by Aurora Rey
Mel sighed and shook her head. “Bella and I are doing a trial separation.”
“Oh. Oh, Mel, I’m sorry.” There might have been a time when she’d have wished doom on their marriage, but it was a long time ago. “What happened?”
Mel shrugged, seemingly at a loss. “We’ve been fighting nonstop. We’re trying to take a breather, let the dust settle.”
That explained why she was by herself. And clingy. “What’s causing all the tension?”
“Well, I don’t think the fertility treatments are helping.” She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Fertility treatments?”
Another shrug. “Bella wants kids. I didn’t feel like I could deny her because I’d already done the parenting thing.”
Amanda pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You know that’s a terrible reason to have kids, right?”
“Yes, right after having them to save a marriage.” Mel nodded, seemingly aware of the absurdity of what she was saying.
God, this was so none of her business. “Look, I’m not about to tell you—”
Mel raised a hand. “Don’t worry. We’ve hit the pause button for now.”
Relief spread through her. She didn’t stop to analyze whether it had more to do with bringing a baby into a failing relationship or the idea of Mel having a baby with another woman. Because, again, it was none of her business.
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
Normally, she hated when Mel did that. This time, though, she was in total agreement. “Let’s.”
“What’s going on with you? Tell me all the things.”
It was strange and more than a little satisfying to be the one with exciting goings-on. “I had my first meeting with the architect about the addition to the bakery.”
“Oh. Do tell.”
The thing about Mel was, for all her faults, she knew how to work a conversation. Being the center of her attention felt like being the center of the universe. It had been years since Amanda experienced it, but the pull was no less potent.
After the bakery, Mel asked about the house and the garden. She dismissed questions about her own work, calling it too boring to warrant mention. One drink became two. Amanda knew she’d regret the third—or was it the fourth?—but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d let loose. Her kids were off doing their thing and it wasn’t like she had to drive. The jazz in the background was soft and the company, whether she wanted to admit it or not, was good.
Maybe her vision started to blur a hair. Maybe she put a hand on Mel’s arm. Maybe Mel’s hand landed on her thigh. Maybe it inched up in a way that felt familiar but exciting at the same time. Maybe Mel kissed her in the elevator on the way up to their respective rooms.
Maybe she didn’t make it to her own room at all.
Chapter Four
Amanda blinked open her eyes. Sunlight poured through the windows. Odd that she hadn’t pulled the curtains. She moved her head and winced at the pain that ricocheted like a pinball in her skull. The reason for the headache hit her one second before the other details of the night.
Oh, God.
Slowly, she turned her head the rest of the way, hoping for something—anything—other than what she knew would be waiting for her. Mel’s face, with that half smile of sleep, mere inches from hers. Mel’s naked torso a confirmation of the hazy memory.
Oh. God.
What had she done? And for the love of all that was good and holy, why?
As if sensing her awakeness, or maybe her panic, Mel opened her eyes. “Well, good morning.”
The laid-back confidence was almost too much. If she didn’t think sudden movement might make her vomit, Amanda would have hauled herself out of bed and away from Mel faster than she could have uttered the word regret. Since vomiting remained a very real possibility, she covered her eyes with her hands. “What did we do?”
Mel propped her head in her hand. “We had an amazing time.”
“You’re married.”
“Separated.”
Right. They’d discussed that somewhere between Daniella’s summer plans and tearing each other’s clothes off. “Trial separation. You’re still living together.”
Mel shrugged, clearly unbothered by the specifics. “I’m not cheating on her. We agreed we could see other people. Is that what you’re worried about?”
It was on the list, for sure, but by no means the only thing freaking her the fuck out. “I can’t even begin to articulate all the ways this is wrong.”
Mel looked at her earnestly then. The same eager puppy eyes as last night. “But think how much history we have. That has to make it at least the tiniest bit right.”
That was the problem. Yes, Mel was her college sweetheart. They had close to fifteen years together and two smart, beautiful children. They also had years of fighting, Mel’s affair with the woman who was now her wife, and a rather nasty divorce. They’d finally settled into something resembling friendship. And now they’d gone and ruined it.
“I can see your wheels turning. You’re overthinking this, trust me.”
“Well, at least one of us needs to be thinking.”
Mel closed the distance between them and pressed her lips briefly to Amanda’s. “I’m thinking you’re incredible, even more so than I remembered.”
Damn it all to hell if a giddy flutter didn’t make its way up her spine. She shook her head, as though denying it might vanquish the weakness before it showed on her face. The movement reminded her she was hungover, and the hangover somehow reminded her of all the reasons having a hangover today was the worst possible thing. “What time is it?”
Mel lifted her head and glanced over Amanda’s shoulder. “Quarter after eight.”
“Damn it.” She climbed out of bed as quickly as her throbbing head and queasy stomach would allow. “Don’t look at me.”
She ignored Mel’s comment about not being able to keep her eyes off her and dragged herself to the bathroom. The hot shower made her feel semi-human but also drove home how much sex she’d had. Her thighs ached and, well, between her thighs did, too. As the water sluiced over her, she gave herself one minute—one single, solitary minute—to bask in how good it had been. Or maybe how long it had been. One of those things.
She was in the middle of that minute when Mel knocked on the door. “Care for company?”
A tiny part of her wanted to say yes, to invite Mel in and do it all over again. To savor being wanted and touched by someone who knew her better than anyone, who knew exactly what and where and how she liked to be touched. Fortunately, the sane and rational part of her brain was bigger. “Don’t even think about it.”
She wrapped herself in a towel and looked for her toothbrush, only to remember she was in Mel’s room, not hers. No toothbrush. No ibuprofen. No clothes. She yanked open the bathroom door. “This isn’t my room.”
Mel had pulled on a robe, but didn’t bother to tie it. Amanda couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting down to the curve of her breast peeking out. “It’s not.”
“All my things are in my room.”
“Would you like me to go get them for you?”
Walk of shame in a hotel where she didn’t know anyone or getting ready side by side with Mel. Those were her choices. “No, no. I’ll just pull on my clothes from last night.”
“All right.” Mel smiled.
“Don’t you want to,” she gestured to the bathroom, “go in there?”
“I’m in no hurry.”
Rather than arguing or cajoling, Amanda scooped up her clothes from the various places they’d been discarded and returned to the bathroom herself. She got dressed and ran her fingers through her hair a few times in an effort to tame it. A shadow on her neck caught her attention. A hickey. She had a fucking hickey.
She emerged to find Mel sitting on the corner of the bed in the robe and a pair of silk boxers. It was unfortunate smug looked so good on her. “Don’t smile at me like that.”
“I can’t help it. I’m happy.”<
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Amanda slipped into her shoes and shook her head. “The sex has addled your brain. This was a terrible idea.”
Mel got up and crossed the room with purpose. She placed a hand on each of Amanda’s shoulders. “Being with you is never a terrible idea.”
Amanda laughed in spite of herself. “This isn’t your classroom, Professor Stein. Just because you declare it doesn’t make it true.”
The insult didn’t stick for even a second. “You don’t have to admit it, but I’m right about this.”
“Well, I don’t have time to argue, so there you go.”
“I’ll take it.” She winked, then kissed Amanda on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs to check out and drive over to Daniella’s.”
Right. That. Crap. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
Mel offered a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
She hurried to her room, happy not to bump into anyone along the way. She changed, packed up her things, and cast a parting glance at the bed she’d not even touched. When she walked into the lobby, Mel was already there. She couldn’t remember the last time Mel was somewhere waiting for her and now it had to go and happen twice in twenty-four hours.
“I texted the kids and let them know we were running a few minutes late.”
Amanda handed her key card to the man at the desk and tamped down the flash of panic. It made perfect sense for Mel and her to coordinate. It wouldn’t give away spending the night together. Surely, the kids wouldn’t pick up on it. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”
Mel offered her a flirtatious smile. “Tell them what?”
“I’m serious. It would only confuse them. And potentially freak them out.” Hell, she was confused and freaked out and she was the one who’d done it.
That seemed to make Mel relent. “I was kidding. Of course I’m not going to say anything to them.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m not interested in doing it again.”
Amanda told herself Mel was joking about that, too, even though her expression was serious. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. We need to go.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It was the second time Mel had used the phrase. Much like the waiting, it stirred up all sorts of memories from the early years of their relationship. Memories of Mel teasing her about being bossy everywhere but bed, of Mel finding it sexy she was so driven and goal-oriented. Memories she’d not suppressed, exactly, but had set aside so she could get on with the business of her life. But just like the conversation about doing it again, she didn’t have the time or the energy to go there.
They parted ways at the garage and drove to Daniella’s dorm. Both Cal and Daniella sat on a bench out front and made a point of twiddling their thumbs to show they’d been ready and waiting. Amanda reminded them how many times she’d sat around waiting for them.
Between the four of them, they had both cars loaded in under an hour. Daniella opted to ride home with Mel, while Cal piled in with her. She started the trek home, wishing she’d taken some ibuprofen before getting in the car.
“Are you all right? You seem, I don’t know, dazed.” Cal regarded her with concern.
She waved her hand. “I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well. You know how I am in hotels.”
He seemed to take her answer at face value. “Yeah.”
It felt in that moment like she was keeping a secret from him. Not the sort of private detail a parent would obviously keep from a teenage son. More like something he maybe should know but she was ashamed to disclose. Ugh. “I’ll be fine after a night in my own bed. Tell me all about the party.”
Cal launched into one story after another. Him sharing so much confirmed her hope the party would be relatively tame. He chatted most of the way home and, when conversation lulled, she gave him control of the music. He sang along and didn’t ask any more questions, and she’d never appreciated angsty white guys with guitars quite so much.
* * *
Quinn lingered over coffee, reading the paper and taking a stab at the crossword. For some reason, weekend mornings hit her the hardest. Probably because it was one of the few true rituals she and Lesedi had. Fighting over the different sections, taking turns refilling their cups, passing the puzzle back and forth until they’d conquered it.
She no longer yearned to share those moments with Lesedi, fortunately, but she yearned to share them with someone. Even as her brain reminded her she wasn’t ready for another serious relationship, her heart longed. A condition she’d come to think of as the divorce paradox.
Knowing she could slip into a state of moping that would haunt her all day, she hoisted herself up and got dressed. After packing a lunch into her cooler bag, she went outside to load her kayak. Sunshine and a paddle would do her good. It would also let her off the hook for going to the gym—total bonus.
Although Cayuga Lake was closer, she decided to mix things up and drive over to Seneca. She could put in at Watkins Glen and paddle up the east side a ways before circling back. And if she found herself on the route that would take her past Bake My Day on the way home, well, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
She got to the lake before the picnickers descended and unloaded without crossing paths with another soul. A breeze gave the water a hint of chop, but she didn’t mind. It kept her cool and gave her arms something to work against. She wouldn’t have to feel bad about skipping the gym. She kept close to the shore, assessing and occasionally admiring the grand lake houses and tiny cottages along the way. It bugged her when the designs were clearly high-end but lacked anything resembling finesse. Some people clearly dropped money into things that did little more than show off their money.
She pulled into a cove to cool off with a swim and have lunch, then paddled back to where she’d started. After loading her kayak and exchanging hellos with a few of the folks coming and going from the launch spot, she remembered her plan to stop by the bakery. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced in the rearview mirror. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taken the swim.
No worries. She likely wouldn’t see Amanda anyway. And if she did, well, it was a compliment to her cupcakes that Quinn couldn’t resist them. Disheveled or otherwise.
For a tiny town, Kenota was bustling. She parked a few blocks away, telling herself it was to get a feel for the surrounding architecture and not to give her hair a few extra minutes to dry. Couples and families strolled along, eating ice cream and popping in and out of the handful of shops. She’d not been to the newest addition—Rustic Refined—but had heard good things. She’d have to check it out when she was less soggy.
At the bakery, a handful of customers occupied the few tables but no one waited in line ahead of her. She focused her attention on the contents of the case and not the fact that there was no sign of Amanda. It was relief spreading through her, not disappointment.
She’d almost convinced herself when Amanda emerged from the kitchen. Unlike the day of their meeting, she wore a crisp white chef’s coat with the bakery logo embroidered on it. Her sandy hair was pulled back into some sort of twist, leaving a few loose strands to frame her face.
Quinn cleared her throat. Her pulse definitely didn’t kick up a notch and she absolutely didn’t get a flutter of butterflies in her stomach.
“I’m about ready to load up. Do you need anything before I go?” Amanda said to the woman at the register.
Was it bad form to stare if the woman she was staring at hadn’t even noticed her presence?
“We’re all good here. Are you coming back or calling it a day after you deliver?”
“I think I’m going to head home. I’ve had a very full twenty-four hours.”
The woman behind the register nodded. “Good. I hope you put your feet up and have a glass of wine.”
Amanda turned back toward the kitchen. Quinn sighed. Not being noticed at all wasn’t a relief, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself.
But then Amanda pause
d. She turned and looked back, like she was doing a double take. Quinn raised a hand in greeting. “Hi.”
Recognition gave way to alarm. “Quinn. We don’t have a meeting today, do we?”
She probably shouldn’t notice, much less enjoy, the way Amanda said her name. She glanced down at her casual, not to mention damp, appearance. “If we did, I’d hope to be a bit more presentable.”
Amanda laughed. Quinn liked that sound even more. “Oh, good. What brings you by?”
It was nice that her primary motivation wasn’t hoping to run into Amanda. She hated lying, even over silly things. “Cupcakes.”
“Well then, you’re in the right place.”
“I mean, I took my kayak out on Seneca Lake, so I was sort of passing by. I didn’t come all the way here just for cupcakes.”
“Ah.” Amanda raised a brow, making Quinn realize her defense came out like a backhanded compliment.
“Not that your cupcakes wouldn’t be worth the trip. I just like to think I have slightly more restraint.”
Amanda lifted both hands. “You don’t need an explanation, one way or the other.”
Was that a trace of teasing in her voice? It sounded like it. How did Amanda manage to be so easy to talk to, even when Quinn seemed hell-bent on making an ass of herself? “Thanks.” She could leave it at that, but she didn’t quite want the conversation to end. “You look very fancy today.”
Amanda tugged at the hem of her coat and patted her chest. “I try to look the part when delivering wedding cakes.”
Quinn found the hint of self-deprecation endearing. “It’s definitely working. You could bark out orders like Gordon Ramsay and I have no doubt you’d send a whole room scurrying to do your bidding. Myself included.”
The woman behind the register—Tanya?—chimed in. “Maybe don’t give her ideas.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Right, because I’m so prone to yelling.”
Quinn squinted at the name tag on her apron. Yes, Tanya.
Tanya shrugged. “I don’t want you getting any ideas.”
Quinn tried for a playful smile. “Sorry.”
