Love After Hours

by Radclyffe

  “You’re right. She’s not subtle, coming or going. One of the things I love about her.” Abby laughed again. “So? How are you now that he’s taken this step?”

  “I’m good.” Margie considered what Abby might be worried about. “We’re not having sex.”

  Abby carefully set down the plate of toast. “Not totally my business. I’m on the fence about it, actually.”

  “Us having it or you asking?”

  “The asking part, mostly.” Abby sighed. “I just want both of you to be okay—whatever you decide to do.”

  “I guess we can’t know for sure until we do.” Margie reached for the pile of toast Abby put on the table. “Maybe someday, but we’re not there yet. We’re good now.”

  “Okay. Yes. Right.” Abby blew a strand of hair from her eyes and shook her head. “Well, you made that easy.”

  Margie laughed. “It’s not really complicated. We spent a lot of time, you know, talking about transitioning and reading and stuff. So if, whenever, it won’t be a surprise.”

  “Just so you know,” Abby said, “you both know, if there’s anything you ever want to talk about, Flann and I are here.”

  “Yeah,” Margie said, “I got that.”

  A door closed above them and Abby hurriedly put plates on the counter. “Great!”

  Blake came downstairs and paused by the counter, looking curiously from Abby to Margie. “What’s going on?”

  Margie forked up a piece of bacon. “Your mom and I are talking about sex.”

  “Really, Mom?” Blake carefully slid onto a stool as Abby put a glass of juice in front of him. “Do you think you could not totally embarrass me, please?”

  Abby glanced at Margie. “It’s okay, we’re done. Margie cleared everything up.”

  Margie brushed his knee with hers. “I told her we’re good. For now.”

  Blake smiled and leaned against her shoulder. “Well, yeah.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Carrie dropped her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk at the same time as she powered up her computer with the other hand. She was already scanning her in-box as she settled into the chair behind her desk. Thirty seconds later, Presley’s door opened and she poked her head out.

  “Morning.”

  “Sorry I’m late,” Carrie said absently, making lists in her head as she read. “Need anything?”

  “Nope. And you’re not late,” Presley said. “You’re still fifty minutes early.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Maybe for someone in the other departments, but not this one.”

  Presley smiled. “You got my message about the construction?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t get the message from the service until first thing this morning, or I would’ve given you a heads-up sooner. Are you okay to meet the contractor this morning?”

  “Already did, all sorted out.” Carrie deleted a half dozen meeting reminders she didn’t need. The critical ones were already on her calendar. “I’ll swing by after the division head meeting if there’s nothing else going on.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Presley came all the way out and closed the door behind her. “He showed up this morning?”

  “She,” Carrie said, giving Presley her full attention. Nothing had really jumped out from her in-box, beyond the usual mini-fires that would need extinguishing sometime before noon. Nothing she couldn’t handle easily. “Gina Antonelli.”

  “The Gina from last night.”

  “The very same.”

  Presley rearranged some file folders on the corner of Carrie’s desk and settled her hip on the edge as if she planned to stay for a while.

  “So,” Presley said, drawing out the word. “Gina.”

  “Uh-huh,” Carrie said, feigning innocence and ignorance, neither of which she was very good at, especially where Presley was concerned. She was a few years younger than Presley, but they’d become fast friends almost as soon as they’d met, and their working relationship had never changed that. Presley could read her even before she knew her own mind, to her never-ending annoyance. Her only recourse when she wanted to avoid discussing something personal before she was ready was to play dense. Once in a while that actually worked, although like her sisters, Presley rarely gave up when she was on the scent of something interesting.

  “We were lucky to get someone out there so quickly,” Presley said casually.

  “I know. I’m excited about getting the renovations done.” Carrie frowned. She had lucked out, and none of her renovation projects were really critical. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be sending them over to Flann and Abby’s new house instead of my place…well, Harper’s place, really. At least I can live in it.”

  Presley shook her head. “First, it’s officially your place now. And Flann and Abby can wait a little while. Abby said they weren’t going to move until after Blake’s recovered. And now there’s the wedding to plan. Just too much going on.”

  “Then I guess I got lucky. I’ll take it.”

  Presley folded her arms across her chest and gave Carrie a long look. “It looks like you might be getting lucky in other ways too.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.” Carrie swiveled back to her monitor. “Don’t you have emails to read?”

  Presley laughed and didn’t budge. “Gina?”

  “Please,” Carrie said. “Not going there.”

  “Why not? She’s easy to look at.”

  “And am I so shallow that that’s all that matters?” Carrie said archly.

  “Of course not.” Presley grinned, obviously enjoying herself. “But it’s not a bad place to start. And you already know she’s good with her hands.”

  Carrie colored. “You did not just say that. Really.”

  “Well. Come on. She looked pretty interested last night.”

  “Oh, really. And how can you tell that?”

  “How about she didn’t have a single word to say to anyone else at the table, including her brother. She sat down and never took her eyes off you.”

  If Presley had noticed Gina’s attentions, Carrie couldn’t have been imagining the connection she’d sensed between them. Heat and a flurry of nerves whirled inside her. No use pretending she didn’t like the teasing and the sexy looks Gina had directed at her. Presley would see right through the pretense, and she’d only be fooling herself. Not her approach to a challenge or an unexpected development that threw her life a little off-kilter. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t be interested. I’m just saying at the moment, there’s nothing on the agenda.”

  “Well, Carrie,” Presley said with exaggerated patience, “maybe you need to put something on the agenda. It’s not like you to wait for someone else to make the first move.”

  “Oh, and on what do you base that judgment?”

  “On the fact that I’ve seen you at a party when there was someone who interested you.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re bringing up that sorority reunion again? I knew I never should’ve dragged you along.”

  “Well, you did. And…let me see…the dark-haired Solana, wasn’t it? With the bedroom eyes and the…well, everything, actually. Wasn’t she the one you zeroed in on the minute you saw her?”

  “Yes, okay. But we only got as far as necking.”

  Presley laughed again. “Necking? Maybe that’s why your agenda is so thin.”

  Carrie pushed her chair back and pretended to glare. “Just because you are now an old married lady getting regular sex does not mean you’re an expert on everyone else’s love life and can start giving advice to everyone you know.”

  “True enough,” Presley said with a nod. “About the happily married, and the regular sex. As to the advice, I would say if you’re free and she’s free, and there’s a little bit of a spark, I would fan the flames. And enjoy myself if I were you.”

  “Thank you very much. I will take it under advisement.”

  “And you’ll be sure to tell me if anything comes of your deliberations.
” Presley glanced at her watch. “Well, now that we have that settled, I’d better work for the next ten minutes.”

  “We have twelve,” Carrie said.

  Presley stood and shook her head. “How you do that, exactly?”

  “No idea. I just always know.”

  “Handy habit. Maybe you should pay attention to the rest of your intuition. Could be interesting.”

  “Thank you and go read your email.”

  “Going.”

  Presley disappeared back into her office, and Carrie refocused on her computer. Intuition sounded a whole lot like risky business to her. She wasn’t above taking a chance and trying something new, or someone new. She never risked too much without being sure, and she’d never been sure enough of anyone or her own feelings to risk everything.

  Gina was a different story. Gina already occupied more of her thoughts than anyone ever had in such a short time. Right at this moment, when she should be reviewing the items for the upcoming meeting, she was thinking about Gina.

  Still, she smiled to herself. Sixty-seven minutes from now. She might not have an agenda, but she did have an appointment.

  *****

  “I’m due in to the ER at ten,” Abby said. “You two need anything before I go?”

  Margie carried her plate and Blake’s to the sink and rinsed them. “I’m scheduled to work with Mari this afternoon, one to five, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

  “You need a ride anywhere?” Abby asked.

  “If you could drop me off at Lee’s Crossing corner, I can walk the rest of the way home.”

  Abby smiled. “I think I’ve got plenty of time to take you all the way out to the homestead.” She glanced at Blake, questioningly. “You okay with being here alone?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged dismissively. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to do until the drains come out, and I can handle them okay.” He tugged at the compression vest under his loose T. “Flann said maybe I can get the drains out today. Then I can take a shower, right?”

  “How much did they drain last time?”

  “I’ve emptied them twice. They were both pretty full each time.”

  Abby pressed her lips together. “Well, Flann’s the boss, but usually it needs to be less than an ounce every eight hours before they can come out, and you might not be there yet. I think you might need them at least until tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Blake sighed. “That’s what I figured, but boy, they’re a real pain.”

  “How about the incisions—are they bothering you much?”

  Blake shook his head. “Nope. Other than the drains and the stupid vest, I feel fine.”

  “Good. But just because you feel good, don’t overdo it.”

  “I know, I know. No lifting, stretching, or tugging with my arms.”

  “And still no driving,” Abby added.

  “Right,” Blake mumbled.

  Abby smothered a smile. “I’m going to shower and get ready to go.” She looked at Margie. “Half an hour, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Abby disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  Blake leaned close. “Did my mom really ask you if we were having sex?”

  “Not in so many words.” Margie settled back up on the stool. “You okay here? You want to go lie down?”

  Blake winced. “I’m already sick of bed. I don’t see why I can’t sit in the ER just as easily. I could do intake or something.”

  “Yeah. Until that got boring and you wanted to do something else.” She shook her head. “You know the biggest complication is fluid collection, and that comes from doing too much too soon.”

  Blake grimaced. “I know, I know.” He heaved a sigh. “So what did my mom say?”

  Margie glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “She kind of hinted at it in a roundabout way, you know, the way parents do when they’re not sure what to say.”

  “That’s not really like her. Usually she gets right to it.”

  Margie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but this is sex.”

  “Yeah. I know. Everybody gets weird around sex, but she’s a doctor!”

  “Uh-huh. And you’re her kid, and Mom trumps Doc.”

  Blake grinned. “Sometimes. So what did you say?”

  “That we weren’t.”

  “That’s cool, then,” Blake said after a pause.

  Margie heard the uncertainty in his voice. “We don’t usually get weird about sex. So what’s up?”

  Blake fidgeted with his juice glass, turning it on the countertop. “Well, you know, we talked about a lot of stuff about sex in general, but we haven’t talked about me…and you. Specifically.”

  “We haven’t?” Margie frowned. “I thought we kind of both agreed we were good the way things are now, and if anything changed, that would be cool too.”

  Blake nodded vigorously. “Right, we did, and I agree. Totally.”

  “Then?”

  Blake blew out a long breath. “Wow. This is harder than I thought. No wonder parents talk in big circles and lame metaphors.”

  “Well, we’ve never needed to do that before.” Margie laughed. “And really, you suck at metaphors. So whatever’s on your mind, you should just come out with it. I don’t think anything is going to surprise me all that much.”

  Blake relaxed. “How come you can make the hard things so easy to talk about?”

  “Seriously?” Margie shrugged. “I think because, as long as I can remember, Harper and Flann and Carson—even my mom and dad—have always talked about everything that’s happening in front of me. If it was important, or just part of everyday life, they didn’t try to cover up the hard parts. At dinner when my dad would get home from the hospital or when Harper and Flann started treating patients, they’d talk sometimes about sad things or scary things. And you could tell that helped them feel better. When Bill went to war, Carson would talk about being afraid of him not coming home.” She thought for a minute. “You know what it is? Nobody pretended to be strong or brave all the time, and that made it easier when it was my turn to talk about hard stuff. So your hard stuff is not scary to me.”

  Blake stared at her. “I knew that, right away. I got really lucky you were the first person I met here.”

  “Thank you. And same here.” Margie grinned. “So back to the sex—what are you afraid of telling me?”

  Blake shot her a look. “That’s subtle.”

  Margie laughed. “You already know I don’t do subtle. What’s bothering you?”

  “Besides the fact that my mother is inquiring about my sex life?”

  “Oh, come on. What makes you think you’re any different? Every one of my sisters, plus my parents, has checked in with me. More than once.” Margie laughed. “Do I want to talk about anything. Do I know whoever I decide to date is okay with them. No hurry, of course. And sex is natural and normal—and big ditto on the no hurry where that’s concerned.”

  “I know. But it is different for me,” Blake said quietly. “Me dating somebody comes with a whole extra set of issues.”

  “Okay, maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “I think dating and sex is different for everybody, and everybody has issues,” Margie said. “None of us feel the same about our bodies or, you know, necessarily feel confident hooking up with somebody else. Even if you’re cisgender het, you can have issues, and what if you’re not? I don’t have to tell you about the whole coming-out thing.”

  “Yeah, but at least for cis people, gay or straight, their parts match what’s on the inside,” Blake said with the first hint of bitterness she’d ever heard from him.

  “Oh. Yeah. Okay.” Margie leaned on her elbow and studied him. “That’s true. It doesn’t mean I’m any more comfortable with my body than other people, even someone trans like you, but I get where being trans does add a factor.”

  Blake laughed. “A factor? Wow, I’ll say.”

  “Does it bother you a lot?” Margie stopped. “Boy, that was a stupid question. I g
uess it must. I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s okay. It bothers me a lot less than it ever used to. Being able to live all the time as who I am makes a big difference, but I worry, you know, that other people aren’t going to be able to relate.”

  “In bed, you mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is this a general or a specific thing?”

  Blake grinned a little. “I mostly want to know what you think. Since I’m not, you know, with anybody that way.”

  Margie tried to imagine how she’d feel if she hadn’t known Blake was trans all along and then found out when they were ready to date. “Since I’ve always known you were trans, I also know pretty much about your body, so it doesn’t seem like such a big thing. I know you, and that’s what matters. I guess if I were someone else who didn’t know you were trans, that would be different.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Margie sighed. “You’re right. This isn’t so easy to explain. So—specifically, if we were going to, you know, hook up. What do you want to know?”

  Blake pushed his glass and met her gaze. “How does me being trans work for you? Have you thought about it?”

  Margie blushed, and that was embarrassing. She was much cooler than that! Laughing at herself, she said, “Well, sure. I mean, sixteen and all.”

  Blake’s heart lightened with a sensation he realized was hope. “Yeah, and?”

  “Let’s be scientific for a second.”

  “Oh, sure.” Blake grinned. “You’re stalling, Rivers.”

  “No, I’m not!” Margie smirked. “Okay, maybe a little.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think getting to touch you…and you touching me…would be awesome. And as long as it feels good, both ways, your body is your body. That it’s you is what matters.”

  Blake let out a breath. “That’s good. That’s…real good.”

  Margie poked his arm. “As far as I’m concerned, your body is just part of you, and if…whenever…that’s going to be what matters. That it’s you.”

  Abby emerged, car keys in hand. “You ready, Margie?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Blake, you okay?” Abby asked. “You two look awfully serious.”