Beautiful Accidents

by Erin Zak

  Stevie had a lot of pride in her ability to improv on the spot in a situation and lie her way out of anything. But her abilities went right out the door, and she felt herself answer the question with a nod. She kept her eyes on the beer, on the Chicago skyline in the background of the green label. The admission felt kind of good. She had fallen in love with Bernadette, and it was the first time she was coming clean. And not only to Laurie but to herself, as well.

  “Jesus,” Laurie said, her voice a low hiss. “You are so fucked.”

  Stevie pulled her eyes from the label. “Ugh. I am.” And as she said those words, her phone rang.

  Laurie leapt a mile high, grabbed the phone, and tossed it at Stevie. “Answer it.”

  She could barely feel her hands when she saw the caller ID on the phone. New York City. “Fuck,” she whispered as she slid her finger across the screen and raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

  * * *

  Stevie opened her apartment door and leaned against it. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” She watched Bernadette—with her pink cheeks, beautiful eye makeup, and full, deep red lips—bounce on the balls of her feet and shrug. “Would you like to come in?” Bernadette walked past her into the apartment, and Stevie shut the door as quietly as possible. She reached forward and took Bernadette’s black velvet blazer after she slid it from her shoulders. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud, and Stevie watched as she toed off a pair of black booties that had a substantial heel. She was also wearing black skinny slacks and a cute black top. Her hair was pulled into a mass of curls on top of her head. There were a few curls along her hairline at the base of her skull that had snuck out of the bun. When Stevie caught the look on Bernadette’s face she had the feeling something horrible had happened. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Bernadette nodded.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m okay,” she finally answered, her voice low. “I just needed to see you.”

  Her words took the breath from Stevie’s lungs. In normal circumstances, it was exactly what she would have wanted to hear from Bernadette. But not now. Not after accepting an offer and agreeing to leave for New York City in under a week. Not after hearing that Lorne Michaels wanted to call personally but was under the weather. Not after crying with Laurie after she hung up the phone. Not after Mikayla’s text that her spare bedroom was all ready for her arrival. Did Bernadette know she got the job? Did she have a sixth sense?

  “I’m sorry.” Bernadette went to reach for her coat. “I should have called or texted.”

  “No.” She held the coat away from Bernadette. “No, you’re fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Stevie breathed, and she could feel Bernadette eyeing her. She needed to get her shit together, or she was going to have a mental breakdown right there in the hallway. “Go, sit. I’ll make us a drink.” Bernadette finally turned and headed into the living room. Stevie pulled a deep breath into her lungs and held it while she hung up the coat she was still clutching like a life line. She slowly let it out, centered herself, and put on a brave face. “Bourbon?” Bernadette nodded, and a small smile appeared on her lips. She looked so beautiful sitting on Stevie’s couch, her left leg crossed over her right. Her black-sock-covered foot was gently bobbing up and down. She knew that meant Bernadette was nervous. What the hell was going to happen?

  She put together two tumblers of bourbon, each a generous amount over a perfectly formed ice ball, and when she handed a glass over, she noticed Bernadette’s hand was shaking. “What is going on?” Stevie sat close to her, their thighs touching. “Something happened.”

  Bernadette raised her glass to her lips and before drinking, breathed in the scent of the bourbon. She took a sip, pursed her lips, and after a moment softly said, “I’m in love with you.”

  Once again, Stevie couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m sorry to blurt it out like that.” Bernadette took another sip of her drink, then held the glass with both hands in her lap. “I have had the most ridiculous evening, though, and I feel like it’s important to say it.”

  Stevie wasn’t sure what to say, so instead, she drank. She closed her eyes and let the dark liquor burn the inside of her mouth before she swallowed.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to say it back…or, God, if you don’t feel the same way.” Bernadette let out a laugh and it sounded as if she was going to crack. “I never even considered that to be a possibility.”

  Stevie reached forward and placed her hand on Bernadette’s arm. “Stop.” She tightened her grip. “I feel the same way.”

  “You do?” Bernadette was looking at Stevie now. Her smoky eye makeup was perfect, and the pink in her cheeks had settled since she’d warmed up.

  “Of course, I do.” Stevie sighed. It was useless of her to try to keep it in any longer. “I love you so much.”

  “Why do you look like you’re only saying it so you don’t hurt my feelings?”

  Stevie’s heart clenched in her chest. “Bernadette,” she whispered. “I’ve been in love with you almost since the moment I saw you, when our hands touched…” She stopped herself from continuing. She was so overcome with emotion, she knew she was going to start crying. She was so in love with Bernadette. She let herself fall so hard that the thought of leaving for Saturday Night Live, for New York City, for her dreams, was nauseating. Because her dreams had started to include being in love with someone instead of something. She needed to tell Bernadette what happened hours earlier. She needed to say it before she lost her nerve. Or worse, before it could hurt Bernadette more than it was already going to.

  Bernadette set their glasses on coasters on the coffee table. She stood and held her hand out to Stevie. “Come to bed with me.”

  Stevie didn’t protest, even though she needed to. She needed to stop dragging it out. She needed to say the words.

  Bernadette…

  She followed Bernadette into her bedroom.

  I got…

  She watched as Bernadette undressed, tossing her black top across the room onto a chair.

  The job…

  Bernadette unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her legs, and Stevie’s mouth went dry. She was wearing a red lace thong and it matched her bra perfectly. “Goddammit,” she breathed as Bernadette closed the distance between them. After she unbuttoned Stevie’s jeans, she slid them down her legs and helped her step out of them. Stevie couldn’t take her eyes off Bernadette as she started to unsnap Stevie’s black and red flannel, slowly, one snap at a time, until suddenly, Bernadette tore it open. The unsnapping was so loud it almost echoed through the apartment.

  “Sorry.”

  Stevie laughed when Bernadette pushed the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms. She flung the shirt across the room and immediately started on Stevie’s bra. She felt it go limp, and she couldn’t help but laugh again because as soon as Bernadette finished, she was yanking Stevie’s panties down as quickly as possible.

  “Stay there.”

  “Where are you going?” Stevie asked with a whine as Bernadette rushed past her. She came back with her purse. She pulled out a leather bag. She laid it on the bed and unzipped the sides. When she flipped it open, she was holding a black harness in one hand and a purple dildo in the other.

  “I want you to wear this.” Bernadette’s eyes were so dark. Stevie wasn’t sure if she should be turned on or scared. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes. Absolutely yes.” Stevie reached for the harness. “Are you sure about this?”

  Bernadette nodded. “I have never been more certain of anything.”

  “Okay.” Stevie worked at fastening one side of the harness around her upper thigh as Bernadette helped hold it steady. When it was on securely, Bernadette stroked the dildo, running a finger from the base to the tip. Stevie licked her lips and looked up and into Bernadette’s eyes. “Holy shit, that’s hot.”

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  �
�Holy shit, that’s hot.”

  Bernadette smiled before she lunged forward and captured Stevie’s lips with hers. The kiss was deep and full of passion and desire. She worked to unclasp Bernadette’s bra, remove it, then rid Bernadette of her thong. They fell onto the bed, and she found herself being topped by Bernadette. She was straddling Stevie’s upper thighs, the dildo in front of her. “Have you done this before?”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Stevie could see the blush in Bernadette’s cheeks even in the dim lighting. “I’ll be gentle,” she whispered. She nudged Bernadette, instructed her to get onto her back. She guided Bernadette so she was positioned with her legs bent, feet flat on the bed. She reached forward and ran a finger through Bernadette’s wetness. “Are you okay?” Bernadette nodded. She was biting her lower lip, and Stevie bent down and kissed her chin, then her lips. “Tell me if it hurts.” Stevie moved so she was able to see what she was doing. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast. She slid a little closer and dipped the tip of the dildo into Bernadette’s center. Stevie slid her hand over the dildo, smoothing the wetness over it. She studied Bernadette’s face as she leaned in, gently pushing the dildo inside. She glanced down at it, saw how Bernadette was accepting it, and almost orgasmed just watching. She pulled out, rocked her hips forward, then back, slowly. Bernadette’s low moan made Stevie’s insides light on fire. She continued to thrust as gently as possible. The way the harness held the dildo made the base of it brush against her clit so perfectly. She knew if she continued, she was going to come.

  “God, Stevie, please, do not stop.” Bernadette was breathless as she spoke, and all it did was make Stevie even more ready to explode.

  “Are you close?”

  Bernadette moaned her answer, and after two more thrusts, she felt Bernadette’s nails dig into her back, saw her lean her head back, exposing her neck, and saw the muscles in her jaw clench. She continued to thrust, and as Bernadette’s moan became a scream, she felt her own orgasm rip through her body like a tsunami. She collapsed onto the bed next to Bernadette, who moaned again as the dildo slipped out of her.

  “What the fuck.”

  Stevie chuckled as she propped herself up with her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Bernadette whispered. “So much yes.”

  “Are you ready to go again?”

  Bernadette turned her head and gaped at Stevie. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss Bernadette. “So much yes.” Bernadette kissed her back before Stevie pulled away and said, “Get on your hands and knees.”

  * * *

  Bernadette watched Stevie as she slept next to her, the navy-blue sheet across her bare chest. The down comforter was pushed off because as Bernadette quickly learned, Stevie’s body temperature when she slept was insane. She felt like a heater, and all sex did was make it worse. The only benefit was she was always cold at night, so snuggling up next to Stevie was an awesome perk of having a human heat box as a girlfriend.

  Girlfriend.

  The word made her chest tighten. Of all the things she worried about or had anxiety over, Stevie as her girlfriend was at the top of the list. She hated letting her mind get so carried away with everything, but in less than two months, Stevie had gone from a blip on her radar to just as important as the air she breathed. It was maddening. And exciting. And scary as hell. Unfortunately, knowing that it wasn’t going to last forever was only making the ache in her chest worse.

  There was this huge part of her that wanted to run. She wanted to go back to Connie, to the safe albeit fucked-up relationship they had together, and live out the rest of her days. She hadn’t always been miserable with what they had. For the longest time, it was all she wanted, all she needed. She didn’t need the intimate parts because what Connie gave her felt an awful lot like what love was supposed to feel like. They laughed and had profound, insightful conversations, and there were even those rare moments when Connie would let her guard down, and Bernadette would see this glimmer of hope. Maybe Connie would want what they had together forever. But those moments never lasted. And Connie never hinted at forever. Never said she wanted it. Never said anything to make Bernadette think there was ever going to be more. It was all in her mind. And the worst part was, she fucking knew it. She wasn’t naive or stupid. She knew she was never going to get what she wanted.

  But with Stevie…

  Bernadette felt the warmth wash over her body. The feeling that was foreign at first became so familiar. Their relationship moved from accidental to on purpose. It was something she wasn’t sure she understood completely, but there was something inside of her that didn’t want to fully comprehend it. She was loving every second of getting to know Stevie, learning about her quirks, finding out ways to make her smile, laugh, moan…She was beginning to realize that up until Stevie, she was a hot mess. But Stevie brought out the best in her. She felt comfortable and attractive and funny and smart. It was as if all the things that felt stifled before began to blossom with Stevie in her life.

  What was she going to do when Stevie grabbed her hands one day, looked her in the eyes, and explained that she’d made it? That she was leaving? That this was fun, but it had to be over? What the hell was she going to do?

  She rolled onto her back and looked up at the dark ceiling. She was crying. In Stevie’s bed. That was not acceptable. She needed to pull herself together. She wiped at her tears but then felt a hand slip between the covers and her stomach.

  “Why are you crying?” Stevie whispered as she pulled herself closer. Stevie’s body was so warm. It made her eyes fill with more tears.

  “I don’t want to say good-bye to you.” Bernadette’s voice was strained from the emotion, but she didn’t care.

  Stevie kissed her on the bare shoulder. “We’re together now, though.”

  “But what do I do if you leave? What do I do?”

  “Baby,” Stevie said softly as she slid her leg over hers, their naked bodies pressed completely against each other. “Don’t think about it right now. Okay?”

  Bernadette turned her head to look at Stevie. Her eyes were sad, and she knew if she kept pushing, they’d both wind up crying like fools instead of simply being in each other’s presence. She leaned forward and kissed Stevie, kissed her as if it was the last time, kissed her as if she was on death row, and Stevie was her last meal. “I need you,” she whispered against Stevie’s lips when their kiss broke. “Fuck me. Please.” Stevie did exactly as she was asked. She slid her hand between Bernadette’s legs to her already wet center and slid two fingers gently inside her. She moaned into Stevie’s mouth as they started to kiss again. The way Stevie felt inside was so perfect. She filled her as if she was supposed to be there, as if Stevie was created for Bernadette and only her. She tried to push the idea of Stevie being hers forever out of her head. She knew she needed to focus on the feel of Stevie’s lips and teeth as they kissed, Stevie’s hand as she massaged a breast, Stevie’s fingers as she thrust, her thumb as it brushed Bernadette’s clit on each thrust. Everything that was happening was exactly what Bernadette needed. And when she felt the orgasm start to bubble in her center, then slowly build, then crash into her like an avalanche, she knew without a shadow of a doubt she was completely in love with Stevie Adams. And for the time being, it was going to have to be enough.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bernadette knew the second she stepped foot into the home Stevie grew up in that she was in for a good time. She loved listening to Stevie talk about her family, so getting the invite to attend was important. She assured her mother she would get back to the house before family dinner started at six. She wasn’t excited about it, especially because she’d not talked to Paul since the dinner that went horribly wrong. She’d thought about everything Paul had said, though. And even what Marci had said. Every single word. Out of both their stupid mouths.

  Instead of dealing with it, she did what she was go
od at. She avoided it completely.

  “So, Bernadette, your mom is deaf?”

  Bernadette was leaning against the counter in the kitchen with Stevie’s grandmother, Agatha. “She is, yes. Since she was sixteen.”

  “That had to be so hard on her.” Agatha was sautéing pierogies in butter in a cast-iron pan. She was exactly how Stevie described her and how Bernadette pictured her. Permed gray hair and all. “I guess it’d be easier being deaf from the get-go.” Agatha made eye contact. “Hearing everything and then having it taken away…must have been awful.”

  “She does quite well.” She shrugged. “And she still plays music on the old stereo. The bass is always turned way up, of course, but she loves it.”

  “Does she enjoy polka? I am a huge fan.”

  She laughed. “Is there bass in polka?”

  “I’m not sure,” Agatha answered while she stared off into the distance. When her attention came back to Bernadette, she grinned. “We’ll have to put some on later and find out.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “Tell me, your mom is an obvious reason as to why you chose your career, but is there another reason?”

  Her mind flashed back to her years at Northwestern, to her course load which started to look more and more like Connie’s and less and less like her own, to the anxiety she had about moving to Washington, DC, with Connie, to the dread that turned into determination. Her life choices were never because of her mother and always because of Connie, but how could she be honest and tell the truth to the grandma of the woman she’d fallen for? She couldn’t, and it was time to move on anyway. That much was becoming clearer and clearer. “I’m much better with my hands than my mouth.”

  Agatha’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

  “Wait,” she said. “That came out horribly wrong.”