by Julie Cannon
“You heard me. I’ve seen a lot in my time, and I know when people are happy and are meant to be together. I saw it from the very first day with Haley and Tammy, and I see it with you and Callie. I can’t miss the way you two look at each other. It’s like you want to disappear inside each other. I bet the sex is fabulous.”
Dillon choked again. “Jesus, Phyllis, will you give some advance notice before you drop another bomb?” If they had been talking about her professional life, she wouldn’t be so rattled. But Dillon wasn’t used to talking about her personal life or, rather, having someone tell her about it. Shit, she’d never cared what people thought about it.
Phyllis continued as if she hadn’t heard a word Dillon said. “You two were made for each other.” Phyllis turned serious. “Dillon, don’t throw this opportunity away. Haley and Tammy lost the chance to be happy with the person they loved. Don’t let that happen to you and Callie.”
Phyllis said the words so fast, Dillon wasn’t sure she heard them correctly. Did Phyllis wake up this morning with Alzheimer’s? She had never mentioned anything about her and Callie being together. But not only had Phyllis just said what was on her mind, she was waiting for an answer.
“Phyllis, don’t you think this is a little sudden?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. Call it old-lady syndrome, but I care for you, Dillon, and I care for that girl. She’s been through a lot with her useless parents and the awful situation her brother is in. She needs you, Dillon. She needs your support, your strength, and, most important, your love. Don’t let her slip through your fingers.”
Between bouts of lovemaking last night, Callie told Dillon that she had confided in Phyllis about her mother and Michael after dinner. She said she hadn’t portrayed herself as a victim in either case but simply said her situation was a fact of life. Both Bill and Phyllis had given her unconditional support and told her if she ever needed anything, to please let them know. Dillon knew they were talking about money for Michael’s defense.
“Let what slip through your fingers?” Bill asked, walking into the room smelling of aftershave.
Phyllis kissed her husband on the cheek. “Callie. I was just telling Dillon she’d better not let that girl get away. She needs to marry her.”
Bill laughed and gave his wife a playful hug. “You have to excuse my wife, Dillon. She’s a dyed-in-the-wool romantic, and that’s why I love her. She thinks everyone is destined for happily ever after.” He stopped and looked at her critically. “But in this case I think she’s right. I’d love to see you two together.” He paused a moment, then looked her right in the eye. “And I have the perfect wedding gift.”
Dillon hid her reaction to Bill’s last comment. Was he trying to tell her something? Did he just drop his four acres into her lap? She returned his gaze with unwavering eyes and searched for any sign that this wasn’t what she thought it was.
She was usually good at reading people, but Bill had thrown her a curveball and her patience snapped. She was tired of being strung along. They had been dancing around the bush with this deal and she had had enough. She needed to get on with this project or bail out altogether, and she couldn’t do that. It meant too much to her.
“I couldn’t agree with you more, Bill.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I now pronounce you married in the eyes of the Lord, your friends, and family. You may kiss the bride.”
Dillon turned from the elderly gentleman wearing a white collar to the woman in the pale blue dress who stood beside her. Callie Sheffield was arguably the most beautiful woman Dillon had ever seen. Crystal-clear blue eyes looked at her expectantly. A shy smile she had come to know over these past few months held her attention, while a warm hand cupped her face.
“You’re supposed to kiss me now.”
The voice was soft and melodious, teasing in its inflection. Callie—insightful, intuitive, and always right—was one of the few people Dillon Matthews allowed to actually tell her what to do. She knew how to listen to those around her, especially when they knew more about something than she did.
She bent her head and kissed the red lips as instructed, and a wave of heat practically welded her feet to the floor. The taste of Callie’s lips made her forget where she was and how long she stood there.
Finally, she released them and faced the crowd of people who sat in the church’s hard-backed pews. Some were friends, others were business associates, and dozens were people she had never seen before.
She took a deep, shaky breath. By all accounts this should have been the happiest day of her life, but as she gazed at the sixty faces that stared back at her, all she could think was, “How in the hell did I get here?”
Callie’s grip was tight on her arm. Callie, her wife. The past few months flashed through Dillon’s mind as she walked down the aisle toward the back of the small church in the quaint town of St. Charles. Callie wanted to be away from the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and Dillon had readily agreed. Even though she wasn’t in love with Callie and the ceremony was just another means to the end, she didn’t want a bunch of people she knew watching her practically bastardize the sanctity of marriage. She was glad that her side of the chapel held more of the overflow from Callie’s side than her own guests.
The three months that had passed since her conversation with Phyllis and Bill at their beach house in the Bahamas had been filled with nothing but Callie and had led up to today. Dillon had spent almost all her free time courting Callie—going for long walks and eating pizza in the middle of the night after making love instead of making dinner. They sat together on the couch, Callie with the latest lesbian bestseller, Dillon with her briefcase. On more than one occasion they went to bed and simply held each other until they fell asleep.
One night about three weeks after they returned from the beach, Callie lay spent on top of Dillon, their bodies flushed and sweaty. “Will you marry me?”
“What?” Callie lifted her head off Dillon’s shoulder.
“Will you marry me?” The second time she said it came out a lot more easily than the first. She had given the decision a lot of thought, definitely to the point of distraction. It was simple, really. Bill and Phyllis had weaved their way into their lives, and they had expressed their wish to see her and Callie together. So Dillon kept seeing her. It wasn’t a hardship, far from it. Callie was undemanding, fun, a good conversationalist, and fabulous in bed.
It didn’t take long for Dillon to figure out that the Franklins were living their granddaughter’s life through her and Callie. In a way Dillon pitied the older couple. They had other children and grandchildren, but the death of Haley had affected them deeply and they chose to get on with their life vicariously. Dillon wanted what Bill had. They wanted what she had. It was a perfect match and, after all, wasn’t this really just business?
Dillon had been seeing Callie exclusively, and theirs was by far the longest relationship she’d had in a long time. Usually she got so busy she didn’t have time to spend time with whomever she was dating and simply lost interest. But she made time to see Callie. They had lunch together when they could both get away, and when Dillon was in town they had dinner out or Callie cooked. Their evenings were filled with good food, laughter, and lovemaking. Even Greg noticed the change in her. He ventured to ask about Callie one afternoon when Dillon left before he did, which was rare. She had to keep the charade going. Too much was riding on it not to.
Dillon’s heart beat faster when Callie hesitated, a reaction she certainly hadn’t expected. She had never proposed before and didn’t have a perspective, but she thought she knew how Callie felt about her.
Neither of them had said the three magic words, but Dillon knew Callie wanted to. She had seen her pull the words back into her mouth on more than one occasion, and even though she wasn’t in love with Callie, she would say them if she needed to. She needed to finish this project. This deal was killing her and she needed to act now. It was business, and she always took care
of business.
“Dillon, I can’t marry you.”
Dillon didn’t expect Callie to say no. She had swept her off her feet and showed her what life could be like with her. Callie needed her and she was willing to help her with her problems. “Why not?”
“Because I just met you.”
Dillon thought fast. She had to counter her argument. Something told her that if she could get Callie to commit, Bill would sign the papers. The clock was ticking and the longer the delay, the more it cost her. If she didn’t get this issue resolved in the next two months, she would have to pull the plug on Gateway. And that was not acceptable.
“So? I want you in my life, Callie. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you, only you.” That was about the best she could do right now.
“Callie?” When she still didn’t answer, Dillon pulled the final ace from her sleeve. “I can help you with Michael’s defense. We can hire the best appellate attorney money can buy. Let me help you with this, Callie. Marry me.”
Callie almost forgot to breathe. Her ears were still ringing from her climax, and she shook her head a few times to clear them. Had she heard Dillon correctly? She had even asked her to repeat what she’d said, and she still wasn’t sure she heard right. Admittedly, she had dreamt this, even gone so far as to fantasize what it would be like to be committed to Dillon, but she never thought it would actually happen. From what she could put together, Dillon was married to her job. But lately even that didn’t make sense. Hell, nothing made sense anymore.
She continued to stare at Dillon and felt as if she had just asked her to jump out of a perfectly good airplane with no parachute. Well, hadn’t she? The analogy certainly fit. Wasn’t that what love was all about? Jumping out of a stable life into the unknown with absolutely no guarantees? She lifted herself off Dillon’s warm body and sat up. She pulled the sheet around her and felt ridiculous at her modesty at the same time. But she felt vulnerable, more vulnerable than she ever had, and she needed the psychological safety the thin material provided. Dillon sat up against her headboard.
Dillon was everything Callie wanted in a woman, but it was too soon. They had known each other less than six weeks. How could she make this kind of move? Dillon had driven her around the city one weekend to show her the buildings she owned there and pictures of others in different locations. But Dillon’s family and friends were still practically strangers to her.
However, she needed to consider Michael. Dillon had accompanied her to Lompak last week. The prison allowed two visitors per prisoner per week, but she waited outside while Callie visited with her brother. Dillon was right, she could help Michael. He needed a good attorney and Dillon could give that to him. She could give that to him. “Yes.”
And the wedding plans began. Now here they were two months later, shaking hands with friends, family, strangers, and the Franklins, who had integrated themselves into their lives and wedding plans seamlessly.
Callie thrived on the attention Phyllis gave her, and her confidence grew. She accepted Phyllis and Bill as the parents she never had, and Dillon and Bill seemed to genuinely like each other. Phyllis acted as if she were actually the mother of the bride. She and Callie pored over bridal books and flower arrangements, toured countless churches and reception halls. Amazingly, Callie even found time and inspiration to paint again. She had recently completed a landscape that captured the first morning in the Bahamas on the Franklins’ patio. It would be her wedding present to Dillon.
Callie asked Dillon to choose the dress she wanted Callie to wear, and one night, with Callie holding Dillon’s orgasm literally in the palm of her hand, Dillon finally agreed to wear a tuxedo.
Dillon shook the last hand in the reception line. “Now what?”
Callie laughed and put her arm through her wife’s. Her wife. What a wonderful sound. She was Mrs. Dillon Matthews. She could barely believe it. One minute she was struggling to pay the rent, the next married to one of the wealthiest women in the country. How she got there was a story she couldn’t wait to tell her grandchildren, but she knew what she needed to do to stay. Callie loved Dillon, plain and simple, and she would do anything to keep them as happy as they were right now.
“We go inside and dance, silly. Didn’t you listen to anything I said about today?”
Why was Dillon so distracted? Was she really that nervous? She had seemed relatively calm this past week while she and Phyllis dealt with one minor wedding crisis after another. They were the ones who should be anxious. Practically all Dillon needed to do was show up.
Dillon put her hand over Callie’s and smiled down at her. “Of course I did. I just don’t remember what you said.”
They walked arm in arm into the reception hall. Theoretically, this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. In actuality Dillon was ecstatic. The contract Bill had signed to sell his property was sitting on her desk at home. The long wait was almost over.
Until the property closed escrow and was recorded with the county, she needed to convincingly play along. She planned to wait an acceptable length of time before she told Callie she had fallen out of love with her. Callie would take it badly, but in the end it would be the right thing to do. Callie would not want to stay with a woman who didn’t love her.
“What am I going to do with you, Ms. Matthews?” Callie faked annoyance.
“Dance with me,” Dillon replied as they stepped onto the hardwood floor. The first dance was saved for the bride and groom, and even though this was not a typical wedding, Callie and Dillon danced alone. They fit like two pieces of clay molded together to form a striking couple. Callie’s dress reflected the blue in her eyes while Dillon had chosen a green tie to accentuate the darkness in hers. They swept around the dance floor oblivious to anyone other than each other.
“Everyone’s watching us. You’re supposed to look adoringly into my eyes and kiss me now,” Callie teased.
“What? I’m sorry, what did you say?” Dillon chastised herself. She held a beautiful blonde in her arms and her thoughts kept returning to the signed document on the desk in her study. She needed to get her head in the here and now, not twenty-three months from now when Gateway opened with its first tenant.
“I said you’re supposed to kiss me. I’m your bride and this is our first dance as a married couple. It’s tradition.”
Dillon smiled at Callie’s seriousness. “In case you haven’t looked too closely, we are anything but traditional.”
Callie didn’t care. This was her wedding too, and she wanted it to be as special and memorable as she had always planned it to be. Before she realized she was a lesbian she dreamed about marrying the perfect man and living happily ever after. Her wedding would be similar to this, but she would have six bridesmaids, a ring bearer, and a flower girl, and her father would walk her down the aisle in her white gown with receding train.
But what she got was quite different. Audrey was her one and only bridesmaid, no children attended her, and she walked down the aisle by herself, sad that Michael was not with her but elated to be marrying Dillon nonetheless. However, the end result was the same. She was married to the woman she loved.
“No, but we are dancing and I do want to kiss you, so why not kill two birds with one stone?”
Dillon lowered her head and, before she kissed her, said, “My wife, ever so practical.” The kiss was long and reserved. They were in public, after all, and not in the privacy of her home. A few catcalls circled them, but they were all good-natured and Dillon willingly played along.
Dance after dance they glided across the wooden floor. Several times guests cut in, asking Dillon if they could dance with her bride. It wasn’t long before every time someone mentioned the word “bride,” her stomach knotted. She was married, for God’s sake. Never in her life had she expected to be in this position.
A tap on her shoulder drew her attention. Expecting it to be another in the line to dance with Callie, she was surprised to see her sister Laura.
&nbs
p; She addressed her question to Callie. “May I dance with your bride?”
Laura often joined them for dinner, and Callie had instantly liked her. Naturally Dillon was left out of the wedding conversations, preferring to work instead. It was one thing to go along with the wedding and another to actively participate.
“Of course you may. But don’t keep her too long. I have plans for your sister later.” Callie winked at Laura, pecked Dillon on the cheek, walked across the floor, and sat down next to Phyllis.
“Your bride is charming, Dillon. And don’t forget about gorgeous. She’s hot in that dress.”
Dillon stared at Laura and felt as if she had never seen her before.
“Oh, come on, Dillon, don’t look at me like that. I may be younger than you but I do know what sex is. I’ve even had it, several times. As a matter of fact, just this morning—”
“Okay, Laura, I get the picture. And yes, I agree. Callie is beautiful.” Dillon led her around a slower-moving couple on the dance floor. “However, I’m not going to discuss my sex life with you. I never did when we were younger and I don’t plan to start now.”
As teenagers they talked long into the night, when they weren’t fighting over clothes and the telephone. One night when Laura was eleven, out of nowhere she asked Dillon if she was “gay.” Dillon was too stunned to answer, but Laura told her that it didn’t matter if she was, that she would always love her.
At the time Laura asked the question, Dillon was not yet ready to put a name on what she was just beginning to realize herself. Somehow her little sister had been able to see through Dillon’s words and actions and ask a simple question that turned her life around.
Laura swatted her sister on the shoulder playfully. “You’re no fun. And speaking of no fun, Dad’s watching us.”
Dillon didn’t bother to look around to find their father. She had barely said anything to him this evening, and he had returned the favor. “Probably comparing my dancing to yours.”
