by Leigh Hays
Lindsey returned her smile. “Hi.”
It was the closest that they’d come to each other since the kiss, and it felt almost too intimate. Rebekiah leaned in, and Lindsey met her halfway. Their mouths joined in a gentle caress that became more and more heated. Rebekiah shifted, and Lindsey moved with her. Their legs wrapped around one another, and the whole length of their bodies touched, skin on skin. Lindsey’s arousal started to ramp up again.
A big bundle of dog wormed its way between their bodies and licked Rebekiah’s face. “Ugh. Sera.” She flopped back, wiping her face with her arm.
Moment over, Lindsey laughed and rolled over. Sera settled between them. Lindsey scratched her head, and Sera tilted into the touch. “Does she always do this?”
Rebekiah lifted her arm off her face and raised an eyebrow. “Cock-block for me?”
Lindsey smacked her. “Really?” She made a show of looking between Rebekiah’s legs. “I don’t think that term applies here.”
“Well, what’s the female equivalent?”
Lindsey laughed. “I don’t know.”
“Where’s urban dictionary when you need it?”
“Across the room in my pants.”
Rebekiah laughed and started to move Sera off the bed. She would not budge and cuddled closer to Lindsey instead.
Lindsey chuckled. “Maybe that’s a sign.”
Rebekiah stared at her. “Of what? Entitled pet behavior?”
Lindsey shook her head and sat up. “No. That I should be going.”
She was starting to have second thoughts about sleeping with a client, regardless of who they were. And she still had a mountain of work to do before the end of the year. Now that her arousal had been taken down a few notches, reason had returned, and this seemed like the easiest way out.
“Oh.” Rebekiah’s face shifted, and her features went blank.
It was subtle, but Lindsey saw it. Rebekiah expected more. Lindsey hid her dismay. This was precisely the reason she avoided relationships. They always wanted more from her than she could give.
A shrill ring stopped her thoughts. Rebekiah rolled out of bed and padded across the room. She disappeared around the corner and the ringing stopped.
Lindsey stood, and Sera rolled over into her warm spot. She shook her head and leaned down to pick up the robe. She felt like a chicken for wanting to come and run.
Rebekiah appeared around the corner, naked, and all thoughts of leaving evaporated. She might avoid relationships but she still needed—no, wanted—sex. Her expression must have given her away because Rebekiah said, “See something you like?” and sauntered back to her.
Lindsey grinned. “I think so.”
Rebekiah’s phone rang again, and she glanced at it. “Shit, I have to take this.”
Lindsey sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Sera inched over and put her head in her lap.
* * *
Rebekiah stepped away and turned toward the reception area. Collette had called her twice in five minutes. “Hey, Collette, what’s up?”
“Hi.” Her voice sounded tired and flat. Totally off.
Rebekiah turned around. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Thea.”
Rebekiah walked back to bed and started to pull on her clothes. The need to get dressed to deal with whatever was happening was powerful. “Is she…” She stepped into her underwear.
“No, but she had a heart attack.” Collette added, “She’s in the ICU.”
“What does that mean?” She pulled on her pants. Sensing Lindsey’s concern, she squeezed her shoulder.
Collette sighed. “It means you should come home and see her.”
Rebekiah sat down and clutched her T-shirt to her chest. “Is she going to die?” Lindsey’s hand went to her knee.
“I don’t think so. But she’s got Alzheimer’s. She’s had it for a while.”
She let her T-shirt drop and reached for Lindsey’s hand. Lindsey squeezed it and put her other hand on top. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried to tell you. In person. But you were too stubborn.”
Rebekiah remembered the hard sell to see Thea’s show in October, and a twinge of guilt ran through her. “Oh. I didn’t know. For how long?”
“A few years.” Collette choked back a sob. “But it’s getting worse.”
A few years. She felt a pang of regret for keeping Thea at a distance. Tears pooled in Rebekiah’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Collette cleared her throat. “Just come home.”
“Does she really want me there?”
Collette sighed. “Of course she does. She won’t say it, but she misses you.”
Rebekiah glanced at Lindsey. Her face expressed empathy and support. She took a deep breath. “Let me see what I can do.” Not a commitment but not a no. It was the best she could do without saying, “I’ll think about it,” which was not what she wanted to say.
Collette said, “Don’t take too long. Love you. Talk to you soon.”
Rebekiah hesitated for a half second before she said, “Love you, too,” and hung up.
“Are you okay?” Lindsey touched her shoulder.
Rebekiah squeezed her hand and then stood. “Yeah. Fine.”
“That didn’t sound fine.”
Rebekiah looked down at her with Sera curled up beside her. For a moment, she wanted to share it all with her. The hurt, the anger, the pride, the confusion, all the bullshit that was her relationship with Thea. “It’s complicated.” Stuffing her phone in her pocket, she snagged the shirt and shrugged into it. “You’ve got to go.”
Lindsey stood. “Are you kicking me out?”
Rebekiah shook her head. That did not come out like she meant it. Talking about Thea always messed with her head. “No. No, you said you needed to go.”
“Work can wait.” She nodded toward the dressing area. “Let me put some clothes on, and then we’ll talk.”
She wasn’t sure what kind of talk she meant, but Lindsey didn’t leave her room to disagree so she waited. She glanced around the room and the clock on the wall. 9:17 p.m. No sense staying here. Somewhere else then. A neutral setting sounded like a good idea. She didn’t trust herself to be alone with Lindsey because she didn’t want to fuck her feelings away. Especially with Lindsey. She switched off lights and left the tripod and other equipment where they were—it could wait until the morning—and called, “I need to take Sera for a walk. Do you want some coffee?”
Lindsey swept the curtain back and said, “Sure.”
Looking down at her chinos and tee and then back at Lindsey’s tailored work clothes, Rebekiah smiled. “I might be underdressed.”
Lindsey shook her head. “It’s Providence. You’re fine.”
Chapter Fourteen
Snow glowed orange in the city’s ambient light, and the street was relatively empty in front of her studio. Providence was home to several colleges, and its nightlife dwindled over the holidays. Lindsey walked with them while Sera sniffed along the sidewalk, finding a particular tree with minimal snow piled in front of it. “Where do you want to get coffee?”
“I was thinking the Point Street Café. It’s on the way home. And dog friendly.” Which really meant that the owner let Rebekiah bring her dog inside on cold nights, health codes be damned.
Rebekiah’s phone dinged. She glanced at the name. Collette. They’re putting in a stent. Surgery scheduled for tomorrow.
She texted back. Okay. With a sigh, she put her phone back into her pocket.
“Who’s Collette?”
Rebekiah chuckled. “That’s a good question.” She glanced at Lindsey. “Sorry. She’s Thea’s ‘companion.’” She used air quotes. “I don’t know what Thea calls her, but they have lived together for ten years.”
“And Thea?”
“My mother’s ‘friend.’ After my father died, she moved in. She lived with us until my mother died. Took care of my mom after she got sick.” Thea’s relationship to her family had never bee
n defined but always assumed. As a teenager, Rebekiah hated that ambiguity, and they fought constantly.
“Were they together?”
Rebekiah shrugged. Her mother had relationships with both men and women. Thea remained the constant. “I don’t know. But Thea loved her.”
“What happened?”
She answered for the present and not the past. “She had a heart attack.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lindsey touched her hand, and Rebekiah grabbed it and squeezed. Lindsey did not let go.
She drew comfort from the touch as she spoke. Her gentleness made it safe to share, and she opened up. “She wants me to come home.”
They walked down Westminster. The light brightened; most of the street was shut down, but ghost lights shone through the plate glass displays. Amid the closed stores, a restaurant or bar stood open with a few customers outside smoking. “And you don’t want to?”
“Thea and I have a difficult relationship. Collette says it’s because we’re too much alike. I don’t know about that.” She shifted her hold on the leash, and Sera moved toward the middle of them. “We had a fight. A few years ago. We’re not speaking right now. And it’s Key West. Even if I wanted to go, there’s Sera. I don’t know who’s around for the holidays, and I can’t put her in a kennel. She hates sleeping alone.”
“I’ll take her,” Lindsey said.
Rebekiah paused and pulled Lindsey to a stop. She had heard the excuses roll out, knowing full well that her pride was holding her back. A pride that had replaced her anger and hurt over the years. “You would?”
“Yeah. I’m back for a week and a half.” She held up her hand. “Barring any catastrophes. I could take care of her for the week.”
Rebekiah stared. Lindsey held her gaze. The whole night was surreal. She finally got her to agree to pictures only to have her turn the tables and want something more. Then Collette called and opened up all her old wounds. And now she was offering to dog sit. Without understanding the baggage with Thea, Lindsey had effectively removed the last barrier and forced her into acknowledging her real reasons for avoiding the trip. She was going to have to go or risk looking like an asshole in front of Lindsey, which was more important to her than she realized.
“Rebekiah?” Lindsey squeezed her hand.
Rebekiah offered a grateful half-smile before they resumed walking. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
Point Street Café stood out among the dark windows of a boutique clothes shop and a children’s toy store. Lindsey ordered a latte, Rebekiah bought a mocha, and Sera got an oatmeal bone laced with peanut butter, which she devoured.
They settled into a table near the window where Rebekiah watched the snowfall before turning back to Lindsey. “What are your plans for the holiday?”
“My mother usually holds court at the Barrington house, and we’re all expected to show up.”
“We?” Rebekiah realized she didn’t know anything about Lindsey’s personal life, and she wanted to.
“My sister and me. And the rest of the Blackwell clan.”
“Sister? Older or younger?” She tried to imagine an older version of Lindsey and couldn’t. She had oldest child written all over her.
“Grace. Younger. She’s Coast Guard. She rarely makes it home anymore.” She sipped her coffee. “What about you? If you don’t go to Key West, then what?”
Rebekiah stirred her coffee. “Christmas was never a big deal for us. Thea prefers the solstice. I usually spend the day with my friend, Elena, her family. They’re my chosen family.” Rebekiah went into detail about Elena and her various relatives. As she described them, she thought about bringing Lindsey along and how they’d react. She’d never purposely brought a woman home to them. Through the years, they had met many of her lovers as friends because Rebekiah slept with her friends. But introducing Lindsey that way felt wrong, and if she did bring her home, she’d do it a different way.
When Rebekiah wrapped up a few minutes later, Lindsey smiled and said, “They sound…normal.” Her tone conveyed her delight.
Rebekiah paused and thought about Elena’s family in contrast to others, including her own. “Yeah, they are.”
“You met in college?”
“Yep. Junior year. Elena was a senior at Brown. Emma picked her up at a bar, and they had this torrid affair for like, four weeks, some ridiculously short time. But she clicked with the rest of us and stayed. Emma went to New York, Europe, all over. Elena finished law school, worked for a federal judge downtown until she went into private practice.”
“Were you ever together?”
Rebekiah laughed. “Elena and I? Oh, no.” She didn’t think a couple of threesomes counted. It was only sex, and she wasn’t sure how Lindsey felt about multiple partners. It was too soon.
“How did you get into photography?”
She shrugged, unfazed by the change in topic and willing to let her ask anything. She didn’t feel like hiding tonight. “I was a shitty painter. Easily bored illustrator. No patience for the final product. Cameras were always around. It was easy; I was good at it.” Thea had bought her first camera.
“Just like that? No starving artist phase?” Lindsey turned her cup in her hand.
Rebekiah laughed. “Well, not starving but definitely working hard at low-paying jobs. I did commercial jobs to make ends meet before my own work took off. For a few years, most of my work showed up in corporate brochures. What about you? How’d you get into wealth management?”
Lindsey laughed. “Sort of the same way. I was good at it. My mother’s social circle always had money even if we didn’t. I learned to navigate that world. I’ve got a head for numbers and an eye for patterns. It’s a combination that can make you a lot of money.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
Lindsey smiled. “As far away from my mother as I could get. A liberal arts school in Portland. Reed College.”
“That doesn’t exactly sound like Wall Street.”
Lindsey laughed. “No, it doesn’t. I majored in economics and East Asian studies. After graduation, I spent a year abroad in Beijing and Hong Kong, working for a boutique investment firm translating financial documents. By the end I was doing research analysis. I loved it.”
“Lindsey?” a voice interrupted.
* * *
Lindsey looked over Rebekiah’s shoulder and covered her dismay. Of all the nights to run into a fellow AA member, she had to be with Rebekiah. There was no way to avoid him. “Rory?” She stood up as a huge man crossed the room and wrapped her up in a bear hug. He was six-foot-four, rail thin, and sporting the biker look without a motorcycle.
He held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “You look good.” He glanced at Rebekiah and reached out his hand. “Rory Lynch.”
“Rebekiah Kearns.”
“I haven’t seen you around in a few months.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re okay?”
Lindsey nodded. “Yes.” She sensed a deeper question there, but Rory didn’t push it.
He nodded toward the woman behind him. “I just wanted to say hi. Don’t be a stranger.” He looked at Rebekiah. “Nice to meet you.”
Rebekiah smiled. “You, too.” Rory left, and Rebekiah turned back to Lindsey. “He’s not your usual buttoned-up type, is he?”
Lindsey smiled. “No.”
“AA?”
She felt an obligation to protect his privacy, so she hesitated.
Rebekiah held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I have friends in recovery. It’s none of my business.”
Lindsey glanced around the coffee shop. Rory was at the counter, and a few patrons were scattered around the room. She leaned in. “Not many people know about me.” She thought of Li Jing, Jen, and every other alcoholic she met and added, “Almost no one.”
“But isn’t that part of the twelve-step process? Making amends?”
“That’s not the kind of drunk I was.” She shifted, not at all comfortable with this conversation. She clutched her cup and fr
owned at Rebekiah’s skeptical look. “It would look bad for my clients to know. I make amends in my own way. I don’t need to shout it from the rooftops.”
Rebekiah placed her hands on top of Lindsey’s. “I’m not judging.”
Lindsey held her stare and tried to think of what she wanted to say. “Everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else.”
That was an understatement that she was just starting to unravel. Lindsey took a deep breath and let it out. “I got sober on accident. A colleague recognized me for who I was and called me on it. He challenged me to work the program.” She shook her head, remembering the fits and starts of that first year. “I had no idea how much alcohol impacted my life until I quit. It was not easy.”
“Why do it alone?”
Lindsey chuckled, bitterness rising in her throat. “Is there another way?”
Rebekiah frowned.
Lindsey waved her hand. “Sorry. It’s not funny.” She blew another breath. “Vulnerable is hard for me. It’s not something I like to do.”
Rebekiah smiled. “Me either.”
Lindsey glanced away; Rebekiah was staring at Sera. She felt relieved that she didn’t have to make eye contact. It was weird how adept Rebekiah was at sensing her moods. She knew just how far to push and when to pull away. Lindsey didn’t like feeling so transparent.
Rebekiah shifted.
Lindsey took the last sip of her drink and stood. “Let me take you home.”
Rebekiah stood, and Sera lumbered to her feet. “I can walk. It’s not that far.”
“I know, but I’ll feel better knowing you got home safely.” Back on the street, Lindsey asked, “Are you going to go?”
Rebekiah sighed and took so long to answer that Lindsey thought she was going to ignore her question. “I think I should.”
They arrived at Rebekiah’s building, and Lindsey reached out. “The offer’s still good. I can take her.”
Rebekiah paused with her hand on the door and nodded. “Okay, I’ll text you with the details.”
