It was unsettling, receiving advice about relationships from someone who actually understood how to make them last.

  “What’s her name?” Heather asked.

  “Victoria Willoughby.”

  Recognition dawned slowly on each of their faces.

  Heather spoke first. “Justice Victoria Willoughby?”

  “Damn, girl. You’re dating a Supreme Court justice?” Crystal clapped her on the back.

  “And now we get to the bad news,” Genevieve said. “I can no longer argue your case at the Supreme Court.”

  After a beat, their faces fell. Crystal sat next to her wife, who wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Does this mean—” Crystal’s voice wavered.

  Heather seemed more in control of her emotions. Understandable, Genevieve thought, considering her parental rights regarding the children would always be secure. “Do we lose now?”

  “No, not at all,” Genevieve rushed to reassure them. “Honestly, it probably means very little for the outcome of the case. We just need to find you new counsel. In many ways, it’s just a technicality—the case record we’ve developed still stands, and the justices will read all of it.”

  “You can’t just, like, pretend you’re not dating her?” Heather asked.

  Crystal rested her hand on Heather’s thigh. “That seems highly unethical and like something Genevieve would never do.”

  Genevieve shook her head. “Even if I wanted to, there’s a photo. And some television interviews in which Victoria doesn’t deny it.”

  She polished off the wine and briefly considered breaking out the scotch. If she wasn’t careful, this whole situation could easily lead to a drinking problem. “I flew you here because I want to talk with you about who could argue the case, and, if we decide on someone, introduce you so you can get started. December fifth seems far away now, but I promise it will sneak up on all of you. I want to make sure you’re in good hands.”

  Crystal rubbed her eyes. “I’m sure there’s some joke to be made about how good you are with your hands, Genevieve, but I’m too tired to make it.”

  “Let’s talk through your options,” Genevieve said, as she walked to the one of the bookcases and extracted a binder she’d spent the week putting together.

  It was remarkably hard to replace herself, both emotionally and logistically. She sat on the couch next to Crystal, who spread the binder across her lap and Heather’s.

  “I wouldn’t recommend a private-sector attorney—they’re too expensive, for one. Plus, they’re always pulled in multiple directions and don’t necessarily have a background in human rights litigation.

  “My first thought was Jamie Chance,” she said, flipping to the first page of the binder. “But honestly, he’s got a full plate right now, and he’s better at fundraising and strategizing cases than actually arguing them.”

  She flipped through the binder, publicity photos of men and women in suits staring back at them, and evaluated the candidates. There, in the middle, was Penelope Sweet, gorgeous as ever, with eyes that seemed to cut through all of Genevieve’s BS.

  She was going to try to present the options neutrally, but after spending the week researching profiles, who was she kidding? Penelope was the strongest candidate out there.

  When she reached the end of the binder, Genevieve asked, “Do you want time to discuss without me?”

  Heather laughed. “That’s ridiculous. We don’t need to confer alone. Please, stay and help us decide.”

  “Yeah, I want to know who you’d pick, if it were up to you,” Crystal said. “I know you have opinions.”

  “Exactly—I don’t know the first thing about these people or why to pick one over the other. Actually, if the last thing you can do on this case is help us find a new lawyer, please just tell us who to choose.”

  Genevieve took a deep breath and angled herself to see her friends better. “There’s no one on this list better suited to represent you than Penelope Sweet.”

  “Is that the one from NCLR?” Crystal flipped through the binder until she landed on the right page. “Don’t you, like, compete with them or something?”

  “It’s complicated,” Genevieve admitted. “Yes, there’s a history of competition between our organizations—mine, NCLR, and HRC. But Penelope and I are both pretty new to these organizations, and we’re trying to collaborate now. I think NCLR would provide great support for you two, and Penelope would put forward excellent oral arguments. And also, because she and I are friendly, I can continue to help develop arguments behind the scenes—I won’t have to walk away from the case completely.”

  Heather studied the photo. “Her eyes look smart.”

  Swatting at her, Crystal laughed. “You’re ridiculous—that doesn’t even make sense. If you think she’s hot, just say it.”

  “She’s hot, for sure,” Heather said. “But I meant it; she’s sharp and, I don’t know, curious? I can tell from the photo that I like her.”

  Oddly relieved, Genevieve leaned back in her seat and studied the two of them for a moment. Their shoulders were touching, and as they pored over the fact sheet, they adjusted their eyeglasses with identical gestures. It was sweet, and Genevieve felt keenly how much she’d missed her childhood friend. Yet another reason she wished she was going to be their lawyer this fall—it would give them a chance to spend time together.

  “I’ll set up a meeting with Penelope, then?” Genevieve asked.

  Crystal’s expression fell, and she slumped against her wife’s side. Wrapping a protective arm around her, Heather said, “I guess so. This feels so weird, though. Like we’re firing you or something.”

  Not that she would ever say it out loud, but Genevieve wholeheartedly agreed. “Let’s not focus on that right now. I’ll figure out Penelope’s availability, and we’ll go from there.” She stood and wiped her hands on her pants. “You two have had a long day and some big news. Let’s get some sleep, and then tomorrow we can do something a lot more fun than this. Drive around looking at monuments—that’s something little kids enjoy, right?”

  Heather and Crystal looked at each other and laughed. “People without kids say the darnedest things, don’t they?” Crystal said.

  Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Fine. I think there’s a zoo somewhere. Does that work?”

  “Now you’re talking,” Heather said, as she carried the empty wine glasses into the kitchen.

  Crystal took Genevieve’s hands. “You’ve already done so much to help us. I promise I’ll be appropriately curious about your new relationship tomorrow.”

  They hugged again, and Genevieve said softly, “I wish things were different.”

  She felt rather than heard Crystal’s small laugh.

  “I wish we didn’t have to sue the government in the first place.”

  Chapter 13

  The next Friday, when Penelope breezed through the door of The Three Branches for their meeting, she was speaking before she’d even sat down.

  “I want to strategize with you two about the same-sex parentage case, but this is uncharted territory for me. Genevieve, can you discuss the case or is that some breach of ethics?”

  “I think so—that we can discuss it, I mean. If I don’t tell Tori what we talk about, and she doesn’t tell me what she thinks about the case… I don’t know. The whole thing is messed up, and there aren’t clear rules set down on paper for this situation.”

  Jamie nodded. “Exactly. I think you are all upstanding, ethical people. Follow your instincts and don’t do anything you think is questionable, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  They all ordered burgers, and then Penelope jumped right in.

  “Okay, so, the other side wrote in their briefs that marriage rights aren’t coterminous with parental rights and that children can only have a mother and a father.”

  “Here’s my thing,” Jamie cut in. “What’s the state proposing as an alternative in this situation? There are two kids—real, breathing kids—who need to live someplace.”

  “No one’s suggesting taking the kids out of the home,” Genevieve said. “As long as their birth mother is alive and lives with them, everything’s fine. So, in a sense, if Crystal and Heather were fine living with the risk, they could do nothing here and hope for the best. But if something were to happen to Heather, well, even if she had left a notarized document saying that Crystal is to be their guardian, that document would have no legal force. The surviving parent would be ‘a complete stranger in the eyes of the law.’”

  “So, in that hypothetical situation, the state would take the kids away from their other mother,” Penelope said.

  “Yes, because that’s the Christian thing to do,” Jamie rolled his eyes. “What hypocrisy.”

  “My plan,” Penelope said, “is to make a historical argument about the nature of family. How we consider—and have always considered—family to be those individuals who live together, share their food and fortunes, and rely on and support each other.”

  “But you’re going to run into some problems with that argument,” Jamie told her. “That argument is pretty much the opposite of what we used to advocate for gay marriage—we’ve always said that people evolve and that looking at history and tradition for answers is limiting.”

  “Right, so how do I argue that this is a family unit in all ways save one—the law—and that the state needs to get on board?”

  “I think you talk about the well-being of the children,” Genevieve said. “The Court seemed particularly moved by those arguments in last year’s gay marriage case. It wants children to be raised by loving parents, and removing a child from a parent will be detrimental to both the child and society.”

  “O’Neil’s going to be a problem here,” Jamie said. “He’s going to say that Louisiana can determine for itself whether or not it wants to recognize another state’s birth certificates.”

  “That’s just absurd,” Penelope said. “There’s zero history of a given state refusing to recognize another state’s birth certificates.”

  “Well, I think that’s your best defense if the other side raises states’ rights issues,” Genevieve said.

  “Noted,” Penelope scribbled in a notebook. “I also wondered what your thoughts were on the reach of this case. I assume that the justices wanted to hear arguments because they want to issue a broad ruling that would apply to more couples than just my clients. So how much time should I spend in briefs and arguments about my clients’ biographies and histories?”

  “Not much,” Genevieve said. “In other circumstances, I’d say go for sentimentality and talk about how much those kids love their moms. But the justices aren’t going to be swayed by emotions. Keep it about the well-being of children and society.”

  Penelope nodded, closed her notebook, and removed her glasses. “Listen, Genevieve, I wanted to say thanks for asking me to take this case on. It’s great for NCLR, and I’m honored to be arguing a case that means so much to you.”

  Underneath the table, her knee bumped against Genevieve’s. She left it there for a moment, then moved away and stole a quick glance at her. When their eyes met, Genevieve could have sworn actual sparks erupted between them.

  A millisecond later, it was over. Penelope turned to Jamie and cleared her throat. “But after this one, I won’t be taking lead on arguing cases myself. It’s too much, dividing my attention between administrating and litigating. I don’t know how you two do it.”

  “Well,” Jamie said, “to be clear, I don’t really. The gay marriage case Genevieve and I argued together—with Nic, of course—was an exception. I wasn’t about to let that case go to the Supreme Court without me. But since then, I’ve dramatically scaled back my involvement in actual cases. I agree—it’s too hard to do both.”

  Their eyes turned to Genevieve, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

  “I’m a litigator. I’ve always been one. I’m not going to walk away from that just because I’m an administrator now.” She shrugged. “I’m making it work, doing both. Isn’t that the dream—having it all?”

  They looked at her a bit skeptically, but the conversation moved on to other topics. Penelope’s knee brushed against hers one more time, and she felt a thrill ripple through her. Having it all, indeed.

  Chapter 14

  Now that Penelope was officially their attorney and she’d had a couple of weeks to review their case, Heather and Crystal were back in DC for a series of meetings with her. Their neighbor was watching Jackie and Jasper, and according to Crystal, traveling without the kids was so amazing she was just going to check them with her bags next time.

  It was an unseasonably warm day in November, so Genevieve took them to the National Mall for a city walk. After filling them in on her new life in DC, including dating Tori, she asked, “How’s living in Louisiana?”

  “Oh, it’s fine. Baton Rouge isn’t as conservative as the rest of the state. But it’s not Oakland, either,” Crystal said.

  “I think most people who see us don’t even register that we’re a couple—that both of us are parents to our children,” Heather added.

  “There are some homophobic taunts here and there,” Crystal said. “We try to just ignore it.”

  “It’s harder for Crystal,” Heather said, taking her hand. “It’s not just homophobia she has to face. At least once a week, someone treats Crystal like she’s an alien because, you know, they’ve only ever seen Asian people on TV.”

  “What kills me about the people who jeer at us because Heather’s white and I’m not is that they’re implicitly acknowledging that we are in fact a couple. So sometimes when I hear it, I think, at least they don’t hate us for being gay. But then they turn around and call us dykes.”

  Genevieve touched Crystal’s shoulder. “Are you sure this new job is worth it? Living there? There are tons of jobs here in DC.”

  “I know,” Crystal said, patting her hand. “It’s tempting. I think about leaving at least once a day. But honestly, green energy companies are a dime a dozen on the coasts. The fact that I’m working for one in Louisiana—well, it feels important.”

  “That’s not the only good work we’re trying to do either,” Heather cut in. “Back when congresspeople were proposing constitutional amendments to ban gay marriage, we talked about what it would mean to live our politics. It’s not an easy choice, and I’m not sure how much headway we’re actually making, but we are trying to convince people that lesbians aren’t evil incarnate and that breathing the same air as us isn’t going to liquefy their lungs or anything.”

  “At least now, fewer people in our neighborhood can honestly say they’ve never met a gay person.”

  “Wow,” said Genevieve. “I mean…wow. I would never do that. I’ve never lived anywhere other than superliberal places where, for the most part, people don’t hate other people for being different. I’m not that brave.”

  “Oh, please,” Crystal said, nudging Genevieve’s shoulder. “You run one of the foremost civil rights organizations in the country. I don’t think you need to worry about not making an impact.”

  “We’re careful not to hold hands in public,” Heather said. “And we’ve talked to the kids about it a lot. They’re cautious about who they talk to about their family, and so far, no one’s bullied them. We were going to pre-emptively talk to the principal, but evidently, he’s pretty awful. Blames it on his religion, but he doesn’t believe women or gay people deserve equality.”

  “Sounds like exactly the person you want in charge of a school,” Genevieve said.

  “The guidance counselor is more open-minded, and we’ve talked to her a few times. She’s keeping an eye on the kids, and we trust she’ll let us know if anyone tries to start something with them.”

  Given how warm it was, the paths were lined with pedestrians, runners, strollers, and even someone on Rollerblades. Ahead of them walked two women talking animatedly; at that moment, one kissed the other on the mouth, and Genevieve could faintly hear her say, “You’re ridiculous.”

  She glanced at her friends, who were looking wistfully at the couple. “Well, if you’re committed to Louisiana, I applaud you. And I offer you refuge any time you need it, for however long you need it, with or without the kids.”

  “You know, you’re not half as awkward around kids as you pretend to be,” Crystal said.

  Genevieve’s eyes got big, and Heather cut in. “Jasper even has a little crush on you.”

  “He’s, like, four, isn’t he?” Genevieve asked, hoping her cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

  “Eight,” Crystal said. “And I’m pretty sure I told you that twice last time we were here.”

  Heather laughed. “Don’t worry, Genevieve. Every time we bring them to see you, they’ll be older and less scary for you.”

  “Ha-ha,” Genevieve said, but the thought did give her some comfort. “So, what do you think of Penelope?”

  Crystal and Heather fell over themselves gushing about how brilliant, warm, and gorgeous Penelope was. Genevieve let them talk over each other, trying to sing her praises using increasingly sweeping superlatives. Finally, when Heather said, “I’ve never seen clothes fit a person better,” Genevieve put a hand on her arm.

  “I’m going to stop you there before you drool on yourself.” They rounded a corner and the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool stretched out in front of them. “I’m really glad you like looking at her. And even more glad that you feel confident in her legal skills.”

  Heather and Crystal both hesitated. “She’s not you, of course—” Heather said at the same time that Crystal blurted out, “We’d obviously rather have you arguing the case.”

  Genevieve chuckled and shook her head. “It’s okay, you two. It’s fine that you’re happy with her. And I get it. She’s…really something.”

  “Oh?” Crystal raised her eyebrows. “Says the woman in a relationship with a Supreme Court justice.”

  “Oh?” Genevieve countered. “And you two forgot for a minute that you’re married to each other while you were fawning over her?”