The Do-Over

by Georgia Beers

“Time to start dinner.” Easton said it aloud, something she found herself doing often when Emma was at Connor’s. While she enjoyed their arrangement and having time to do things for herself without having to worry about her daughter, Easton also missed her terribly, even missed the constant noise created by having a seven-year-old. When the house was quiet, Easton had taken to turning on music or the television, even if she wasn’t watching, or talking to herself, like just now. She’d had no idea when Emma was born just how enormously her life and feelings would change. Oh, everybody warned her. “Everything will be different,” they said. “You’ll be stunned by how deeply you love your child,” they said. “You have no idea how much your life is going to change,” they said. Easton took all of it with a grain of salt—and lots of nods and smiles. She and Connor read dozens of books. They scoured the internet. Read blogs. Joined chat boards. Went to classes. They were ready, and they knew it.

  Easton felt herself smile as she pulled the chicken from the refrigerator. Yeah, they’d had no idea. Zero. They were so arrogant in their assumptions of what it would be like. They weren’t even close to being ready for what it meant to be parents. Physically. Emotionally. Financially. Not even close.

  It didn’t matter, though. From that day on, nothing mattered but Emma. She came first in everything. Easton’s own needs took a back seat. So did Connor’s, something he had not been prepared for. The sun rose and set around Emma. Still did, if Easton was being honest with herself. She just had a better handle on it now.

  Expectant parents were presumptuous in (what they thought was) their knowledge of parenting.

  New parents were wide-eyed and shocked.

  Little cartoon drawings of herself and Connor in those two time periods often appeared in Easton’s head. In the first one, the two of them are hanging out casually, feet up on the coffee table, chatting happily, thinking they’ve got it all figured out and they’re ready. Once Emma was born, the cartoon versions of them just stand there, blinking, eyes huge, heads turning this way and that as if wondering which way to go, where to look, what to do now, how had they gotten here… She and Connor had done exactly that: they were obnoxiously sure of themselves, then flabbergasted at how intense it all was once Emma arrived. Connor’s hair had gone from neat and fashion-forward to perpetual disarray, sticking straight up from his head, as he ran his fingers through it constantly while struggling with the right course of action when it came to his newborn daughter. And then he’d lost it within the course of two years, as if it couldn’t take the pressure of fatherhood any longer and simply…left. They still joked about it. For Easton’s part, she had lived in yoga pants and ratty T-shirts stained with spit-up, formula, baby food, or all three, makeup-less and utterly sleep-deprived, for the better part of a year, shuffling through the house like a zombie, rarely aware of which day of the week it was. They were laughably disheveled. Well…she could laugh now.

  Ah, parenthood.

  Easton grinned and allowed herself a moment to miss her baby terribly before she tucked that back down a bit so she could focus on the chicken, which she finished cleaning and seasoning and had ready to go into the oven. The rain had picked up, the gentle rapping on the windows changing to a steadier drumbeat. The sky had gone dark enough to make it feel later than it was. Easton was just drying her hands on a dish towel when her doorbell rang. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the clock. 5:05. Only two possibilities: she and Bella had gotten their wires crossed about time or somebody wanted to sell her something she didn’t want or need.

  She geared up for a quick dismissal as she crossed the floor to the front door, but when she opened it, she blinked in surprise.

  It was Bella.

  But not the Bella she was used to. Not the Bella she was expecting. Not the calm, quietly sexy Bella she couldn’t wait to talk to, feed, get her hands on. No, this Bella was a mess, standing on the front stoop in the rain, looking like a lost puppy. Her hair was wrecked, black streaks of mascara running down her flushed cheeks, her eyes red and puffy. She must have come right from work, as she wore nice pants and a sharp bright blue top that probably made up a smart outfit before it was drenched by rain. Easton let out a small gasp of surprised concern.

  “Oh, my God, Bella.” Easton reached out a hand to grasp Bella’s arm. “What happened? Are you all right? Get in here.” She had to tug a bit to get Bella moving. She seemed slightly dazed. Easton looked out into the rain, saw Bella’s car in the driveway. “Did you drive like this? Are you okay?”

  Bella stood still on the throw rug just inside the front door. Her beautiful hazel eyes seemed huge, and not in a good way. In a clichéd, deer-in-the-headlights kind of way. In an I-don’t-know-where-I-am-or-what’s-happening kind of way. In a somebody-please-hug-me-before-I-completely-fall-apart kind of way.

  And Easton did.

  There was no question. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Bella, pulled her in tightly and just held her. Bella was stiff for several seconds, but then her entire body relaxed and began to tremble. Easton held her. Waited. And when a small sob broke free and Bella’s shoulders began to shake, Easton tightened her arms, pressed a kiss to her head, and felt her own eyes well up in sympathy and her heart squeeze in her chest as Bella cried in her arms.

  A rumble of thunder rolled through the air and the pelting of rain against the window panes became even louder. Easton led Bella to the couch, sat her down.

  “Don’t move,” she said quietly, then went into the kitchen for a glass of water and snagged the box of tissues from the powder room. When she returned, Bella hadn’t shifted an inch, not even to sit back or get more comfortable. She didn’t look any less dazed. Easton held out the box of tissues. When Bella didn’t move, she pulled one from the box, set it down, then sat next to Bella. With gentle hands, she cupped Bella’s chin and wiped away her tears, the smeared makeup.

  Finally, Bella showed signs of life and reached for another tissue. She blew her nose, then sat back as if she’d finally let go of a huge breath. “I don’t know how I missed it,” she said quietly.

  Easton sat back with her, close to her, so their thighs were touching. She braced her elbow on the back of the couch and toyed with Bella’s hair as she watched her face carefully. “What did you miss, sweetie? Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  Bella reached for the water glass, took a couple of swallows, then sat back again. Whether conscious or not, Easton wasn’t sure, but she scootched a bit closer to Easton, and Easton shifted so she was facing her. No lights had been turned on in the living room yet and the darkness from the storm made it feel like twilight. Bella inhaled very slowly, then held it for a moment before letting it out in a long exhale, as if she was gradually deflating.

  “My client,” she said quietly. “I told you about him. The one whose girlfriend left him. Remember that?”

  Easton nodded, recalling the story. “You said it had devastated him, but he was making a lot of progress, finally.”

  “Right.”

  Easton felt a pit of dread form and settle in her stomach. “Tell me.” She kept her hand in Bella’s hair, hoping the contact would help, would give her strength.

  “I thought he was doing great. I saw him yesterday. He was happier than usual. Almost upbeat. He had plans for the weekend. He was really doing well.”

  Easton swallowed and let Bella set the pace. Part of her didn’t want to hear the rest of the story.

  “I got a call about an hour ago. Jonas—” She turned pained eyes to Easton. “His name was Jonas. He found out his ex got engaged, and he decided the best way to handle that was to hang himself in his apartment.”

  “Oh, God, Bella.”

  “I don’t know how I missed it.” Bella’s eyes filled with tears again.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Easton pulled her closer and Bella let her.

  “How did I miss it, Easton? How? He came to me for help. It’s my job to see that kind of thing.” Bella’s voice was so strained, so filled with pain a
nd confusion and self-loathing, Easton wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and keep her safe from the world.

  “Maybe he didn’t want you to see it,” Easton offered quietly. “Or maybe it hit him all at once, so hard he just couldn’t deal.”

  “Why didn’t he call me?” Bella’s voice was barely audible, less than a whisper, but so achingly sad, it broke Easton’s heart a little bit to hear it. “I could have helped him. Why didn’t he just call me?”

  “I don’t know.” It was the only thing Easton could say. How did you comfort somebody in this situation? How could she possibly make this any better for Bella? She already knew the answer. The answer was that she couldn’t. That there wasn’t a way. That nothing would make it better for Bella. Time? Maybe. Her forgiving herself? Probably. But for right now? All Easton could do was hold her, so that’s what she did.

  They sat on the couch in silence, aside from Bella’s occasional sniffles, for a long time. Easton lost track, but the sky continued to fade, going from a light gray to the color of iron to nearly black. It was the only way she could mark the passage of time. And yet, she held Bella and Bella let her, until Bella finally spoke.

  “Do you have any wine in this place?” Her voice was hoarse, scratchy, and she cleared her throat.

  “I do. Would you like some?”

  “Please.”

  Part of Easton was reluctant to let go of Bella; it was as if she’d already gotten used to holding her and just wanted to continue to do that. Forever. But she forced herself up and into the kitchen. Once there, she took in the chicken breasts, still seasoned on the pan and ready to be cooked, and the small potatoes in the strainer in the sink, waiting to be quartered. “Are you hungry?” she called. “I could fix you something.” She poured two glasses of the Sangiovese she’d picked out that afternoon and carried them into the living room.

  Bella hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry. I don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Her expression was sheepish as Easton handed her a glass.

  “No worries. You let me know if you change your mind, okay?” She sat back down on the couch and Bella leaned against her.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “For being here. For not being freaked out. For just…holding me.” Again, her voice was quiet, gravelly.

  “Confession time: I didn’t know what else to do.” Easton grimaced at her and actually saw the tiny ghost of a smile cross Bella face.

  “It was perfect. Exactly what I needed.” She looked up at Easton then, her hazel eyes filled with so much emotion, Easton couldn’t identify it all. “I may need that again,” she whispered.

  “I’m right here.”

  They sipped their wine and sat in surprisingly companionable silence for a long while. Easton didn’t feel awkward. She didn’t feel at a loss for words or desperate for conversation. She felt…warm. Content. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be in that moment. When Bella shifted a bit, Easton turned to look at her, and Bella’s face had changed…her eyes were clearer, brighter than they’d been all evening. She seemed open, wanting, certain as she sat up straighter, took their wineglasses, and set them on the coffee table. Several moments passed as she simply sat and regarded Easton with something that looked very close to…desire.

  “Easton,” Bella whispered, then reached up a hand and stroked Easton’s face. Softly. Tenderly. Ran her thumb across Easton’s bottom lip.

  Easton swallowed, as her heart rate picked up. She looked at Bella, studied her face, knew her gaze dropped to Bella’s mouth, tried to pull it away. Failed.

  Bella’s fingers slipped around to the back of Easton’s head and pulled her in close, stopped with her mouth scant millimeters from Easton’s. The eye contact in that moment…Easton didn’t know how to describe it. Intense was the best word, the only word she could come up with, but it wasn’t enough. It was more than intense, like Bella was looking directly into her soul.

  “Easton,” she whispered again before pressing their lips together. Gently at first. Short little kisses, one, then another, then another, their mouths soft, warm, wet.

  It felt amazing. Easton had known the very first time they’d kissed that they were brilliant at it. But now? There was a slight trepidation, and Easton battled it even as Bella’s kisses became firmer. Longer.

  “Bella, wait,” she said quietly and touched her fingers to Bella’s chin. When those hazel eyes were focused on her, Easton asked gently, “Are you sure about this?”

  Bella’s nod came without hesitation. “Please, Easton. I need to feel…” She swallowed what Easton guessed was a ball of emotion, but her eyes pleaded. “Life. I need to feel life.”

  It made sense. It absolutely did, and Easton felt it. In response, she pulled Bella in and then they were kissing again and this time, Easton didn’t stop it. As if Bella could read her thoughts, read that it was okay, she increased the pressure, the sensation, deepened the kiss until it was open-mouthed and hotter than any kiss Easton had experienced in her life. Ever. Bella pushed her tongue into Easton’s mouth at the same time she pushed Easton onto her back on the couch, and Easton had no control over the guttural moan that escaped her. The feel of this? Bella’s weight on her, Bella’s hand in her hair, Bella’s mouth doing amazing things to hers? There were no words. The pleasure was immeasurable. Easton’s entire body was on fire and despite the circumstances that had put them here, she reveled in it.

  She tried to focus on the different sensations that were assaulting her body in the most wonderful of ways. Bella’s kissing never stopped, but Easton could feel her hands. Her fingers that slipped up under the tank, scraping erotically across the skin of her stomach, up, up to cup a breast through the fabric of Easton’s bra. A gentle squeeze, and then a stroking that zeroed in on Easton’s nipple with alarming precision, even through the fabric. Easton swore she could feel her skin tightening under the attention, and when she shifted so her legs parted and Bella settled between them, pushed against her center, Easton felt that, too. Good Lord, did she feel it.

  Bella moved her mouth from Easton’s and used her tongue to trail along the side of Easton’s neck, down to the spot where her neck and shoulder met, spending a little time there before pushing Easton’s shirt up over her breasts. Bella looked up then, caught Easton’s eye, and again, the intensity of her gaze was almost too much for Easton. She made a sound that could only be described as a growl when Bella freed her breasts and took one into her mouth, sucking hungrily. Easton dropped her head back against the pillows and dug her fingers into Bella’s hair. She might have muttered, “Oh, my God,” several times, but she couldn’t be sure because that was when the sensations blurred. Combined. Melded. From that point on, Easton couldn’t pick out any one thing, couldn’t pinpoint which parts of Bella were touching which parts of her. Before she even realized it, she was topless on her own couch and Bella was tugging at the ankles of her jeans, sliding them off and tossing them to the floor with a flourish, her underwear not far behind. Bella fell forward and caught herself with one hand, her face close to Easton’s as she slipped the fingers of her other hand through the slick wetness she’d caused between Easton’s legs.

  Easton gasped at the same time Bella moaned with pleasure, her hazel eyes drifting closed as she whispered, “My God, I’ve dreamed of doing this for so long…” And then fingers pushed into her and everything went white for Easton, hazy. Sensations built quickly as Bella picked up a rhythm, dropped her mouth onto Easton’s and kissed her so deeply, Easton couldn’t tell which way was up. All she could do was feel. And in that moment, she did something she’d never done before. Not with Connor. Not even with Olivia.

  Easton let go.

  It wasn’t conscious, and she’d analyze it later, but in that moment, she turned herself over to Bella fully. Trusted her with her body, with her soul, with her heart. And the second she did that, her orgasm came screaming out of nowhere to rip through her like a hurricane, tearing sounds from her
she’d never made before, arching her body as tightly as a bowstring, the pulsing contractions the only thing in the world she could feel as she wrapped both arms around Bella’s upper body and held on for dear life.

  Easton had no idea how long it lasted. Could’ve been a few seconds. Could’ve been a few days. All she knew was that when she finally opened her eyes, everything seemed sharper, more focused. Bella’s weight was still on her, and when she tried to shift, Easton tightened her grip, wouldn’t let her move, felt her gentle chuckle. Her center throbbed still, her breathing a bit ragged, her throat dry. Bella’s head was on her chest, her fingers still tucked warmly inside Easton’s body, and it shocked her to realize that she was pretty sure she could stay just like that for the rest of her days and be perfectly happy. Which was totally and romantically dreamy and unrealistic, but still…

  They stayed that way for a long while, Easton toying with Bella’s hair, until finally Bella mumbled, “I can’t feel my arm.”

  Easton grinned and opened her arms. “Fine. Fly. Be free.”

  Bella pushed herself up but stopped halfway and just looked at Easton. It was the first time in Easton’s life that she finally understood what it meant to feel somebody’s eyes on you. It was as if Bella was touching her all over again—without actually touching her at all.

  Easton sat up, reached for Bella as she whispered, “Come here,” and kissed her. Bella kissed her back but gently turned her head away slightly.

  “It’s okay,” she said, as Easton furrowed her brow. “Really. Can you just hold me?” Her voice was so small, so uncertain, that Easton felt herself melt a little bit.

  “Of course I can.” She opened her arms and Bella crawled into them, tucked her head under Easton’s chin with a sigh of what seemed to be contentment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said against Easton’s still-bare chest. “I just…” Her voice trailed off and she looked up, her hazel eyes clear and bright. “I’m not…it’s not that I don’t want you to touch me. Believe me, I do. Just…”