“What about her husband? The mom’s, I mean,” Nell said, far less gently. “I saw a guy over there last week who looked pretty comfortable.”
“He’s Erica’s ex. He was only visiting.” Leslie couldn’t bring herself to look at Nell. I’m an idiot, and I’ll see it written all over her face. She relinquished any thought of defense. These two knew her too dammed well. “Look, I know. Yes, I’m taken with them,” she said to Paula. “Yes, I know how stupid it is,” she said, addressing Nell’s yet unspoken admonishment. “I just…fell for Siena so instantly. And, like you, I thought Erica was straight, and I know I’ll never do that again. I thought it might help the healing to spend some time with them.” In truth, she hadn’t thought at all. She’d simply been pulled into the dynamic.
“You thought she was straight?” Nell asked in obvious disbelief. “She isn’t?”
Leslie felt sick, and the same wave of nausea from when Erica had told her rolled through her stomach. “She’s bi.”
“I don’t understand,” Paula said. “If you like her, isn’t that better?”
Leslie grimaced. “Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been thrilled. If we didn’t live next door to one another and could just have a fun fling…if we’d met years ago, before Cassie tromped over my heart…if Siena weren’t in the picture as a reminder of how much more it hurts to lose a child…” There was no denying her attraction to Erica. Erica was beautiful, intelligent, tender, and nurturing. Her smile lit Leslie deep inside. She was fun. “As long as I thought she was straight there was no way I’d go there again, not after Cassie. And even if she were bi and still married, she’d be off limits. But to find out she’s single and bi, that she’s available…” And possibly interested, if a couple of looks Leslie had caught were indications. “But she has Siena. And Siena’s already twisted my heart around her little finger. Siena makes it…Erica could snatch her away from me without a word, or a warning—without even letting me say good-bye.” Leslie fought back tears. “All it would take is for her to meet some guy who wouldn’t require any explanation to friends or family, who she might someday deem better for Siena than me, or even her ex suddenly deciding he wants his wife and kid back.”
“Wait a minute,” Paula said.
“Uh-oh.” Nell shifted her gaze between Paula and Leslie. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Tell me you’re not suggesting that a bisexual woman can’t be faithful and monogamous with a woman,” Paula said stonily. “Have you forgotten I’ve been with your cousin for over twenty years? And without a single temptation toward a man?”
“Of course not.” Leslie sighed. “I’m not talking about you.”
“You could be, if you didn’t know me, like you don’t know this woman.” Paula straightened in her chair and folded her hands on the table, assuming her lawyer posture. “You haven’t even given her a chance to show you who she is. And her being bi, doesn’t have anything to do with what happened with Cassie. Cassie was straight. There’s no actual correlation.”
Leslie was so confused. Paula was right. Paula was always right. Leslie didn’t know how Nell stood it. “I know,” she said weakly. “It’s just…”
“It’s just that, in your mind, it leaves that door open for the possibility of another man swooping in and taking everything that matters to you,” Paula said, softening. “I understand that. If you’re scared, if you’re not ready, then okay. But don’t make it about something it isn’t. If you like this woman and are attracted to her, maybe you’re more ready than you think. Don’t slam the door on it. Let yourself get to know her, as a friend. Then as you finish healing, maybe see what happens.”
It sounded so easy when Paula said it. Leslie returned to Sunday night, stepping onto Erica’s patio after reading to Siena the way she used to read to Elijah. It was different, though. Erica had greeted her so warmly with her teasing and her appreciation. By the time Elijah had been old enough for bedtime stories, Cassie wasn’t waiting for Leslie. She was on the phone or already in bed, asleep. They’d been friends in the beginning of it all, but they’d never fallen in love. And Cassie had never looked at Leslie the way Erica did even now. Leslie knew she could fall hard for Erica, if she let herself. And then what? Then she’d be even more vulnerable than she’d been with Cassie. “No,” she said, jerking back from an invisible edge. “I won’t ever get involved with someone with a kid again. Bi, straight, or gay. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t think that’s what Paula was going for,” Nell said.
“I know it wasn’t,” Leslie said, meeting Paula’s gaze. “And I’m sorry. I know you love me and mean well, but I can’t. I’m so not there. And even when I am ready to start seeing someone, it’ll have to be someone without kids. I’ve been left by women. I can handle that. But kids? They’re a game changer. Losing a kid rips your heart right out of your chest. So…no kids.” Leslie let out a short laugh. “You wouldn’t think that would be hard at our age. How many fifty-year-olds have seven-year-olds, for cripe’s sake?”
“All right, then,” Paula said, clearly conceding the point. “But think about a friendship. It’s nice to know people in your own neighborhood to spend time with.”
Leslie simply nodded. She wasn’t going to argue, but she didn’t think she could do that with her attraction to Erica. No, even friends might be too much. Siena and Gus could remain friends, certainly, and she’d, of course, always be a good neighbor. Her parents had taught her that.
Yes. That’s enough. Good neighbors.
* * *
Erica switched off the mini lights around her patio and crossed to the porch swing along the far side. She settled into the softness of the thick cushion, grasping a cup of chamomile tea in one hand and the nursery monitor in the other. She liked winding down this way, the darkness all around her, the cool night air caressing her skin, the gentle motion of the swing smoothing any rough edges left from the day.
Her yard wasn’t as dark as it usually was. The past few evenings, since Leslie had moved in, the pool area next door was lit into the night. It wasn’t bright, just a gentle illumination from the old-fashioned lamps and a soft magenta glow rising from beneath the surface of the water. It was pretty.
Erica leaned her head back and wondered where Leslie had been. She’d only caught brief glimpses of her. Once doing something in one of the flowerbeds in the backyard—Leslie had waved and called out a hello—another time backing out of her driveway and heading off somewhere, Gus’s wet nose smearing the passenger’s side window. She knew Leslie was busy. She’d said she had work to catch up on, and then there was getting settled into a new life. And Erica had been finishing the deep cleaning of her house, reveling in some much-needed down time, and had been taking care of her and Siena’s routine commitments. Monday evening they’d been at the autism support group, Erica with the other parents and Siena with the playgroup, and tonight they’d gone to the quarterly joint gathering of several groups in the Los Angeles area. They’d all met for dinner, then gone miniature golfing. They’d been home Tuesday evening, and Gus had come over to play with Siena, but Leslie had stayed away.
What happened Sunday night? Erica pondered the question for probably the fiftieth time. She’d thought back through, over and over again, the topics they’d covered. The teasing. Their respective work. Erica’s move from Chicago. Trent, both of their orientations. Something had triggered Leslie and brought up whatever had hurt her. Erica just couldn’t figure out what it could have been.
She took a drink of her tea, then toed the swing into motion once more. A ripple of queasiness wriggled through her stomach, and she slipped her hand under her T-shirt and stroked her belly. She closed her eyes, enjoying her own touch. The queasiness ebbed, then returned. She set her tea and the monitor on the side table and stretched out along the length of the cushion, continuing the gentle caress.
She woke to a quiet yip and a hushed, “Shhh.” When she blinked, she saw Leslie crossing from the back door of her house to the pool. Gus trotted
behind her. Erica watched sleepily. Had they just gotten home? The house had been dark earlier.
Leslie wore faded jeans and some kind of baseball jersey. Her feet were bare. She moved with languid grace. She unlocked the gate to the pool and stepped through it. Then, before Erica could anticipate her plan, she stripped off her shirt and dropped it to the ground. Next went the sports bra.
Erica drew in a sharp breath. She remembered imagining Leslie’s breasts, filling in the details from the outline of the small mounds and plump nipples through the thin fabric of her tank top, but here they were before her. No imagination needed. They were perfectly shaped, her nipples erect in the cool night air. Erica’s clit stirred in its own waking. How long had it been since she’d held a woman’s breasts in her hands, stroked them, sucked a taut nipple between her lips? She squeezed her thighs together, increasing her arousal. The motion of Leslie’s hands to the button of her jeans drew Erica to a sitting position.
The swing creaked.
Gus looked in her direction.
Erica froze. Could she be seen in the darkness?
Leslie didn’t seem to have heard the noise or noticed Gus’s reaction.
Erica remained still. I shouldn’t be watching. I should go inside. How could she, though, without drawing Leslie’s attention and embarrassing them both? Besides, who was she kidding? She couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Leslie slid her jeans down her legs and stepped out of them, then straightened and stretched her arms high above her head, her torso tight, the triangle of dark hair at the apex of her thighs enticing. She dove into the water and disappeared beneath the surface.
Erica went limp, as though she were a puppet on a string that had just been cut. She blew out a breath. Now was her chance. She grabbed the speaker from the table and started to rise.
Leslie surfaced at the other end of the pool and shook the water from her face and hair.
Erica waited. A soft jingle drew her attention to Gus, who sat at her feet, gazing up at her. Panic seized her. She looked from him to Leslie, then back, praying he wouldn’t make any noise that would draw Leslie’s attention.
Leslie pushed off the wall and began a slow back stroke down the length of the pool.
Gus jumped onto the swing and snuggled up against Erica’s leg.
“No, Gus,” Erica whispered, keeping an eye on Leslie’s movement. “I have to get inside.” She eased him off the swing.
He jumped back up, planted his front paws on her thigh, and started licking her ear.
It tickled. She couldn’t help but giggle, but kept it quiet. “You’re an evil dog,” she whispered, conscious of the splash of Leslie’s strokes. She ran her hand over Gus’s head, then caressed the jagged edge of his damaged ear.
He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes.
Erica glanced toward the pool.
Leslie was still swimming, but stopped and lifted her head from the water every once in a while. Was she trying to find Gus? Checking to make sure none of her neighbors were up and around, possibly watching her?
Erica heated with embarrassment. She could no longer see Leslie’s nudity. Not really. Just a pinkish swirl through the water that flowed over her as she swam. She checked the distance to her back door. Could she make it? It wasn’t open, so there’d be the noise of it sliding. She was concealed by darkness where she sat in the corner of the patio, but as soon as she stepped out toward the house, there was more light, more shadow, more possibility of being seen. She could say she’d been asleep and Gus woke her. Pretend she hadn’t seen Leslie strip. Still petting Gus, Erica felt a collar around his neck and heard the light jingle of tags. Apparently, Leslie had decided to keep him. “I guess you found a new home,” she said softly.
He nestled down beside her and sighed.
She smiled. Maybe two.
As abruptly as Leslie had vanished into the water, she was out, walking up the steps, her nakedness front and center once more.
This time, it had a slow burn effect. Erica took in the water sluicing off all that smooth skin, the lines of Leslie’s lithe body, the subtle curve of her boyish hips. She imagined pressing up against her, feeling Leslie slip her thigh between Erica’s parted legs. She remembered Leslie posed playfully in the doorway, her sultry look and tone. Cabana goddess, indeed. She’d blown her chance, slim as it was, to get into the house undetected. She waited to see what would happen next.
Leslie picked up her shirt and pulled it over her head. As she smoothed it down her torso, she scanned the yard. “Gus,” she called softly, her voice low. “Gus. Where are you?”
Gus lifted his head from Erica’s lap and looked up at her.
“If you go quickly and get me out of this, I’ll buy you a special treat,” Erica whispered hopefully.
As though understanding every word, Gus jumped from the swing and scurried across the patio toward the gate.
Erica held her breath until he was safely back in Leslie’s yard.
“There you are,” Leslie said to the dog. “What are you doing over there? Siena’s asleep.” She murmured something else as she leaned down to pet him, then they headed toward the house.
Erica sighed with relief when she heard the soft closing of Leslie’s French doors. She retrieved her tea. The cup was cold. She took a sip, and her stomach turned. That was so close. After the way their last conversation had ended, Erica knew it was important to ease into their next encounter. It should be light and friendly, not her being discovered spying on Leslie in private. Although, Leslie had some culpability in the matter as well. Who strutted around naked in their backyard? A cabana goddess. Erica chuckled.
Suddenly, she felt chilled and exhausted. She needed some sleep, but tomorrow, she’d drop in and offer some help with Leslie’s new furniture. Yes. Light and friendly.
Chapter Six
Leslie stepped out into the bright morning and stretched. She’d waited to let Gus out until it was late enough to be sure Erica had left to take Siena to school but not so long that she’d be back yet. She’d watched all week to get their schedule down. What a chicken. She needed some distance, though.
Gus did his business, then ran through the gate leading next door.
“Come on, Gus,” Leslie called. “She’s not home.” She felt guilty keeping him and Siena apart because of her fears and insecurities but didn’t see a way around it. Maybe Gus could still go over to play with her whenever she was home. Leslie just wouldn’t go with him. When Gus didn’t return, Leslie started after him. He’d done the same thing the previous night while she was doing a few laps in the pool to relax. Maybe he’d found something gross to get into. He was a dog after all. A good dog, but a dog nonetheless. When she got to the gate, she came up short.
Siena sat on the edge of the raised patio, wearing her Wonder Woman pajamas, and stroking Gus’s head.
Leslie glanced at the house. The sliding glass door and screen were open, but there was no sound or movement from inside. “Siena?” Leslie said as she approached. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” Siena continued petting Gus.
Leslie squinted and looked deeper into the house. “Where’s your mom?”
“In her bathroom.” There was nothing unusual about Siena’s tone.
Leslie nodded and sat beside her. “Everybody runs late sometimes,” she said, drawing her own conclusion. But damn. So much for keeping a distance. She didn’t want to leave Siena out here, though, until she saw Erica.
“How come you haven’t come over to see us?” Siena looked across the yard at a bird hopping around on the grass.
Leslie tensed. “I’ve just been busy. And you’ve been at school,” she added, trying not to sound defensive.
“School doesn’t start till next week,” Siena said in her matter-of-fact tone.
“Right. I mean your day program.” Leslie glanced over her shoulder. Still no sign of Erica. “Did your mom say she’d be down soon?”
Siena fidgeted. “She said to go downstairs and
wait for her, but I came out here because I don’t like being inside alone.”
Something in Siena’s answer set off an alarm in Leslie’s head. “Siena, what’s your mom doing?”
“She’s throwing up.” Siena shifted her gaze to Leslie ever so briefly, then quickly looked away. “She’s not in a good mood. She hates throwing up.”
Leslie looked again into the house, uncertain. Should I check on her? They didn’t know each other well enough for that, under normal circumstances, but with Siena sitting outside in her pajamas, waiting presumably forever for her mother to come down and take care of everything, these weren’t normal circumstances. “You stay right here with Gus, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She knew where the master bedroom was, the floor plan being identical to hers. She knocked lightly on the partially open door.
No answer.
Then she heard it—the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the en suite. The bedroom reeked of vomit, and as she crossed to the bathroom door, she noticed a towel thrown over one side of the unmade bed with a wet outline creeping out from beneath the edges. She peeked into the bathroom.
Erica knelt in front of the toilet, her arms around the porcelain bowl, a pale blue T-shirt hiked up around her hips. She wore nothing else.
Leslie froze. How could she do this without embarrassing Erica, or both of them, for that matter? The question became moot as Erica reached for the flush handle, missed, and started to fall into the gap between the toilet and the wall. Leslie rushed forward and caught her around the waist before she hit her head.
“Oh, fuck!” Erica gasped. “Becky! Thank you for coming. I’m so sorry.” She slumped against Leslie’s legs. “Can you get Siena’s breakfast ready and take her to school?”
Leslie winced. This is going to kill her. “It’s not Becky,” she said gently. “It’s Leslie from next door.”
Erica went rigid. “Oh, my God.” She groaned. Then her middle clenched in Leslie’s grasp and she threw up again.
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