Beneath the Surface (Pink Bean Book 2)

by Harper Bliss

  Oh shit. Tears stung behind Kristin’s eyes. Sheryl was always so strong, so boisterous. The way she sat there, all broken and ready to give up, made Kristin’s stomach tie itself up in knots.

  “I do. I do choose you.” As she said the words, she knew they were a lie. She could have chosen to stay in Sydney for their anniversary, that would have been a start.

  “Then where have all our good times gone?” Sheryl’s voice broke. Would she cry? Kristin had never seen her cry. “Because if this is you choosing me, then I’m not sure it’s enough.”

  “Oh, babe.” Sheryl’s bristling was so much easier to take than her breaking down. Had Kristin done this to her? Turned her into this woman who was about to lose all faith in their relationship? Kristin rose and sat next to Sheryl, throwing an arm around her. There used to be a time, not even that long ago, when they were always touching. Even when they went out to dinner, they would scoot their feet close together and bump their shins together, just as a little reminder of what they had between them. That whirlwind romance that had started ten years ago and had now turned into this. “I love you,” Kristin said, as if it could solve everything. “I love you so, so much.” Feeling the weight of Sheryl’s body in her arms, her cheek pressing against her chest, reminded her of how much she loved Sheryl, how that love had grown and changed over the years, and how, perhaps, she’d let her ambition chip away at the beauty of it.

  Kristin kissed Sheryl on the crown of her head. A couple of strands of hair had turned gray and she wondered if she was to blame for that too. Or perhaps graying hair ran in Sheryl’s family, but if it did, neither of them knew.

  She felt suddenly protective of Sheryl, of her pain—the one she’d lived with her entire life and the one Kristin had been causing her by being an absent partner. But hard work was all she had ever known. Kristin had been spoon-fed the sort of work ethic that didn’t tolerate introspection. Both her parents had worked equally hard, while raising a child.

  “I’m sorry,” Kristin said before pressing another kiss to Sheryl’s scalp. “For not being here.” Sheryl didn’t have many pictures of when she was a child, but Kristin suddenly saw an image, based on the few photos that had been rescued, of Sheryl home alone as a little girl, abandoned by everyone she held dear.

  Maybe this was Sheryl opening up to her, reaching out. Showing a side of her that seldom surfaced. Kristin folded her arms around Sheryl a little tighter, hoping the fierceness of her embrace could say what she couldn’t put into words. I will never abandon you the way your parents did. It wasn’t that Kristin had lost the power of speech or couldn’t find the words, but this subject was so unspoken between them, to broach it now might make Sheryl shut down, make her pull away that outstretched hand, close up the little crack she showed in that ever-strong facade of hers.

  Kristin couldn’t tell her in words, but she could show her with actions. Kristin felt a protectiveness toward Sheryl that was contrary to their relationship dynamic. Sheryl was always the strong one, so unflinching, so sure of everything she said and did. Sheryl wasn’t the type to cry in Kristin’s arms. Yet, there she sat.

  Kristin probably thought Sheryl was crying because of the state of their relationship. While that certainly deserved its fair share of tears, the tears Sheryl was shedding, moistening Kristin’s blouse in the process, were not solely born from grief over having to tell her partner she didn’t want to move to Hong Kong, but because of what Sheryl feared it might do to her.

  Kristin intensified her grip around Sheryl’s body and Sheryl sunk deeper into her embrace. She knew where this was headed. She could so easily steer it away, divert Kristin’s affection, but she didn’t want to. Better an orgasm than a drink, she thought, and looked up at Kristin, knowing full well what the sight of her moistened eyes would do to her partner. She would see all sorts of things in them that she suspected Sheryl couldn’t express—Sheryl knew this because Kristin had told her once.

  “You don’t have to tell me in words,” Kristin had said. “I understand.”

  Sheryl had been both touched and aggravated by that. Touched by how Kristin tried, sometimes desperately, though always with a gentle, non-probing hand, to grasp Sheryl’s past, despite Sheryl’s unwillingness to share much about it. What was done was done. Sheryl had already shared much more with Kristin than she had with anyone else. There really wasn’t much more to say. What had annoyed her was the fact that this was the very reason she didn’t talk about her mother’s suicide with anyone. Sheryl wasn’t after understanding because it bordered too close on pity, the very last thing she wanted.

  “Come here,” Kristin said, pulling her up, lips already parted for a kiss.

  Kristin had been right about one thing. Sometimes, words were obsolete. They were in a bind, and this whole Hong Kong business had brought it to a head—something had to at some point. Just like Kristin had been unable to tell her about the offer, Sheryl was keeping her own secrets. If they couldn’t be close by talking it all through, if too much stood in the way of that, they could at least express their willingness to understand the other through what they were about to do next.

  They kissed, and it took longer than usual for Sheryl to shake off the tension in her limbs, the lingering hint of doom in her mind. But she knew Kristin’s kiss so well, knew what the softness of her lips did to her, and how the familiarity of her touch made her go all warm inside. Kristin had always had a way of making her melt, a way of making Sheryl remember how things had been between them when they’d just met: passionate and so right from the get-go.

  She pulled Kristin on top of her and melted more into their kiss, into the meeting of their bodies. Her mind relaxed and the tension in her muscles changed into an anticipatory one. Kristin trailed kisses along her neck, sank her teeth into Sheryl’s shoulder, and, with that, set the tone for this particular encounter. Sheryl guessed this was makeup sex, or at least a diversion from all the conversations they had yet to have. Or, maybe, they could resolve it all without words. The whole notion of moving away from Sydney would dissipate as their orgasms roared through the air. Kristin would work less. Sheryl would drink less. She’d go back to abstaining again. She’d be strong again. She stopped her train of thought, realizing she was expecting way too much of a simple climax, while all Kristin had wanted to tell her, by quite roughly biting into her skin, was that she was ready and up for a quickie.

  Sheryl tried to shuffle from underneath Kristin, which was a clumsy affair on the narrow living room sofa, to assume her more traditional position on top. But Kristin, uncharacteristically, wouldn’t budge.

  She used her teeth again and it made the hard pulse in Sheryl’s clit intensify.

  Kristin slid off her, pushed Sheryl’s T-shirt up, exposing her braless breasts to the air. Then, unceremoniously, she flipped open Sheryl’s jeans button and dug a hand straight inside her panties.

  Just like during the course of a relationship all different kinds of love come to the fore at different times, the same was true for sex. But it had been a while since Kristin had done this, had taken control like this.

  Sheryl reacted by lowering herself to meet Kristin’s hand better. Kristin’s slender digits never missed their effect, and just like she had allowed their embrace earlier to drain the tension from the room and her body, she sank into Kristin’s touch there. Ready to go where Kristin wanted to take her at the flick of a finger.

  Kristin’s wrist didn’t have much sway and Sheryl gave her a hand by lowering the zipper and pushing her jeans down a little. But, as it turned out, Kristin’s hand didn’t need a lot of leeway. She circled a finger around Sheryl’s clit, gently, letting her get used to its presence there, allowing her body to catch up with the quick chain of events. As soon as Sheryl relaxed under her touch, she went from circling to rubbing. The rhythm revved up from slow to frenzied quickly, and Sheryl didn’t stand a chance because after all this time together, Kristin knew exactly where to apply pressure. She didn’t waste any time doing so and had
Sheryl panting in a flash.

  Sheryl marveled at the fact that Kristin could do this to her, could have her on the cusp of orgasm in a matter of minutes. Could undo the knots in her stomach and the worries in her head, at least for a little while.

  The familiar heat spread underneath Sheryl’s skin, swarming out, increasing underneath Kristin’s finger.

  Sheryl clasped her hands to the sides of Kristin’s face and looked her straight in the eye. She gazed into Kristin’s dark stare, met it head-on. The tiniest of smiles appeared on Kristin’s lips. The kind that was so minute no one else but the person who knew her best in the world could see it, could decipher it for what it was. Sheryl latched on to it, then let go. She came at Kristin’s finger with a strength that knocked her out briefly afterward. Then, when the shock had worn off, her hand still pressing against Kristin’s cheeks, she pulled her close and, without words, told her how much she loved her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nothing had been resolved yet, and Kristin thought it important to show Sheryl she was making an effort. She had postponed her late-afternoon meeting until the next day and was on her way home to surprise Sheryl well before her usual time. They could order takeout and just sit on the deck and talk. Because they needed to talk more. Kristin was patiently waiting for Sheryl to broach the subject of Hong Kong, but it had been a week and she still hadn’t said a word. Kristin didn’t want to push her, but her boss was pushing her for an answer. If she said no—this had not been said in so many words at work but was silently understood—Kristin could lose her current position. The post of Global Sales Manager would go to someone else, someone willing to make the move to Hong Kong, because, of course, Sterling Wines wouldn’t only be sending her there on an expensive expat package for her own convenience. The company was growing, their share in foreign markets kept expanding, and having a satellite office in a tax haven like Hong Kong made perfect business sense. If Kristin didn’t go, someone else would.

  But, she had decided, her relationship was more important than rushing Sheryl to make a decision. Deep down, she also suspected that no matter how long Sheryl pondered the question, the answer would always be no.

  Before she turned the key in the lock, Kristin took a few deep breaths in order to push all work-related issues from her mind. She had come home early to improve their relationship, not to think about work.

  “Babe, I’m home.” Kristin did enough overtime to warrant her an early return home every Thursday, which was a day Sheryl often worked from home because she didn’t have any classes or recurring faculty meetings. No reply came. Had Sheryl gone to the university today without telling her? Something must have popped up. For all Kristin knew, really, Sheryl could spend most of all Thursdays out of the house and she wouldn’t notice.

  Kristin saw a half-empty bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter, which struck her as odd. She walked over to it. It wasn’t a brand Sterling Wines distributed. Did someone come to visit? Kristin looked out of the kitchen window and saw the back of Sheryl’s head. Her heart sank at the prospect of them having company. That wasn’t why she had come home early. Oh, well.

  She headed outside to greet Sheryl and their impromptu guest, wondering whether Sheryl had many people over on Thursday afternoons. If she had, she’d certainly never told Kristin about it.

  “Hey,” she said, startled to only find Sheryl sitting outside, a glass of red wine in front of her.

  Sheryl jumped. “What are you doing home?”

  “Surprising you.” Kristin took a step closer. “Looks like it worked.” She eyed the glass of wine but didn’t say anything.

  Sheryl’s glance skittered away. “You gave me a start.”

  “But you are happy to see me?” Kristin squeezed herself between the table and Sheryl’s chair and sat down on her lap. “I thought we could talk a little.” She smelled wine on her breath. She kissed Sheryl on the lips, then reached for the glass and took a sip. “Where did you get this? It’s not one of mine.”

  “Someone at the university gave it to me. I, er, felt like trying it.”

  Kristin wrinkled up her nose. “It’s not the best. Whoever gave this to you does not deserve full marks.”

  “Hm.” Sheryl reached an arm around Kristin and pushed the glass away from them.

  Kristin turned to look at Sheryl’s face. Her lips were stained dark red from the wine. She had a light blush on her cheeks and her gaze was still skittering all over the place.

  The question made it out of her mouth before she even had the chance to stop it. “Is there a special reason you’re breaking out the wine in the middle of the afternoon?”

  Sheryl shook her head. “Not really. I just thought I’d give it a try.”

  Kristin didn’t inquire further. It was odd to find Sheryl like this, but so many things had been a bit off between them lately. “How about I get us a little snack to go with it then?”

  “Sure.” Sheryl smiled, pulled Kristin close to her, and kissed her neck. “Hurry.”

  Kristin went into the kitchen, sliced some bread from a fresh loaf Sheryl must have picked up earlier that day, and poured some olive oil into a small dish. When she gathered the crumbs in her hand and opened the bin to throw them away, she saw a crumpled-up supermarket receipt sticking to the top of the plastic bin liner. She automatically reached for it. The price of the loaf was listed on it, as was a piece of vintage cheddar, and a bottle of red wine. Kristin had to look twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, but there it was, in black and white. The bottle of wine Sheryl had just claimed to have received from someone at work.

  Sheryl felt trapped, caught red-handed, as though she had committed some sort of vile act, or worse, had been cheating on her partner, while all she had done was bought a bottle of wine and drunk from it. Kristin never came home early. Often, when she arrived back from a business trip around lunchtime, she would go straight to the office and put in a few more hours. This was unheard of. But Sheryl could hardly hold that against her. Not when she had just lied. And why had she? It had just seemed impossible to tell the truth. Sometimes, that was all a lie was. There was no bad intention behind it, just a complete and utter inability to own up to something that had grown into a weakness. It wasn’t as if Kristin knew that Sheryl had bought the bottle herself, but that wasn’t even the point. The point was that she had lied and no matter the reason or how easy it was to justify, Sheryl was not a liar. Not like that. Not to her partner. She would tell her the truth as soon as Kristin returned from the kitchen.

  There she came already. A basket of bread in one hand, a small cheeseboard in the other. A tight smile on her face. As Kristin sat down, Sheryl tried to determine whether it was shame, that gut-wrenching emotion, that she was feeling the most. As a child, Sheryl had been no stranger to shame. It seemed to be abundantly available all around the house. Until, years later, she had said: no more.

  “I bought the wine,” Sheryl blurted out. “I can’t really explain why, but I’ll try if you insist.” She said it to the space in front of her, the lawn that could do with a mowing and the weeds growing between the flowers. Kristin’s mother would need to come around and tend to their small garden. It was one of her favorite Sunday morning activities—one that had kept Sheryl from taking responsibility for it.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Kristin’s voice sounded worried.

  “I guess me sitting here with a glass of store-bought awful wine says it all.” Sheryl turned to look at Kristin.

  “What’s going on?” Kristin touched her gently on the arm.

  “I miss us.” Saying those three words roused an unexpected bout of nostalgia from Sheryl’s soul. She’d never before been under the influence when they’d had a fight. Well, this wasn’t a fight yet, but the alcohol seemed to give Sheryl the ability to, oddly, see a few things a lot clearer, and she knew where this was headed. Another impossible confrontation between Kristin’s ambition and Sheryl’s loneliness.

  “Me too.”

 
“Then what are we going to do about it?” A feistiness she remembered from her activism days but never really played a part in her relationship with Kristin was coming to the surface. “This is as good a time as any to talk about the hard stuff, because what else are we going to do? Wait until it magically blows over?”

  “This is about Hong Kong, isn’t it?” Kristin withdrew her hand.

  “Among other things.”

  “We’ll need to make a decision soon.” Kristin shuffled in her seat. “Have you thought about it?”

  “I was just sitting here pondering it while drinking a glass of wine.” The alcohol gave Sheryl the unexpected ability to control the anger she already felt boiling inside of her. Anger because she felt so blatantly disregarded, because the solution to the Hong Kong problem was so very simple—at least to her it was. Sheryl would never have guessed alcohol could do that to a person. It wasn’t the kind of being-under-the-influence she remembered seeing as a child.

  “I know you don’t want to go.” Kristin’s words dripped with passive-aggression.

  “Give me one good reason why I should give up everything here and move to another country? Just one.”

  “The reason is sitting right next to you.”

  “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to use us, our relationship, our love, as a reason. It’s not a reason. It’s who we are. Or at least who we used to be. These days, I’m not so sure.”

  “If we don’t go, I’ll lose this job.”

  “And would that be so bad?” Sheryl blurted it out, and it felt damn good.

  Kristin shook her head. “Thank goodness you’ve only drunk one glass. Or shall I pour you another so you can finally muster up the courage to tell me what you really think?”

  “I’ve never lacked the courage.”