Heart Block

by Melissa Brayden

  Emory stared back at her blankly and the moment shifted. She took Sarah’s shoulders, pulled her in, and seized her mouth in sizzling answer. Suddenly, what Sarah’d imagined alone in her room several nights ago plunged into her reality. The taste of Emory, the feel of her as she pressed Sarah against the door in an ever-deepening kiss was shockingly potent and very real. In the quiet of the late afternoon, Sarah felt heat rising in her blood. She didn’t push Emory away, she didn’t stop what was already in motion, and it was all she could do to hold on. Then thinking stopped being an option. She moved her hands from Emory’s face, into her hair and gripped softly.

  The action seemed to jolt Emory. She straightened and took a step back. Her shocked eyes never left Sarah’s. They stared at each other, Sarah doing her best to catch her breath.

  Silence reigned.

  “I shouldn’t have…I think I thought when you…wow. I’m so sorry.” Emory fumbled for her keys in her pocket and reached for the door behind Sarah. “I’m gonna go. Really sorry,” she said one last time.

  Sarah stood in the entryway and listened to the beep of Emory’s car unlock and the subsequent start of her engine.

  What had just happened? She slid to the floor and moved her hand to her forehead in mystification. She’d just been kissed into next week, that’s what had just happened. Who knew a kiss could feel like that? She was still lost in it. She nodded slowly as the puzzle pieces drifted together in her mind. This was what being swept away meant. She’d heard the term before, but never quite thought it was a real thing. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and to her still-swollen lips.

  Swept away.

  *

  Sarah spent the next week doing what she loved most in the world, spending each moment of her day with Grace. It meant taking the week off from work, but between summer camp and the Banning Street house, they hadn’t spent enough one-on-one time with each other, and Sarah had every intention of correcting that before school began in just three short weeks.

  They spent their mornings at the park, people watching and insect observing, with an occasional game of catch, stopping every so often to make sure Grace wasn’t overexerted. In the afternoons, they attended movies, played cards, and spent lots of time at Grace’s favorite place in town, The Children’s Museum. It felt wonderful to spend so much time with her. She even found out that Grace had moved on to yet another new passion.

  “So now you want to be an artist?” Sarah took a lick of her pistachio ice cream cone. They sat at an outdoor table at Baskin Robbins, enjoying the even-keeled seventy-five degree temperatures.

  “Mhmm.” Grace caught the chocolate running off her chin just in time. Sarah handed her another pile of napkins.

  “What happened to being a mermaid?”

  Grace giggled and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t exactly serious about that, you know. I hear they’re not paid very well.”

  Sarah shook her head but enjoyed Grace’s dry wit, yet another in a long list of traits she’d picked up from her grandfather.

  “I’ve just figured out that I love art. I don’t know if I’m good enough, but I’m still learning.”

  “Well, I happen to think you’re really good. I love how colorful your drawings are.”

  “Emory helped. She says that color choice is a big part of the mood you want to elist.”

  “Elicit?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Elicit. We should go see Emory again.”

  Sarah stared at the table. “I’m not sure about that, mija. I finished up that job, remember?”

  “You could always call her.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so.” Grace looked sad. “But, hey, I know I’m not as talented as Emory, but I can help a little. We can also stop by the library and see if they have any books about drawing and painting. That could be fun, right?”

  Grace smiled, giving in. “Yeah. We could see what they have.”

  Emory. It had been a full week since they’d parted ways at the Banning Street house. She’d wondered if Emory would call, hoping secretly that she would. She thought about calling herself but didn’t quite know what she’d say. Hi, Emory, have you thought about that kiss as much as I have? Sarah rolled her eyes at herself. Emory was a gorgeous, successful woman who was quite comfortable with her sexuality. Sarah, and the moment they’d shared, was probably a fleeting blip on her radar and one it was clear she’d regretted as soon as it was over. She probably hadn’t thought about Sarah since. No, it was better to push the memory of Emory aside and focus on the here and now. Emory surely wasn’t dwelling on it; why should she?

  The situation did beg her to ask some difficult questions of herself, however. It was time she took a good hard look in the mirror. She was attracted to Emory; she knew that much. But did that mean she was gay? She wasn’t denying the possibility, but she’d never noticed an attraction to women before. But then again, when she thought about it, she’d never actually noticed an overwhelming attraction to men either. She could definitely tell you if she found a man good-looking, as she did James, but did that mean she was attracted to him? Sarah was beginning to understand that there might be an important difference. She liked James. He checked all the boxes. But he didn’t make her stomach flip-flop the way Emory did. She’d postponed her next date with James, feigning exhaustion, until she could understand things better. It seemed only fair.

  Despite whatever had happened between them personally, Emory had given her the extra shove she needed to take Immaculate Home to the next level. She would be stupid not to take Emory up on her offer to help. It was up to her to make the best life for herself and for Grace. No one was going to do it for her.

  *

  “Trevor, did you confirm lunch with Veronica from Penino and Partners at one?” Emory stopped next to her assistant’s desk.

  “Yes, she confirmed an hour ago, and you’re all set for your three o’clock with the developers after that. They have new art they want to run by you, and legal wants to touch base at four forty-five about the new language in the proprietary agreements.”

  “Damn it, I don’t have time for legal today. I’m going to be here until midnight tonight as is. See if you can make some time for them tomorrow morning or ask Lucy to meet with them if she has a break in her schedule.”

  “Will do.”

  “Also, Trev, make sure the Nashville office is back online. They were having uplink issues with their satellites, and Chicago had to transmit all their releases. If they’re not back, let me know so I can rip someone in IT.”

  It was all Emory could do to not slam the door to her office. Things were beyond hectic and didn’t show any sign of letting up. The “to address” pile on her desk was only growing, and she’d like to punch herself in the face for volunteering to be on the committee for the Women’s Health Initiative fundraising dinner. It would have been so much easier to just write a check. She dropped into her executive chair and swiveled around to face her monitor. Lots of new e-mails had flooded her inbox in the short time she’d stepped away from her desk, and after a few well-placed curse words, she decided it was best to just dive in.

  She scanned the list of bold subject lines with a sigh. She deleted many without reading them, filed others into the appropriate action folders, and typed short and to the point responses to the questions being asked of her internally. The last e-mail snagged her undivided attention, however, and when she read it, the world slowed down for her as if on cue.

  Dear Ms. Owen,

  Attached is the company profile you requested. Immaculate Home would very much like to take you up on your offer and put out a press release about our (fingers crossed) expansion. Just as soon as I get the go-ahead from management, I’d like to discuss the details of the release with you.

  Best Regards,

  Sarah Matamoros

  Emory stared at the screen, her thoughts now free of the work chaos and stress she’d felt just moments earlier. Instead, they were right back in the entryway of her mother’s hou
se where she’d last seen Sarah. Correction, kissed Sarah. Sarah, whose enjoyment in the simplest of things was so utterly disarming. Sarah, who saw past all of Emory’s bullshit bravado to just…her. Sarah, who had the most kissable lips she’d ever encountered.

  This was dangerous territory. She was attracted to Sarah. Of course she was, but it wouldn’t be wise to let anything come of that attraction. Sarah was warm, wholesome, and sweet—pretty much everything she wasn’t. Anything further would just be a bad idea.

  But she had to admit that she was proud of Sarah for following through and taking the much-needed step forward, despite the boundaries she’d stepped over the last time she’d seen her. Emory was confident she could get that little company some attention, maybe even a feature story in some of the smaller papers. She would handle this client personally. She owed her one.

  *

  It was after nine p.m. and Sarah settled onto the sofa, exhausted and content from a day at the zoo with Grace. It was the end of their week together, and Sarah would be going back to work at Immaculate Home the following Monday. She’d just tucked Grace into bed, and it wasn’t five minutes before she heard the rhythmic, even breathing indicating she was already fast asleep. She gave Grace one last look as she lay in the glow of her Harry Potter nightlight. As it should be, she thought, smiling to herself as she made her way to the living room.

  The week had been an active one, and Sarah sent a silent thank-you to the heavens for Grace’s continued good health. They’d only had to cut the day short once, and Sarah had been proud of Grace for speaking up about her fatigue. It had been eight weeks since the initial diagnosis, and Sarah was finally starting to trust Grace and the doctors. With careful attention, things were going to be okay. They really were.

  She grabbed the remote from her coffee table and set out to find a decent movie on TV to veg out to. She was jazzed to run into one of her favorite movies of all time, You’ve Got Mail. She snuggled up on the couch, eager to settle in to all the film’s goodness. But the activity of the day had definitely taken its toll, as twenty minutes later, her eyelids felt like they were weighted down with tiny sandbags and she struggled to keep them open. Just as she gave up the fight, surrendering to the onslaught of slumber, a distinct buzzing sound awakened her from across the room.

  “Damn it, Carmen,” she muttered irritably as she crossed the room, searching through the overflowing bag for her stupid phone. “This better be good.” She glanced down at the phone’s readout, blinking several time to find her focus.

  “Taken the plunge and talked to the boss yet?” the text message read.

  What was she talking about—the boss? She carried the phone back with her to the sofa, racking her brain for understanding. It was as she began to type back her confused and somewhat annoyed response that the sender’s name snagged her attention. Emory Owen. She stood and walked the length of her small living room, immediately awake. Her heart rate accelerated at the thought of talking to Emory again, and she was grinning at the phone as she typed.

  “Not yet. On my to-do list for tomorrow. Any advice?” She sat down again, waiting for Emory’s response, but then changed her mind and went back to walking.

  “Go in courageous and with lots of numbers. Hard to argue with evidence.”

  “Numbers I have. Courage I’m gathering.”

  “You’ll be brilliant.”

  Sarah smiled as she typed. “Thanks for the confidence booster.”

  “Not a big deal. It’s true.”

  She hadn’t seen or talked to Emory since the Afternoon of Sexy Kissing. But she was feeling bold and decided to shift the conversation a little and ask what she really wanted to know. “So how have you been?” It took several minutes for Emory to answer this time, making Sarah wonder if she should have left it with a polite good night and thanked her again for the well-wishing. The text that arrived, however, stopped her in her tracks and tightened her stomach muscles reflexively.

  “Mostly good. Busy. Miss seeing you.”

  She grinned. “I miss seeing you too.”

  “How’s the little one?”

  “Feisty. But at the moment, sleeping.” In between text messages, Sarah moved about the room, examining random objects and straightening things as if this were somehow the perfect time to clean up a bit. She shook her head at the nerves that tickled her skin. This is just Emory, who you’ve talked to many, many times. Quit being a moron. Get it together.

  “Oh. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  She decided to be a hardcore liar. “Nope, I was awake. What are you up to tonight?”

  “At the office. Contract language review. Beyond boring.” Sarah was surprised. She’d pictured Emory at home for the night, settled in, much the way she was. Geez, it was well past ten o’clock.

  “Is it possible you work too much?”

  “I’ve heard that before, yes. You?”

  “Sofa. Blanket. TV.”

  “Jealous. Wish I were there instead.”

  “Me too.” Sarah smiled at the idea, enjoying the exchange more than she was willing to admit.

  There was another lengthy pause before the next text message came in. “Should we maybe talk about it…?”

  There it was. Those three little dots that stood for so much more. She frowned as she pondered how to handle the situation, grateful for the fact that she had time to think before responding. Thank the beautiful universe for the gift of text messaging.

  If she wanted to sidestep what could be a complicated situation, this was her opportunity. She could downplay the amazing kissing another woman thing, act like it was no big deal. Happens every day. Safety is your friend, she reminded herself and began to type a conservative albeit cowardly response. After all, this was maybe not something she was ready to deal with.

  But her fingers stilled mid stroke.

  Nope.

  She just couldn’t let go of this new, other side of herself. It was scary as hell, and she wasn’t sure at all what she was doing or even if she should be doing it, but she had to find out about these feelings that had so boldly interjected themselves into her life. Was that such a horrible thing? Checking out what was behind door number two? She made her decision and hit the backspace, reconstructing her message.

  Deep breath. “I was hoping we could.”

  “Feel like I maybe crossed a line that day. Misinterpreted things. If I did, I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” She hit the send button and waited for her phone to vibrate back at her, her heart pounding in her chest at the direction the conversation was heading. She knew she was pushing the envelope, but she couldn’t seem to stop. Minutes passed without any response from Emory, and that wasn’t a good sign. It was possible she’d made the wrong choice, and now things would be forever awkward between them. The beginnings of regret rippled through her.

  Then her phone buzzed.

  She closed her eyes momentarily before checking the readout.

  “Will I ever see you again?”

  She collapsed onto the couch. All was not lost. “I think you will.”

  “Until then. Sweet dreams, Sarah.”

  Inexplicable relief laced with adrenaline. That’s what she was feeling. She stared mutely at Meg Ryan on the television screen in front of her. She was aware of the fact that she was smiling and shook her head in wonder at whomever this was who’d taken control of her mind and body. She was flirting with another woman via text message for heaven’s sake, and for the first time in a long while, she was excited for what life may have in store.

  *

  Emory said good night to the building security guard and strolled into the parking lot, peering up at the clear night sky and exhaling. She was exhausted from her long day of work, the muscles in her neck tight, but she didn’t care. Her spirits were high.

  She’d behaved like a teenager tonight, texting Sarah impulsively when she couldn’t get her off her mind. She’d promised herself that she would sidestep the Sarah situation. That would hav
e been the mature thing to do.

  So much for maturity.

  But Sarah missed her and had confirmed the connection between them at least on some level. Normally, Emory would pursue the other woman for whatever casual enjoyment she could get out of the situation, but with Sarah, it was more complicated. A) Sarah was not a declared lesbian, B) she terrified the hell out of her, and C) had a child, which was pretty much a deal breaker. Though she didn’t know exactly how to move forward, or even if they should, the fact that Sarah might be feeling even a little bit of what she was left her with enough to call the night a good one. She decided not to look beyond the here and now and enjoy the small victory. Maybe she would go for a run on the beach when she got home. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so tired. Checking the sky one last time, she grinned and was pretty sure the stars were twinkling extra bright.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah popped her head around the corner of her mother’s modest office. “Mama, can we talk for few minutes?”

  “Sure, sure. Come in, sweetheart. Sit.” Her mother took off her reading glasses and gestured her into the small space. “What would you like to talk about?”

  Sarah took a seat across from her mother and nervously pulled opened the ledger she carried with her. “Before you say anything, please hear me out.”

  “What am I looking at, mija?” She regarded Sarah with a mixture of amusement and reservation, turning her attention to the ledger.