by Erin Zak
The emotion that was rising in Stevie’s throat ached. She whispered Bernadette’s name, and her voice cracked. Bernadette wrapped her arms around her, their naked bodies pressed together under the thin blue sheet. She felt Bernadette drag her manicured nails down her back, hard, so hard. Was it wrong that being hurt by Bernadette was the most alive Stevie had ever felt?
“I need you,” Bernadette growled when Stevie pressed her knee into Bernadette’s warm, soaked center.
She pushed her hand between them and cupped Bernadette before she slipped a finger inside. Bernadette’s guttural moan vibrated into Stevie’s mouth as they continued to kiss. She slid another finger inside Bernadette, rearranged her position, her knees now firmly on the bed, and latched on to a nipple. Bernadette’s fingers were in Stevie’s hair as she placed kisses along Bernadette’s stomach, down her sides, across the top of her pubic bone, down the top of each thigh, until she pushed Bernadette’s legs open wider. She looked so fucking incredible. Stevie never realized sex could be so honest, so raw. She tried to not think about leaving one day, about leaving the one person who made her feel okay about everything that ever happened to her.
Stop. Stop thinking.
Bad things happened, and they would continue to happen. But she needed to focus on Bernadette, her hands in Stevie’s hair and the sound of her moaning Stevie’s name, and the way she was moving in time with Stevie’s gentle thrusting. Bernadette was close. Her breathing and the tensing of her abdominal muscles were enough of an indication, but the way she was clenching around Stevie’s fingers was almost enough to drive Stevie herself over the edge, so she slipped her fingers out of Bernadette and watched her eyelids fly open.
“Oh God, don’t stop,” she begged. “Why are you stopping?”
Stevie smiled at her and teased her opening with her index finger. “I didn’t want it to happen too fast.”
“That was not fast.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Right this second?” Bernadette sounded so frustrated, and she was being a horrible person by not just letting her come, but Stevie was so overwhelmed by everything happening that if she didn’t say what she was feeling, she knew she never would.
“Yes, right now.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper over the sound of Bernadette’s panting. She maneuvered so she could lean down and place her mouth right next to Bernadette’s ear. She was wearing silver hoops, and even though they were plain, they were so fucking sexy. Stevie smiled as she breathed out against Bernadette’s earlobe and ever so gently started to slide her fingers back inside. She accepted Stevie with a moan. “You are everything to me,” Stevie whispered.
Within seconds, Bernadette clamped her thighs together, and her back arched. A laugh bubbled out of her as she turned onto her side, Stevie’s hand still trapped between her legs. “You are ridiculous,” she said through her laughter. She looked over her shoulder at Stevie, her dark hair spilling over the sheets. “Do you know that?”
“I’ve been told it a time or two.”
She continued to laugh, and when Stevie wiggled her fingers against Bernadette’s still pulsating center, she practically screamed. “You have got to give me a second.” Stevie obliged and waited patiently for Bernadette to give her a signal. Bernadette looked over her shoulder again, but this time, she was crying.
Stevie gasped. “Are you okay?”
“You asshole.” Bernadette rolled to face Stevie and the movement slid her fingers out. She wrapped her arms around Stevie’s neck. “I hate you so much.”
Stevie laughed. “Is that what we’re saying instead of the other word?”
“Yes.” Bernadette laughed through her tears. “I can’t say the other one. Not yet. I’m sorry.”
Stevie hugged Bernadette tighter as she cried. “I hate you, too,” she whispered against Bernadette’s jawline.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday brunch with Ashley, Laurie, and Deondre was a monthly event for Stevie. They never skipped a month, even when all of their lives didn’t seem to align. And Ashley paid every single time. It was easy for her because her husband was a brain surgeon and made shitloads of money. The three of them who scraped by from paycheck to paycheck had stopped arguing over the bill when Ashley finally told them to shut the fuck up and take the charity.
December’s brunch was at the Little Goat Diner, and Stevie was so excited. She absolutely loved everything about Stephanie Izard, the owner, and almost peed her pants when she met her after an improv show. One of her guilty pleasures was binge-watching cooking shows, so when Stephanie won Top Chef, she was instantly a fan.
“Stevie, try to keep it in your pants if we run into Stephanie today,” Deondre said before he took a drink of his Bloody Mary. “You were such an embarrassment the last time she came to a show.”
“Y’know what?” Stevie pointed at Deondre, her face stern. But she cracked and smiled. “I am not making any promises. She’s so dreamy.”
Laurie rolled her eyes. “You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”
“A girlfriend? What the hell? No. I always keep my options open.”
“My girl.” Deondre raised his hand in the air and waited for Stevie to high-five it. “Play the field. Don’t get tied down. It’s not worth it.”
“Oh yes, please, tell us how you’re playing the field”—Ashley did air quotes while rolling her eyes—“my dear sweet Deondre.” She blew on her coffee. “You seem to have a girlfriend these days, like Stevie does.”
“I do not have a girlfriend,” Stevie said in unison with Deondre, then descended into laughter along with Laurie and Ashley.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Ashley, you know you can kiss my ass whenever you want.” Stevie took a small drink of her coffee, then smiled. “I mean, of course, I love you, and thank you for paying for brunch again.”
“Okay, though”—Deondre leaned back—“tell me about this girlfriend.”
“Jesus,” Stevie whispered. She glared at Laurie and Ashley before she made eye contact with Deondre. “Do you remember the woman who came and sat with us after a show a while back? She was with her brother?”
Deondre nodded. “I sure the hell do. That lady was fine as fuck.” His eyes widened. “Oh, wait a second.”
“Yeah…”
“Hold up. You’re dating the interpreter? Wasn’t that who she was? Isn’t that how I knew her?” Deondre took the piece of celery from his drink and pointed it at Stevie. “You mean to tell me, you’re dating the woman who basically did your reading.”
“No, no, no.” Stevie waved her hands. “That is not how it works. She does not do the readings. Constance does. She interprets what Constance says. Two completely different things.”
Deondre smiled. “It’s not different. She could have been lying to you.”
Stevie shook her head. “No way. You had a reading done. You saw what happens.”
“I dunno. Seems fishy.”
“You never know,” Laurie said as she leaned forward, intrigue written all over her face. “It’s a good point.”
“She was not lying to me, guys. Stop. Please.”
“Anyway.” Deondre signaled to the server to bring another Bloody Mary. “The reading was whack. That Constance woman was so off target. I mean, come on.”
“You asked if you were going to be truly happy in life, right?” Laurie asked from across the table, and when he nodded, she tilted her head and nudged Ashley. “And you have a new woman in your life who seems absolutely perfect, right?” Deondre nodded again. “Sounds like maybe she knew what she was talking about.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck all y’all.” Deondre flipped Laurie and Ashley off before he turned his attention back to Stevie. “You are dating her, though?” He didn’t wait for her to respond when he continued with, “What about SNL? What about NYC? What about leaving and never turning back? Girl, you preached and preached at me about not wanting to tie yourself down to an anvil like goddamn Wile E. Coyote. You
said that. Not me.”
“You realize I haven’t answered anything. You’re jumping to those conclusions on your own.”
“Oh, am I now?” Deondre looked over his black-framed glasses at her. “Girl, you know I know you, right? This ain’t our first rodeo together.”
Stevie rolled her eyes.
“I freaking love when someone else puts you in your place,” Laurie said, her smile so large and maniacal it could scare an innocent child.
“I hate you.” Stevie brought her coffee to her lips but before drinking said, “We are dating. I guess. Yes. But it’s not like I’m not going to leave when I hear from SNL. I spoke with Mikayla the other day, and she said they haven’t made a single decision on any new cast members. It’s still being decided. So I’m being patient.”
“You? Patient?” Ashley’s scrunched nose was almost too much to handle.
“Funny.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
“She’s being patient because she has Bernadette to distract her. A distraction Stevie never wanted. Or needed.” Laurie leaned back in the booth, satisfaction written all over her face. “Maybe a girlfriend is what you needed all along.”
“Bernadette is not my girlfriend.”
“What an old-school name, though. Right on.” Deondre raised his glass in a mock toast.
“She’s pretty cool,” Laurie finally admitted. Stevie smiled a silent thanks.
Ashley leaned forward and placed her hand over Stevie’s. “You know we’ll support you no matter what happens, right? If you make it to SNL, if you don’t go because you’ve fallen in love with someone, all those things. We’ll support you.”
“You all are fucking crazy if you think I wouldn’t go to SNL because of a stupid girl,” she said as she squeezed Ashley’s fingertips. “Fucking crazy.” They all laughed before the subject was changed to Ashley’s kids, Laurie’s new roommate, and Deondre’s new girlfriend. Stevie was thrilled for the break in the inquisition. She hated being questioned about anything but especially about her career when women were concerned. She hated being a cold-hearted bitch, but there was no one and nothing that would stop her if she was offered the coveted spot at SNL. Not a single fucking thing would get in her way.
Bernadette would understand, wouldn’t she? She would have to. It wasn’t a secret in their relationship. It wasn’t something either of them spoke about at all, though. Stevie never wanted to talk about it because talking about it would mean talking about the possibility of not making it, and that was not an option. But now it also meant talking about leaving Bernadette if she did make it. Scratch that. When she made it. Leaving would be difficult. Especially after the last two weekends together. And then last night…falling asleep together after the most passionate sex she had ever experienced. Waking up to Bernadette this morning, kissing those full lips, being pulled back to bed for a quickie…It was all so amazing. And it was frightening. Because it was…well…love…And it was ruining everything. Stevie knew this was going to come back and bite her in the ass. She was not ready to deal with something like this.
Or maybe she was ready, and that was the real problem.
* * *
Bernadette eyed Marci and Paul over the table at Joe’s Stone Crab. It wasn’t often she would go to dinner when Marci was invited. She was insufferable, and there was not a single thing about Marci she could find to like. She couldn’t stand Marci’s voice, her face, hell, anything at all about the woman. She hated that Paul married her. But she was the mother of Carly and Jesse, and those girls held her heart, so when Paul practically begged her to come to dinner, their treat, she agreed. But only because Paul promised Marci would be on her best behavior.
So far, he had told the truth. Marci wasn’t acting like her normal self, which could only mean one thing.
Something big was going to happen. Some news was going to be shared. Oh God, was Marci pregnant again? Poor Paul. Their marriage barely survived the two pregnancies before. How were they going to survive a third?
“Paulie tells me you have a new woman in your life.” Marci picked up her glass and drank. She was drinking water. Yep, she was pregnant.
“I mean, I guess?” She glared at Paul. “It’s not serious. She’s a nice person, though.”
“She’s very funny.” Paul had his arm propped on the booth behind Marci, his hand possessively on her shoulder. “I think you like her a lot more than you’re letting on.”
“Not really.” She broke eye contact and looked at her glass of pinot noir. She didn’t want to talk about Stevie tonight. After their night together and then waking up next to her this morning, it was hard to think about Stevie and not get emotional. Talking about her was just as difficult.
“Well, tell me about her.” Marci leaned forward, and her hair fell over her shoulder. She was so freaking beautiful. How did Paul get such a beautiful wife? He was such a smarmy asshole most of the time. It was the goddamn Thompson charm he got from their dad that helped him out.
“I don’t want to—”
“Oh, please, Bernie,” Marci pleaded. “We never get to talk about girl stuff together. It’s always kids and Paul, and who wants to talk about him all the time?” Marci glanced at Paul. “No offense, darling.”
He shook his head while laughing. “None taken.”
“So, tell me about her. I’d love to hear your version, rather than Paul’s CliffsNotes version.”
Who was this woman? What had she done with Marci? “Her name is Stevie.” She felt her cheeks warming. Was it from the wine? Or from the very mention of Stevie’s name? “She does improv over at Improv Chicago. She’s awesome.”
“I already told her.” Paul nudged Marci. “Right, babe?”
“Shut up. I already said I want to hear Bernadette’s version.” Marci winked at Bernadette. “Carry on.”
Bernadette couldn’t help but laugh. If Marci had been like this since day one, she might have liked the woman. “Do you want the juicy version? Or the G-rated version?”
Marci’s left eyebrow rose to her hairline. “What do you think?”
“Juicy it is.” She leaned into the booth and gathered her thoughts. She felt as if she had sixteen different versions of this story. “I met her at the shop. She burst through the curtain in the back trying to find her friends, and Connie was all about doing a tarot reading on her for some reason. That intuition stuff Connie has. I don’t know. Stevie finally said okay, but it was weird because it was like I was drawn to her. Like a magnet. It was very strange. So, Connie did her reading and…” She stopped, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly before she made eye contact with Marci, then Paul, then back to Marci. “I’ve never had my cards read. But I swear to God, it was like my cards were being read. The way our lives seemed to meld together. It was almost as if I couldn’t tell where her reading ended and mine began. I touched her hand by accident and then her leg before the reading, so maybe that was why? I don’t know. I can’t even begin to describe how weird it all was.”
“Well, shit, you never told me this version of the story.” Paul folded his arms across his chest and pouted. “What the heck?”
“Ooh! So, wait,” Marci said. “Aren’t you like, forbidden to see clients? Psychic-client confidentiality?”
“I mean, yeah, but…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, is there a clause?” Marci laughed. “I was kidding.”
“Well, no, it’s like an unwritten rule Connie has, but since I’m only the interpreter…” She paused to take a sip of her wine. She set the glass on the table and sighed. “But Connie is pissed off at me right now because she sort of found out. You know she has a sixth sense. She can see things even when they aren’t there.”
“She saw you two together and knew?” Paul was now as invested as Marci.
Bernadette nodded. “I tried to play it off, but—”
“You have no poker face?”
“Ugh.” She groaned. “I hate it. I need to work on it.”
Paul swirled
his old-fashioned in the glass before he lifted it and pointed at Bernadette. “She fired you, didn’t she?”
“No,” she answered matter-of-factly, holding her head high. “But I stopped going in.” Her shoulders fell. “So I think she replaced me. We haven’t communicated much since the tree fiasco.”
Marci cleared her throat and raised a finger. “You know she can’t keep controlling your life, right? Don’t get me wrong. I understand best friends. I get it. But, Bernie, come on. The second you start seeing someone, you always stop before your emotions get involved. And we all know it’s because of Connie.”
“Jesus.” Bernadette breathed out a puff of air. “I don’t have a poker face at all, do I?”
“Absolutely not.” Paul laughed. “The whole family thinks you’ve been in love with Connie for far too long.”
“What am I supposed to do? It’s not like I wanted to love her for all these years. I know I can’t have her. I never could. But I loved her…and she loved me in whatever fucked-up way she could.”
Marci sighed. “Oh, honey, you can’t think that was enough love to sustain you for the rest of your life.”
“I know.” And she did know. She was so sick of living her life for Connie, to make Connie happy. She did everything for a woman she was never going to have.
“So, enough about Connie. She’s old news. What’s going on now with you and Stevie?” Marci changed the subject expertly, and excitement was now written all over her face. She must have been on the edge of her seat. She’d removed her glasses and looked as if she was watching a great rom-com.
She didn’t know how to answer that question because so much was going on in her mind. She was fighting the battle for her heart with Connie and hoping one day they’d be friends again, all while trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Stevie. And she had no idea what Stevie was thinking. Instead of answering the question, she shrugged and picked her wineglass up by the stem. She spun the glass slowly before she finally replied with, “I think I’m falling in love with her.” Marci’s audible deep breath made Bernadette make eye contact. “I know, it’s stupid. She’s so young, and she has her whole life ahead of her.”
