by Kyle Autumn
She gulps again, so I run my hands up her back in soothing motions.
“Talk to me.”
After a deep breath, she says, “I don’t know how fast or slow I want to take it.”
I lean in and rub my nose to hers. “That’s okay. Just as long as you’re all mine.” Then I kiss her perfect mouth. Though I taste her nervousness like it’s sour on my tongue. Pulling back, I ask, “You’re mine, right?”
Quickly, she nods in small movements. “Yours.” Then she gazes down before looking at me again. “And you’re mine?”
“One hundred percent,” I tell her with no hesitation. “Have been for twelve years.”
Again, her eyes widen. They don’t return to normal quite as fast as before though.
“Twelve?” she asks, blinking at me, clearly bewildered.
I have to stifle a laugh. “You really had no idea?”
She shakes her head, her nostrils flaring. “No,” she finally says. “I thought I was the secret keeper.”
This time, I’m unable to keep my laugh under wraps. But it’s light. “With everything else, you are.” I squeeze her to me and kiss her. “What about you?” I ask. “Not quite as long, I’m sure.”
“What makes you say that?” She trails paths on my lower back.
I raise an eyebrow. “You’d have worried yourself straight to your deathbed by now,” I deadpan.
A closed-mouth smile curves her lips. “Fair enough.” She stares at me for a few moments in silence. Then she says, “You know me so well. But what made you know that now was the right time to tell me?”
I press my lips together and shrug. “Just felt right. Like you might understand if I told you now.”
When she doesn’t reply, I kiss her forehead, hoping to ease some of the worry I saw creeping into her brow.
“My parents will never understand,” she says, her voice shaky.
Pain grips my heart and slashes it in two. My need to put her in that protective bubble rises again. Because the last thing I want to do is come between her and her parents. I love them too. They’re like my own parents, given how they’ve treated me ever since I met them and Zo. But people who can’t accept that love doesn’t fit into a box have no place in my life. People who can’t accept me for who I am don’t need to stick around. Having Zo permanently by my side as more than just my friend would more than make up for their loss. I don’t expect her to see it that way yet, but I’ll do my best to prove to her than I can more than make up for it for her too.
“We don’t have to tackle that right now,” I reassure her. “One step at a time, okay?”
When she nods her agreement, I kiss her forehead again and rest my lips there.
“Just promise to talk to me when things aren’t going how you want them to,” I say against her skin. “I can be patient as long as you stick with me. I won’t do the back-and-forth we’re-together-no-we’re-not thing though. You’re either in or out. My heart’s not strong enough to keep losing you now that I have you.”
When I lean back to see how she took that, tears are shining in her eyes. God, I don’t mean to keep making her cry, but some things are going to be tough. The only easy part about this relationship is being with each other. We’re about to hit a bumpy road, one that might throw us a lot of obstacles we’ll have to overcome. But, if we do it together, we’ll make it. I need her on that page with me.
After a sniffle, she nods. “I’m gonna need your patience,” she says, her voice watery. Backing up, she takes my hands and squeezes them. Then she gives me a look that makes hope soar through my heart.
One that also makes my stomach plummet with worry.
Chapter 8
Zo
Together, Patti and I show up at Shiree’s fake engagement party. But, as far as everyone else is concerned, we drove here together. That’s all. Just like we normally would have. Everything is normal. Nothing’s out of the ordinary. Nope. Not a thing.
Well, maybe the feeling in my stomach isn’t ordinary. The clenching, the rolling, the churning… I’m Fort Knox with secrets, especially my own. But this one isn’t even one I want to keep. Yet it’s the one I feel I have to keep the most. The one I have to most strongly guard. Which is the worst kind of contradiction at a party dedicated to love—fake though it may be.
However, when Patti puts her hand on my arm to guide me toward Lyra, my stomach calms. She seems to do that to me, and I’m going to need that now more than ever.
Lyra, though, looks exactly like I feel. And I wonder what secret she’s keeping that’s making her feel that way.
“I’m so glad you two are here,” she stresses when she reaches us. She hugs us both. “You look amazing.” Then she turns her attention solely to me. “Especially you.”
“Normally, I’d take offense to that,” Patti mutters, smiling.
But this isn’t a normal situation we find ourselves in, she doesn’t say. And she’d smile wider at that, I bet.
Lyra seems too distracted to really care. “I’m sitting over here.” She waves at us to follow her.
At the table, we meet Blake, Chaz’s right-hand man. That’s only because he introduces himself. Lyra ignores him while we shake hands, and then we fall into an awkward silence. Patti and I exchange a brief there-is-Lyra’s-secret look before a man taps on the mic and introduces Mr. Charles Masters and Miss Shiree James to the party.
After Chaz’s incredibly well-spoken speech, in which he dropped the bomb that they’re actually married and he’s stepping down as CEO of his company and appointing Blake as his successor, we watch the happy couple dance. I’m so pleased that my friend has found joy and love. By the way she’s smiling and laughing with her new husband, she certainly seems content and blissful. Everyone deserves that. Including me, even if I don’t know what that looks like yet.
While at the bar in the ballroom, I can’t help the twinge of jealousy that skates down my spine at how open with their love they can be. Earlier today, the happiest moment of my life occurred, but it’s all marred by having to keep it a secret. Until when though? We can’t do that forever. I certainly don’t want to, and Patti won’t stand for it. I just can’t see the light at the end of this tunnel yet, and I don’t know what to do about it. She’ll be patient, but for how long? And how long can we go without anyone knowing? Wanting to be free to take my girlfriend for a spin on the dance floor isn’t too much to ask, is it?
Girlfriend. How weird is that?
Patti breaks me out of my thoughts when she tells Lyra, “Hey, I think Zed and I are gonna take off now that Shiree’s leaving.”
In agreement, I nod. “Yeah, I have an early start tomorrow, so I should head out.”
Lyra’s face falls, but she quickly shifts it to hide her disappointment. “Oh, okay. I should probably go too. If you two aren’t here, I don’t know anyone else.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask her, peering over her shoulder. “Because it looks like Blake is coming this way.”
“Oh, he was just being nosy earlier because I was with Shiree and Chaz,” she replies, attempting to dismiss me. “It’s nothing.”
I don’t buy it at all though. And I wonder if she’s hiding something just as big as Patti and I are. We’ve all heard what Blake did to keep Chaz and Shiree apart. Apparently, it didn’t work, seeing as they’re freaking married now. But it seems as though Lyra knows something we don’t. And has feelings she doesn’t want to acknowledge.
Wow. That sounds way too familiar.
Patti hugs her and quietly says something in her ear. It’s too quiet, so I don’t catch it. It does, however, make Lyra’s eyebrows rise before her whole brow creases. It isn’t my business anyway, so I wait until they’re done with their embrace before I move in for one to say my goodbye. Then Patti and I leave the party and head for my car.
“An early start tomorrow?” she asks as soon as we’re there.
I unlock the doors. “Yep.” Over the top of the car, before I get in, I wink at her. Then
I open the door and drop into the driver’s seat.
It takes her a few stunned seconds, but then she’s next to me in my car, placing her hand on my thigh. As I start the engine, I drop my gaze to her hand. That’s exactly where it should be when we’re sitting next to each other like this. I know that with every fiber of my being. Nothing about it feels wrong or morally broken, yet every fiber of my being also knows how my parents will feel about this. It’d be a lie to say I’m not scared to death, but I said I’d give this a shot. And the least I can do in private is really give us a chance to see what this is between us. I’m just worried I already know.
“My place or yours?” I ask her, staring straight ahead, my hand on the gear shifter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her grin. I think I feel it more than I can see it. It lights the dark car up with its happiness, which is yet another reason why I’m jumping into this with her. She has so much life and presence. Anyone would be a fool to pass up being with her. I can only hope she’ll be as patient as I need her to be.
“You pick. Doesn’t matter to me as long as we’re together.”
I look at her, and the truth shines in her eyes. So I say, “We’ll go to mine. That way, your car isn’t at my place overnight.”
That grin slides right off her lips. All of the happiness is sucked out of the car too.
Then I realize what I said and how that came out. So I backpedal. “Sorry. I just meant that… I mean, it wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious, but—”
She holds a hand up between us—the one that was on my thigh. After a silent moment, she closes her eyes and says, “I get it, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt. Okay?”
I nod, but when her eyes open, I nod again so she’ll see. My right eye must be tearing up, because she brings that raised hand to my face and wipes under my eye with her thumb.
She releases a deep sigh. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
Leaning against her palm, I close my eyes. After a rushed-out exhale, I blink them open, shift into reverse, and start the journey back to my place—wishing with all of my heart that my brain would get on its page.
***
Patti
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” I whisper in her ear from my side of her bed. “Someone promised me an early start to the day.”
Maybe it’s crazy, but no matter how many times we satisfy each other, it’s just not enough. I want more and more, and I’m immediately looking forward to the next time I’ll have her naked. Plus, it helps that she’s so naturally taken to being intimate with me. There’s no real awkwardness or fumbling. It’s like the worry center in her brain gets switched off when we’re between the sheets. Or in the shower. Or on her couch. Whatever. When we’re together, she’s a much more easygoing version of herself.
Until she gets in her head, that is. But that’s going to happen with her. That’s who she is—a worrier to the core. I knew that going in, and I’ll figure that out with her as much as I can. Even when it hurts, like her comment in the car last night. I understand how her brain is working right now, so I’ll work with it the best I can. It might not seem like the best to her, but that’s all I can offer right now.
She stirs when I trail my fingertips over her bare belly. Sleepily, she rolls over to face me, and I kiss her nose.
“There she is,” I say, hoping to coax her eyes open.
“What time is it?” she grumbles, her lids staying shut.
“I don’t even know, but the sun is out. So it’s time to get up.”
She still doesn’t move, so I roll her over until I’m hovering above her. That pops her eyes wide open.
“Okay, okay,” she says around a laugh as I nuzzle against her neck. “Don’t even think about it. I’m starving to death, woman.”
I raise my head to stare at her. “To death?” I question, one eyebrow up.
“Yes!” she exclaims, smiling and squirming out of my grip. When she’s up, she walks her naked body over to her dresser for clothes. As she puts them on, she says, “Someone’s sucked all of my energy. All I have left is enough to get dressed.”
“Why would you use the last of your energy to put clothes on?” I ask. It’s half sarcastic but half totally bewildered-sounding.
“Because I’m freaking hungry and I need to eat!” She flops back on the bed fully clothed, the back of her hand coming to rest on her forehead. “You’re going to have to make me breakfast.”
So dramatic. But I kind of love it. “Well, you’re in luck.” I roll out of bed and head for my clothes. “I know a place that already has breakfast ready and waiting for us. My coffee will probably be waiting for me too.”
She turns her head—only her head—toward me. “Let me guess. The Steam Room.”
Hooking my bra, I say, “Yep!” Then I realize all I have is my dress from last night. So I go to her dresser for a shirt.
“That’s right,” she drawls. “The place with the flirty and friendly baristas…”
My hands freeze with the shirt I picked halfway over my head. Once I’ve straightened it out, I hit her with a stare. “Don’t even.”
She mimes zipping her lips, but I squint at her to drive the point home. It’s utterly ridiculous that she thinks I’d leave her for Kimber. Or anyone for that matter. I already told her. I’ve waited twelve years for this. I wouldn’t fuck it up now that I have her.
After borrowing some yoga pants, I get her starving ass out the door. I’m going to have to get home soon so I can get into the office and make up for yesterday, so we kind of have to hurry. That doesn’t mean I want to. So I try to savor every quiet, hand-holding second we have together in the car. By the time it’s our turn in line, I’m glad I did.
Yes, my coffee is ready and waiting for us. Which isn’t a problem—for me, anyway. I said that it might be. But, when I add Zo’s lemon poppy seed muffin, Kimber decides to strike up some conversation.
“Trying something new today, Patti?” Kimber asks as she reaches for the muffin.
“It’s for my girlfriend,” automatically tumbles out of my mouth. Then I freeze.
Look at this logically though. The muffin is for my girlfriend. And I’m damn proud of being with Zo. Even if she’s frozen in a wide-eyed stare that’s shooing laser beams into the back of my head. I can’t see her, but I can damn well feel her.
Kimber must notice too. She flicks her gaze from me to Zo and then back to me. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”
I turn my head toward Zo, who is most definitely killing me with lasers. And her chest rapidly rises and falls with her quick breaths. As her expression morphs more into fear rather than anger, I know exactly what’s happening. But she rushes out of the coffee shop before I can help her.
I hastily snatch a ten-dollar bill out of my wallet and slide it across the counter. “I am now,” I inform Kimber.
She covers my hand with hers. “You might want to tell her that.” Then she takes the bill and hands me the bag with Zo’s muffin.
I accept the bag and pick my coffee up from the counter. “Keep the change.”
When I’m on the sidewalk, I look both ways to find Zo. She’s off to the right, toward where she parked her car, squatting on the ground. Hunched over and breathing far too hard. I rush over to her and nearly drop my coffee while attempting to get my arms around her, but that hardly matters. Coffee is replaceable. A worried-to-death Zo is not.
“Hey,” I say quietly near her ear. “It’s okay. Breathe.”
“It’s not okay!” she chokes out. When she raises her head, she looks at me with tear-stained cheeks. Sobbing, she falls to the ground on her butt and slumps over almost into a ball.
My heart breaks, though I’m not one hundred percent certain what part isn’t okay. Is it not okay that we’re together? Is it not okay that she seems ashamed of being with me? Is it not okay that we have to hide this from everyone? Is it not okay that I almost told someone we’re together? Is it not okay that I’m so over the mo
on about being with her that I want to tell everyone? What exactly isn’t okay?
She’s not up for those questions though. That much I know. I’ll ask her when she’s calmer. For now, I need to comfort her so I actually still have a girlfriend later.
I join her on the ground and remove her muffin from the bag. I even unwrap it for her and put the garbage back in the bag. Then I slide my free arm around her shoulders, squeeze her to me, and say in a low voice, “Come back to now, Zed.” Maybe it’s cheating, but I also wave the muffin below her face, hoping the scent wafts up to her nose.
Luckily, it works. She starts to calm down, her shoulders not shuddering with the force of her tears anymore.
“Take a deep breath,” I continue to tell her. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
She does until she can sit all the way up without breaking down again. I bend my left knee and rest my elbow on it, keeping the muffin within her reach so she can take it when she’s ready. After a few moments, she does, and I think I see a hint of a smile on her lips. I definitely do when she bites into it.
“I’m a basket case,” she says around a mouthful of muffin.
I squeeze her closer. “You can say that again.”
She scoffs, but it’s all in jest. “You were supposed to tell me I’m not.”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “‘Best friends’”—I use air quotes with my free hand—“tell each other the truth.”
When she turns her head fully toward me, confusion is swimming in her gaze. After a deep sigh, she says, “Seriously. I don’t know how to do any of this. It’s a simple word, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon, and I freaked out.”
“Well,” I say after a single nod, “I think the first step is to get off the dirty sidewalk. That might help.”
She softens her facial expression and her rigid posture. “You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t bother you.”
