Barring Complications

by Blythe Rippon

  Victoria tried not to make a face. “Right. I could recuse myself.”

  Genevieve laughed. “Relax, Justice Willoughby. There aren’t any cases on my plate right now that would even potentially put me back there. We can just take this one step at a time.” She dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We don’t have to plan everything out right now, you know.”

  “Hmm, I did have some plans for right now, actually.” Victoria kissed her mouth and then her neck, and when Genevieve moaned, she slid her hands beneath her shirt and eased it over her head.

  “Are you sure you feel well enough for this?” Genevieve breathed.

  “Stop talking,” Victoria said softly. She pushed Genevieve onto her back and slid on top of her with a sense of coming home.

  Chapter Six

  Genevieve

  Genevieve woke with a start and turned her head to find Tori sleeping soundly on her shoulder. The sheets were tangled around their legs, and she wondered if the cold had woken her. In the early morning light, the bruise on Tori’s face looked terrible. The colors had deepened, and it had expanded to cover more of her skin. But even so, she was beautiful in sleep. Relaxed, almost smiling. Peaceful, which was something Genevieve rarely associated with her.

  Banging downstairs caught her attention. She eased out of bed, careful not to disturb her slumbering guest. She tried to cover Victoria with the sheet, but couldn’t fathom a way to do so without waking her. She wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep through the incessant banging on her front door, but suspected lovemaking had something to do with it.

  She drew on a knee-length silk robe and tied it while descending the stairs. A quick finger-comb of her hair would have to do for whoever was at her door at—she glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room—six fifteen. Peering through the peephole, she saw a handsome man with ginger hair who looked vaguely familiar.

  She opened the door a crack and said, “Can I help—”

  He pushed past her, and only then did she see the woman and two children who had been lurking behind him. As she stood there dumbfounded—and, she realized, a little slow from sleep—they too barged into her living room.

  “Is she here? She’s here, right? I have to see her.” The man was frantic, but the woman—his wife, presumably—put her hand on his arm.

  “Honey, slow down. You’re probably scaring Genevieve.”

  “How do you know my—”

  “I’m Diane,” she said, extending her hand, “and the tornado over there is William. Her brother.”

  “Whose brother?” This was altogether too much activity for this early in the morning.

  “Mama, I’m hungry. When’s breakfast?” The little boy was tugging on his mother’s sleeve. “And my cast itches.”

  Genevieve noticed that his right arm was in a bright green cast and someone had drawn little guitars and pianos and drum sets all over it. She checked the belt on her robe to make sure it was secure before turning to William. “Excuse me, what the hell—”

  William started climbing the stairs just as the little boy gasped. “You said a bad word. You don’t get to watch SpongeBob today.”

  She shot him a dirty look before realizing that one shouldn’t give dirty looks to four-year-olds. Or seven-year-olds. She was bad with kids’ ages. She followed William up the stairs.

  “I’m gonna kill her. How could she not have called,” he was muttering. Halfway up he turned on her and barked, “You! You addle her brain!”

  “Okay, just stop right there—”

  “Genevieve Fornier, if you don’t let me see my sister this very minute, I’m going to let my kids run wild around your expensively decorated house!” He stomped up the remaining stairs.

  Genevieve turned to see Diane putting down the little girl in her arms, who tottered toward her sideboard.

  “Um, William?” Genevieve trailed after him. “Right, you’re Victoria’s brother. Got it. Listen, you can’t go in there—”

  “Just try to stop me!” His hand was on the doorknob.

  “Hey! She’s not wearing—”

  The door opened, and Tori stood there wearing Genevieve’s spare robe. She looked sexy in it. Or maybe she looked like she’d had sex all night. Or both.

  “Will, I’m fine,” she said.

  He pulled her into a tight hug, then quickly released her in alarm. “Wait, your ribs and stuff are okay, right?”

  She smiled. “Yes, you can hug me.”

  He held her again and said softly, “Your face looks terrible.”

  “I know. First time in your life your face is better-looking than mine.”

  He tried to laugh, but it came out as a half-sob. “We were so worried.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. Is Diane here?”

  “She’s downstairs with the kids.”

  Tori pulled out of the hug. “Well, let’s go see them.”

  He nodded and walked past Genevieve and down the stairs. She thought he might have stuck his tongue out at her.

  “Sorry my family just barged in here.” Tori crossed to her and toyed with the tie of her robe.

  “Well, this isn’t exactly how I pictured our first morning together again.”

  Tori leaned in, almost kissing her, and Genevieve could smell toothpaste and soap and the faintest hint of pure Tori. “You pictured our first morning together again?”

  Grinning, Genevieve decided not to deny it. “Maybe one or two hundred times.”

  “Well, I never want to be predictable.” She closed the distance between them and when their tongues met, Genevieve felt it all the way down to her toes.

  “Ew, they’re kissing, Mama!”

  They broke apart, and from her position at the top of the stairs Genevieve wondered how far up her robe the little boy could see. “I’m going to get freshened up while you assure your family that you’re okay.”

  Tori nodded, her eyes heavy with desire. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “Okay. But don’t take too long. I told you last night I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

  Genevieve leaned forward and smooched her briefly, marveling as she did so that Tori was hers to kiss. They had just turned to go their separate ways when the doorbell rang.

  Genevieve spun around. “How many more siblings do you have?”

  “None!”

  “It better not be the press,” Genevieve grumbled as she hurried down the stairs. Halfway there she was startled to hear the sound of a key in the lock, and the door opened before she could reach it.

  “Hey, G-spot!” Bethany sang. “You look refreshingly post-coital. I brought breakfast for everyone. Hi, Tori.”

  Genevieve stood there paralyzed as Bethie breezed past her toward the kitchen, laden with overflowing reusable grocery bags. She was about to close the front door when Sonya and Tara entered, carrying trays loaded with to-go coffee containers.

  “Coffee, anyone?” Sonya asked.

  Genevieve approached her front door cautiously and peered outside, looking in all directions. Satisfied that there wasn’t a clown car filled with Supreme Court justices parked in front of her townhouse, she closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place. She then turned to the household full of uninvited guests that she had just locked inside her home.

  In the living room, Will was holding the younger of his two children, while the boy rifled with one arm through Genevieve’s DVD collection. Diane and Tori were seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen, where Diane was inspecting the bruise on Tori’s face. Behind them, Sonya, Tara, and Bethany were unloading ingredients for…actually, she couldn’t quite figure out what those ingredients could possibly combine to make.

  “Genevieve, I know you’re abysmal at cooking, but do you at least have a frying pan?” Tara called out.

  She decided against asking how Tara knew anything about her cooking skills. “Second cabinet to the right,” she called out, still loitering in her entryway.

  There was so much life in her house all of a sudden. Sonya had left B
ethany and Tara to manage breakfast and was now monkeying around Genevieve’s sound system. Soon Billie Holiday’s “The Very Thought of You” was piping through the surround sound speakers in the living room and kitchen. The boy was asking Bethany why her hair was so big, and Will was dancing with his little daughter.

  “Will, how on earth did you find me?” she heard Tori ask.

  He kissed his dance partner. “Well, Rebecca, should we tell Aunt Tori a little story?” He kept dancing as he spoke. “Around four in the morning I got a call from my friend Ravi, who wakes up ass-early to run twenty miles every other morning. I guess while he was stretching he turned on the TV, and it’s all over the news that you were attacked. All he could see were news vans and cop cars parked in front of your house. So, he called me to ask if you were okay. Naturally I panicked, considering I knew nothing about what happened. We’ll get to your punishment for that little oversight later.”

  He repositioned Rebecca and began dancing in a circle, moving her arm up and down with his steps. “Your cell phone went straight to voicemail, and your landline was busy. I drove to your house, and there were some agents roaming around investigating. They wouldn’t let me in, but they did tell me that you weren’t there and your cell phone was broken. Then this guy Pollard said I could call your clerk, Wallace. He said Wallace deserved an unsolicited phone call from a stranger.” He moved Rebecca so that she was sitting on his shoulders and she squealed with delight. “So then I called Wallace. Are you enjoying this story yet? Riveted? Because living through it was way worse, let me tell you. So, then Wallace told me that you went home with the famous Genevieve. Nice to finally meet you, by the way,” he said to Genevieve, and resumed his tale without missing a beat. “Obviously, I didn’t know where Genevieve lived. Wallace said that there was a doctor in your hospital room who seemed to know her, and he had gotten her card. So he gave me Sonya’s number. I called and woke Sonya up, and she gave me Bethany’s number, and Bethany gave me Genevieve’s address. By this time it was about six. Bethany said you two would be delighted if I showed up right away.”

  Genevieve cocked her head at Bethany and raised her eyebrows.

  “Hey, at least I had the decency to bring breakfast and coffee!”

  “There’s coffee?” Will quickly passed Rebecca off to his wife and sorted through the lined-up cups, reading the letters drawn on the lids.

  With an entire roomful of people between them, Genevieve met Tori’s eyes and they shared a small, private smile.

  Bethany noticed and laughed. “Genevieve, why don’t you go upstairs and, you know, wash off last night. We’ll have breakfast ready when you get down.”

  All the action in the house ceased as everyone turned to look at her. Genevieve shot Bethany a withering look, more than a little concerned that Tori would feel uncomfortable with such unveiled references to their recent bedroom activities. To her surprise, Tori just laughed and said, “I could use some real clothes, too. I’ll join you.” She kissed her brother on the check and ruffled her nephew’s hair as she crossed to the stairs.

  “Who are you and what have you done with Victoria Willoughby?” Genevieve asked.

  Tori winked at her and dragged her upstairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Victoria

  Three hours later, they were all seated in a big circle in Genevieve’s living room and Diane was making no attempt to hide her laughter at her husband. “I’m sorry, but that is not the Single Ladies’ dance. You would have had better luck holding up one finger, and then outlining the shape of a woman’s silhouette. Will, you are epically bad at Charades.”

  “Actually,” Victoria cut in, “I think it’s just that he’s epically bad at dancing. You dance like Dad, Will. And you get the same look of concentration on your face when you play Charades.”

  “Really?” Bethany asked. “Because it looks like he swallowed a bug.”

  Victoria laughed with everyone else and added, “The men in my family are pretty stoic. When they choose to show emotion, their faces get confused.”

  “Look, I thought we were playing ‘Song Title Charades,’ not ‘Dance Like Beyoncé Charades.’” Will put the salad bowl filled with strips of paper back down on the coffee table.

  “When Tara is around, it’s always ‘Dance Like Beyoncé’ something,” Sonya informed them. “Obsessed, I tell you. Obsessed.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “If you’re all done with this piss-poor attempt to delay your own embarrassing display, it’s Genevieve’s turn.” He sat on the floor next to Diane’s easy chair.

  As Genevieve walked over to pick up the salad bowl, Victoria whispered, “it’s okay, bro. You’ll do better next time.”

  “Hey, I don’t need comfort from the enemy!”

  “All right.” Genevieve was poised to begin. “Victoria, Bethany, and Diane. You ready? Who’s timing me?”

  “On it,” Sonya announced. “Ready, and…go!”

  Genevieve drew a paper, read it, and blushed. She pointed at herself, and Diane and Victoria both yelled “I.”

  Bethany shouted “Syphilis!”

  Genevieve glared at her before moving on, and eventually managed to get her team to say “want” and “your.”

  Victoria lost it and cracked up when Genevieve blushed again and stood there at a loss.

  Bethany was particularly useful. “Okay, so we have ‘Syphilis Wants Your…’ Wants your what? Genevieve, you have to do something. Standing there like a dolt isn’t working. Oh, wait, is it ‘Syphilis Wants Your Paralyzed Lawyers?’“

  “Oh my God, Bethany, how dumb are you?” Genevieve threw up her hands in exasperation.

  “Hey, there’s no talking in Charades!” Bethany yelled.

  “Bethany, dear, you’re on her team. Do try to be helpful,” Victoria suggested.

  “Excuse me, has everyone forgotten that I’m up here?”

  “Sorry, honey, please continue. So far we have ‘I Want Your…’” Victoria was pretty sure she knew the answer, but was more interested in watching what came next than winning the game.

  Genevieve still stood there, stuck.

  “G-spot, are you embarrassed to act out ‘sex’ in front of your girlfriend and her family?” Bethany asked. “Because if you can’t act it out in front of complete strangers, you’re not mature enough to do it with the woman you’ve been in love with for forever.”

  Everyone burst out laughing. Genevieve turned even redder, and Victoria grinned at her. “Forever, huh, Vee?”

  Genevieve met her eyes and smiled sheepishly.

  “Oh! It’s ‘I Want Your Sex!’“ Diane shouted. “Next one—Genevieve, move on to the next one.”

  Victoria watched Genevieve jolt back into action. Jesus, she was precious. She loved having an excuse to look at her, to study the way she thought and moved and laughed and blushed. She had never allowed herself to openly stare at her, with her heart on her sleeve, in front of other people. She knew Diane and Will were whispering about her, and she didn’t care in the slightest.

  Genevieve reached into the bowl and pulled out another paper. After a moment of contemplation, she dropped to the ground and did a log roll. Then she made some convoluted gestures that looked like diving into a pool, indicating shallow water on one end and deeper water on the other. Next she put the two parts together, rolling and pointing to the deep end.

  Victoria was having a hard time keeping it together. The poised and statuesque Genevieve becoming a complete fool for Charades was a sight she’d never expected to see. Bethany was dropping popcorn into her mouth and making no effort whatsoever to guess, and Diane didn’t listen to a lot of music, so Victoria shouted “Rolling in the Deep!”

  “Time!” Sonya called at the same moment.

  “What happens if they guess right at the buzzer?” Tara asked.

  “Oh, let’s give it to them so we can end this interminable game,” Will said.

  “Wasn’t it your suggestion that we play Charades?” Sonya asked.

 
“Yeah, well, I usually win. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Honey,” Diane said, “you usually play with a six-year-old.”

  “So? Tommy’s very good!”

  “Is that why you set him up with SpongeBob in the other room before we started playing?” Tara asked. “So he didn’t outshine you?”

  “G-string, got any more popcorn?” Bethany asked.

  “Sure, in the pantry.” Genevieve sat down on the couch next to Victoria, who put her hand on her knee. “Actually, are people hungry? We could do something for brunch.”

  Five people rushed into the kitchen and rifled through the fridge and pantry, mumbling things like, “great, I’m famished,” and “does she have any cookies?” Evidently during their Charades they had burned through their breakfast of migas and fruit.

  Victoria angled herself to face Genevieve. “I can’t believe you just invited them all to stay longer.”

  “I can’t either,” she admitted. “It was out of my mouth before I even thought. But they’re all so…”

  “I know. But they’ll have to leave eventually. I guess I will too.”

  “About that,” Genevieve said. “I’ll go with you, when you decide to go home.”

  Her intuition had always been spot on.

  “You know, I’ve pictured you in my home so many times, Vee. But in my daydreams my house wasn’t a crime scene. I don’t want you to see it all ransacked.”

  Genevieve stroked her hair, making her melt. “I don’t want to be with you because of your perfect career. Or your unblemished house. Or your ordered approach to the world.” She grinned mischievously. “I actually want to turn your predictable life plan on its head. I want to see what’s under your hood.”

  “I thought you saw that last night.”

  “That was just a prologue. I want the full-length feature film.”

  “I think you’re mixing your metaphors, darling.”

  “That’s the point. I’m messy. Relationships are messy. And I want you to wallow in it. In me.”

  “Will I get dirty?” Victoria asked innocently.