“Are you lying?”
“I stopped lying, remember?”
“Hmm. I’m going to have to test your ability to say no.”
“How?”
“Yes or no, and you have to answer without thinking or dithering.”
“I don’t dither.”
“Liar! Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Kat fired back, having fun.
“Will you eat Brussels sprouts?”
“No!”
“Do you want a pet iguana?”
“No.”
“Do you want to travel outside of the States?”
“No.”
“Will you let me bring you something nutritious to eat?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I thought we already went over that.”
“Okay. Give me a little less than half an hour.”
Kat smiled. “You spoil me.”
“If you’ll let me.”
* * *
The professional in Wendy wanted to wow Kat with dinner and show her how delicious green food could be, but she stopped herself. She had no idea what she’d find in Kat’s kitchen, and more importantly, Kat was setting up her own space. The last thing Wendy needed to do was interfere. She ran by her market since she could quickly locate what she needed along with a few housewarming items: some hard cider, a jar of raspberry jam and some fresh strawberries.
She’d only seen Kat’s new place once, when Kat picked up her keys. Before they grabbed lunch together Kat had given her a quick tour of the quaint unit tucked behind a tall hedge of Japanese honeysuckle. She was tempted to buy plants for the bare flower boxes that hung outside the living-room windows but held back.
Without making the stop for groceries, it took a third of the time it had to drive over the hill to the valley. While she had not mentioned it at lunch, Wendy hoped that Kat’s choice had been influenced by her proximity. She knew that Kat’s job and her son contributed as well, but she secretly hoped the closeness would lend itself to seeing more of Kat.
She parked on the street and pushed open the gate. Kat had heard her and had already stepped out to greet Wendy. Her feet were bare on the stone path, with the rolled-up-at-the-cuffs jeans she’d worn to the pier and a T-shirt featuring a dreadlocked musician she didn’t recognize. Wendy shifted both grocery bags to one hand to give Kat a hug, but Kat frowned and took the bags from her, setting them on an iron bench next to the door.
“I get a better hug than that, don’t I?”
Wendy happily obliged, wrapping both arms around Kat.
“I probably stink,” Kat mumbled into Wendy’s shoulder.
“You absolutely don’t,” Wendy said still trying to sort out the floral scents of Kat’s perfume. “But you must be famished after all the moving.”
“About that…” Kat led her inside and paused outside of her nook-like kitchen. “I don’t really have a whole lot here.”
“You have plates?” Wendy asked setting her bags on the counter.
“In the cupboard above the microwave.”
“What about a can opener?”
“Drawer beneath the microwave.”
“If the microwave works, we’re set!” Hoping she had made the right decision, she pulled out tortillas, a can of beans and a bag of shredded cheddar cheese. “Do you trust me with your recipe or did you want to take over?”
Kat clapped her hands together and then pressed them to her lips. “I trust you,” she whispered.
Wendy leaned over and kissed Kat’s cheek. “Good. Then you can handle beverages. You said you had Diet Coke, but I brought some Angry Orchard, too.”
“That sounds so good!” Kat squeezed Wendy’s shoulders and leaned against her briefly before passing her to step into the kitchen. Everything was white, the cabinets, laminate counter and tiny fridge. Kat had placed a few trinkets along the windowsill above her sink including some glass angels and a heart-shaped rock.
Whether it was the tight space or the fact that she was no longer in her parent’s home, Wendy felt a difference in Kat’s touch. It wasn’t sexual, but it wasn’t cautious either, and Wendy’s body reacted, warmth whooshing through her.
In a matter of minutes, they sank into the wine-colored velour couch enjoying their simple burritos. Kat pushed a number of accent pillows to the carpet, and Wendy took in the open boxes and stacks of unfinished projects. “Are you feeling more liberated or more swamped?”
“Liberated, for sure.”
Wendy bumped her with her shoulder. “You sound like you’re back in high school.”
“I didn’t say ‘gag me with a spoon.’”
“It’s just a matter of time,” Wendy said with mock sorrow in her voice.
Kat pulled her laptop off the ottoman and did a quick search. “This is the eighties,” she said hitting play on Modern English’s “I Melt with You.”
When the song ended, Wendy searched for The Icicle Works and played “Whisper to a Scream.” “This is the eighties.”
“The drums in this!” Kat said, leaning forward.
“You should learn to play it. Do you have your drum kit here?”
“I don’t think that would endear me to my neighbors.”
“Too bad. I’d love to hear you do this.”
“I wonder if Travis would learn it with me.”
“Did your dad help with the move, too, or just Travis?”
“My dad helped on that end, but Travis and I did all the unloading here. It was hard driving him back. It’s not like it’s the first time we haven’t been together. He has slept over at Jack’s before, but somehow this feels different.”
“It is different. And it’s totally impressive.”
“Okay.” With one word, Kat reflexively deflected the compliment.
Wendy set her plate on the ottoman. “I was being serious. I think you’re really brave to embrace all these new things. Have you started the new job yet?”
“Next week! I have to say that packing up the office at Kindred Souls didn’t come with any emotional ambiguity.”
“Good to leave?”
“Jeremy and Evan’s wedding wasn’t the first thing that my boss and I disagreed over, but somehow that did it. It didn’t feel right to keep working there.” Kat scrolled through the choices that came up after Wendy’s video. “Remember this one?”
Kat didn’t move to clear the dishes or unpack anything more, and Wendy decided not to ask if she wanted help with either. Kat looked relaxed and happy. “Of course I remember that one.” Wendy leaned back against the couch and squeezed Kat’s shoulders.
Kat groaned and let her head fall forward. “Your hands are just like heaven.”
Wendy scooted behind her to have better access to Kat’s back. “You’re the DJ now.”
“You don’t have somewhere else to be?”
“Nowhere better, but say the word, and I’ll skedaddle and let you get back to settling in.”
“You haven’t said anything about my stacks of stuff.”
“That’s because they’re your stacks. I’m guessing they’re not going to stay scattered all over the place, but hey. It’s your place. If you’ve always dreamed of piling things up all over, who am I to comment?”
“I like you,” Kat said.
“Well that’s a plus because I like you, too.” She stopped rubbing when Kat leaned forward to type in another song. When she leaned back, Wendy didn’t hear anything at first. A full minute passed with strange street sounds before she heard the opening chords. Still, she didn’t recognize the song until it reached the chorus. At that point she sang along. “I might like you better if we slept together, but there’s something in your eyes that says never. Never say never!” When the song ended she said, “You’re not really worried that I’d like you better if we slept together, are you?”
“Maybe?”
“You can stop worrying about that.”
“What if I can’t stop worrying?”
“Then
I guess we’d have to sleep together.”
Kat leaned back to squish her. Wendy tried to extract herself, but Kat kept blocking her, even when Wendy tried tickling Kat. She found freedom by sliding from the couch and rose to her knees laughing. Kat reached for her and pulled her so close Wendy could feel her chest rise and fall beneath her. She wasn’t sure who she was to Kat. They were certainly friends, friends who had been on a date, but it wasn’t like they were girlfriends. But for some reason, she didn’t feel like she could move forward and kiss Kat.
Despite the conundrum, when Kat’s lips touched hers, there was no doubt that they were something. The kiss was still cautious, but at the same time assured, and Wendyfelt as if Kat expressed through the kiss emotions for which she could not find words. She followed Kat’s lead, maintaining her slow and sensual exploration, just the barest flutter of her tongue starting a new song in her head.
Kat must have felt Wendy’s lips shift into a smile. “What?”
“That kiss changed the song, and I like it.”
“Put it on.”
Wendy turned to type in Madonna’s “Crazy for You.” Kat smiled and pulled Wendy back up to the couch and accompanied the song with a kiss so sultry it took Wendy’s breath away.
Kat was also breathing heavily by the end of the song. She stroked Wendy’s hair and said, “Kissing you, I think I finally get that song. So much makes sense.”
She continued to run her fingers through Wendy’s hair and then stroked her face. She stopped but did not lean forward to kiss Wendy again. Wendy’s stomach fell. Kat’s expression had shifted. “But…”
Kat broke eye contact. “It was really nice of you to come and make dinner tonight…”
“But…we won’t be doing it again for awhile.”
Kat’s eyes found her again, and she looked both relieved and puzzled.
“That’s why you paused,” Wendy pulled back and sat next to Kat on the couch again, “When I asked if you wanted me to bring food, because you worried this would happen.” She stood and gathered their plates to take them to the kitchen.
Kat was right behind her, her hand on Wendy’s shoulder. “I’m not sorry you came over.”
“But…” Wendy said a third time. Her heart felt like someone was squishing it. She knew what Kat was going to say and what hurt the most was that she knew Kat was absolutely right.
“I wish that I was in a place where I could say that everything makes sense. I know that I want to be with you, but I worry that if I give into how good it feels to kiss you, I might never figure out who I am.”
“Knowing that is important.”
“I’m not asking you to wait for me,” Kat said. She wrapped her arms around herself.
Wendy unfolded her arms and hugged her gently. “Why wouldn’t I?” she whispered into Kat’s neck.
“Because I’ve never done this before, and I don’t know how long it will take.”
“You’re allowed to take your time.”
Kat pulled away and kissed Wendy’s cheek. “I hope that’s true because I like you a lot.”
“I’m not saying it will be easy because I like you a lot, too. But people are always saying that the best things are worth waiting for.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A month later, Kat met Wendy at the burger joint they liked halfway between their places. She sat down on the bench across from Wendy and plopped over sideways.
“Your day was that good?”
“June brides are the worst. Remind me why I wanted to work full-time with brides.”
“Because you’re good at it?” Wendy ducked to the side and smiled at Kat under the table. “Do you want a cheeseburger? I ordered you a Diet Coke.”
“Yes. Cheeseburger. Can we share fries?”
Wendy sat up and gave the waitress their order. After she’d left, Kat sat up and drank half her soda. “I needed that. How come you’re so peppy? I feel like I want to crawl into hibernation.”
“I didn’t just move into my own place and have to figure out a new job.”
Kat raised her drink to acknowledge the truth in Wendy’s words.
“Bridezilla?”
“To say the least. She’s not even my client, but she was yelling her head off and had Tasha in tears. The young girls I work with looked absolutely petrified. I walked over and sat down next to her and asked what was really bothering her. I said I’d been there and knew that getting stressed out about every detail was really about control. Or perhaps losing it. I got into some tiff with Miranda right before Jack and I went to pick out flowers, and I remember he had to take me out of the shop and talk to me about the tone I’d taken with the florist.”
“Did the bride say what was really bothering her?”
“Turns out that her sister has been dating a woman for a few months. She’s pregnant…”
“The sister?”
“No, the girlfriend was already pregnant when the sister met her, and now they’re going to get married before the baby comes.”
“And before this bride gets married.”
“Bingo.”
“Upstaged.”
“Twice. First kid to get married and first grandchild.”
“Ouch. Did you fix it?”
“I took her next door for some tea and listened to her. I think all she really needed was to get it off her chest that she was pissed at her little sister.”
“Ouch again. Big sisters are supposed to go first.”
“And she’s only marrying a guy. Everyone is so excited that the sister’s marrying a woman.”
“Upstaged by the lesbian sister. That is tragic.”
Their burgers came, and they dug in. “Did you want to slap her hetero-privileged face and tell her to be happy for her sister to have people be excited for her?”
Kat stopped chewing. The sister being lesbian had not seemed significant to her. She had wanted to slap her, but her anger had not come from identifying as a lesbian. She’d had to bite her tongue to keep from saying that she would give anything for her sister to be alive and in love with anyone. As she had done with the bride-to-be, Kat found a way to keep the conversation light. “I wish I had thought to say that.”
“You handled it better than I would have, I’m sure. You have so much more patience than I do!”
Was it patience, Kat wondered, or was it how quickly Wendy had aligned herself with the sister? It seemed that she felt a kinship with her that Kat hadn’t. Kat had connected with the competitive older sister and had managed to talk her out of her hysterics, nothing more. She had thought she was finished feeling angry with the woman, but talking about it with Wendy poked at the ambiguities of sexuality that haunted Kat.
* * *
“There you are!” Wendy said when she saw Kat stride into the kitchen.
“You need me?”
Kat’s tone was utterly professional as always. In the two months since she’d moved and begun her new job, they had met as friends or had worked weddings together. Even so, her words and the slight brush of her shoulder made Wendy wish they were alone again as they had been that night at her new place. She could so easily let herself drift into the fantasy of giving herself completely to Kat and had to mentally slap herself to redirect her brain out of the bedroom and back to business.
“I was supposed to have three serving tables outside, and I only see one,” Wendy said.
“The bride’s sister-in-law was going to pull out her craft tables. She may not be back from the church. This couple must have a ton of friends, and they are all on their way somewhere.”
“The roads are packed for Fourth of July weekend,” Cory said, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
Wendy shared a secret smile with Kat remembering their trip to the pier when she had taught Kat to see the traffic as a gathering of friends traveling beside her instead of a hoard of enemies keeping her from getting to her destination.
“The holiday traffic has almost doubled the time it will take them to get here. Will t
hat throw off your service?” Kat asked.
“It shouldn’t. They’ll get here hungry and thirsty, and we’ll be ready for them.”
“I’ll see if I can track down the tables.” Kat waved her phone and stepped into the backyard to make the call.
“She’s cool as a cucumber,” Cory said.
“This job is perfect for her. She has a real gift for helping a bride actually enjoy her wedding day. The other day, she told me that she started planning her wedding when she was a child. She dreamed out all the smallest details for a dozen years, and then when she got married, it was nothing like she’d imagined. She was so stressed about making everything perfect that she wasn’t actually present.”
“What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing.”
“You two sure work together a lot for nothing to be going on.”
“I’ve worked with you longer,” Wendy countered, “and there’s nothing going on between us.”
“You know what I mean.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who said that we made a great team.”
Cory crossed his muscular arms, not buying her response for a minute. “You’re both available, and you like each other. What are you waiting for?”
Wendy watched Kat on her call in the backyard. While she talked, she futzed with the flags in the centerpiece. One of the brides was Canadian, so each table had crisscrossed flags, Stars and Stripes and the red Maple Leaf.
Dawn and Sheryl had come to her first, and she’d suggested they work with Kat. They had kept it quite simple. They had been together for years, and Wendy had enjoyed hearing the pieces of their courtship when they had selected their menu. Dawn repeatedly teased Sheryl about how often they had traveled to Canada together. Each trip, Dawn had pointed out that they could get legally married in Sheryl’s native country. Every trip she had an excuse. We haven’t been together that long. Won’t your family be hurt that they couldn’t attend? They only had a week to spend with her family, and she didn’t want their vacation complicated by wedding plans. She didn’t know where the office was or what the procedure was.
“What she was really saying was that she wasn’t sure about me. But it was okay, I was always sure about her,” Dawn had said.
Kat's Nine Lives Page 23