell on deaf ears. Magda, just like many of the men in the room, thought with what was between her legs. She savored her plan to text Paloma later, wrapped her arm around her friend, and led her to the door. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 3
    “N ow . . . do me a favor—be nice!” commanded a sunny-faced woman—bronzed, crowned with black curls, wearing red lipstick, a flowing dress, and Spanish shawl. Boho chic.
    “I’m always nice,” Magda responded in a flat, tongue-in-cheek tone. She and her former girlfriend, Gabi, a Puerto Rican, Ivy League–educated psychotherapist, were finding their seats in a large event room, decorated tastefully but unremarkably in fund-raising-dinner style. An unoffensive flower arrangement sat in the middle, glasses and utensils outnumbered anything else in the room, and circles of tables were surrounded by gold-painted bamboo chairs.
    It was six years ago at Magda’s front of center table for her largest philanthropic effort, the Sol Fund, directed toward environmentally friendly urban planning. Gabi was also Magda’s former partner of two years and was just starting up her media persona, landing multiple TV guest spots and named in influential media outlets as an expert in her field. But her time with Magda came after living her life never having dated a woman, or even entertaining the idea that it was a possibility. Her traditional background had no room for it. But after a bad breakup with another long-term boyfriend, Magda had swept in a few years ago and rescued her mind, won her heart, and loved her body in a way she’d never experienced. Yet, after one too many nights spent trying to talk sense into a drunk, one-a.m.-just-getting-home-Magda, smelling of other women’s perfume, Gabi had to leave. But she never left Magda as a friend. Gabi’s love for her and understanding of the self-destructive pain that was her propane kept her around, but platonically. Besides, Gabi was a problem-solver, a therapist extraordinaire. She wasn’t going to let this “problem” get away from her until she was fixed.
    “Watch that belly,” said Magda as Gabi squeezed her wide hips onto her seat, the bump of her pregnant stomach barely noticeable as it brushed the edge of the table.
    “ Ay, I’m fine.” Gabi swatted Magda’s concern away.
    A mass of fellow dinner-goers milled around them, everyone looking for table numbers, sparkling in gowns, jewelry jangling, judging whom they wanted to commit to making small talk with for the next two hours.
    “Why’d you have to go and have his baby?” Magda whined playfully. “Why not my baby?”
    “Mags . . . Stop it.” Gabi raised her hand to stop the flow of sass coming from her ex. “I’m happy, okay? You know I want this baby more than anything . . .” As she trailed off, Magda raised an eyebrow at her in defiance. Gabi took in air, ready to chastise her jealous former lover, but was interrupted, catching the eye line of one of her guests, an up-and-coming television producer.
    “Hey, chica! Come, come!” Gabi’s face radiated welcome like an electric stovetop.
    “Hi!” Her guest, Cat, was on “low” compared to Gabi’s “high.” She was nervous. This was her first big fund-raising dinner and was a bit intimidated by what she’d read up on Magda, a publicly gay woman, who was nearly a tycoon. Cat was amazed, even more so once she shook her hand and felt just how captivating she was.
    “ Un placer. ” Magda gave Cat a nudge