“So, things worked out with you and your parents?” Valerie asked, voice low.
Monica looked away. “Not really. I just stopped fighting them.”
Valerie looked like she wanted to ask why, but like she knew the answer and it made her sad.
“Thanks for asking me to come here today,” she said instead. “I know it’s hard for you to share, so. I really—I was really happy.”
“It’s not really a big deal,” Monica said. “Sharon mentioned it and I… I guess I couldn’t see a reason not to.”
Valerie’s hand touched her wrist, then slid up her arm.
“It was a very nice not-date,” she murmured.
Monica didn’t know how to reply to that, but she knew what she wanted to do: she leaned forward and caught her lips in a kiss. Valerie’s touch on her arm turned into a grip, her fingers digging into her skin as she kissed back. That was why Monica had called her here, after all, not for pasta nor bickering or entertaining David, but this. It had been so long since Monica had been touched, and something in her felt so glad that it was Valerie who was here.
Valerie kissed her deeply, curling her fingers into Monica’s hair and holding her at the waist with her other hand. Monica wrapped her arms around her neck, leaning her weight against her. Valerie had always been taller than her. It was nice, to be held.
“Is this okay?” Valerie murmured. “You said you weren’t sure, and I…”
“It’s fine,” Monica said. “It’s good, it’s perfect.”
They kissed again, mouths locking together like they were meant to be, and when Monica stepped forward, Valerie stepped back, until they hit the edge of the couch and tumbled down. Monica fell right on top of Valerie, their noses knocking together, and it made Valerie smile, and that made Monica smile, and Monica just—
She had missed her so very terribly. The last fifteen years had been so, so long.
Her body felt electric, she was touching Valerie everywhere, she could barely stand it. Valerie’s hands wandered down and Monica let them, back arching against the touch. Valerie slipped her thigh between Monica’s and Monica let her. She leaned away from their kisses to press her open mouth to Monica’s neck and Monica let her. She let her do everything, and let her own hands wander in turn, too.
She slid them under Valerie’s shirt, touching the tanned, smooth skin with a proprietary touch.
She left me, she thought, fervent, still furious, in all the parts of her she wasn’t just hurt, but then she realized the thought was incomplete, and set about completing it: she left me, and then she came back.
Not on purpose. Just a coincidence. But it had to mean something.
She bit down on a moan when Valerie’s thigh was brought up and pressed right against her between her legs, rubbing the seam of her jeans against her clit and making her feel like fire was shooting up her spine. She canted her hips and rocked against her, letting her forehead drop to Valerie’s shoulder. Valerie kissed her jaw, her neck, mouthed at her earlobe, wet and hot. She planted her feet on the couch and rocked up, then unceremoniously shoved a hand down her trousers when there wasn’t enough friction for her.
Monica laughed, then clamped her mouth shut; they couldn’t make any noise. But Valerie seemed delighted with it, moving to grasp a handful of Monica’s ass with one hand.
“Come on,” she whispered, “we can be quick.”
Monica kissed her and reached down with her own hand to touch herself. She hadn’t felt like this in years, her body coming alive, and they weren’t even doing anything much—they were still clothed on the couch, and touching themselves instead of each other, but their knuckles brushed against each other as they moved their hands and that was the hottest thing Monica had felt.
She curled two fingers inside of herself, cursing the awkward angle and the lack of release it gave her, but it only made everything more maddeningly good. She firmed her weight on her knees and arched her spine when her fingers touched just the right place to make her moan brokenly. Valerie was looking up at her like—like she was beautiful, like she never wanted to look away.
They kissed again, messy. Monica was so wet that it was no trouble at all to fit another finger inside herself, to scissor them and bite her lips down so she wouldn’t moan loudly again. Valerie let out a curse and lifted her thigh higher, hips thrusting up against Monica’s, and they came together like that, keeping each other quiet with each other’s lips.
It wasn’t anything grand. It was soft and quiet and tired and Monica ached with it. She buried her nose in Valerie’s shoulder and thought that she wouldn’t ever move, that she would never let Valerie leave this house.
Valerie started to comb through her hair, soft and content like she wasn’t thinking of ever leaving, either.
Chapter Nine
It was so very hard for her to focus on work after that.
She and Valerie weren’t dating, but their relationship status couldn’t be summed up by ex-girlfriends either, anymore. They were something. The question of what this something was, was the fact that Valerie was so close but too far for her to touch or talk to left Monica maddeningly distracted.
“Girl,” Sharon said smugly.
Monica shoved her face away, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Don’t say anything,” she muttered.
Sharon just grinned. On the other side of the room, Monica could see Valerie’s back, how she kept lifting a hand to tug at her hair. Monica wanted to lead her to the kitchen or to that unused office and do things people really shouldn’t do in the workplace.
“Monica?”
Her gaze snapped up. Jerry was standing right by her with lines between his brows, eyes going from Monica to Valerie. Monica flushed, embarrassed at having been caught so distracted by her boss. But hey, if he wanted to talk to her, maybe she would be able to talk to him about the conversation she had had with Mrs. Harrison, and the ideas the woman had had about the big collaborative painting they had talked about!
“Yes?”
“Could you come to my office for a second?”
“Yeah, okay,” Monica said, snatching a few files from her desk. “I had wanted to talk to you about some things, too.”
He led her to his office without another word, and Monica felt herself frown. Jerry wasn’t the most affable person in the world, but there was something strange here: he was walking in front of her, his eyebrows were low over his eyes, and he wasn’t chatting with her as they went.
She couldn’t think of what could have gone wrong with her project so suddenly. He seemed to like it so much; he had certainly seemed to love the idea that she would produce something they could use for ads for a long time to come…
He sat down behind his desk and she sat in front of him. She stayed quiet; she didn’t know how to manage this strange side of her boss. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look,” he said, “you’re a good girl, Monica. I’ve really appreciated you the last few years you’ve been working with us and I think your project has a lot of potential. But things have changed in the past few weeks and months and I’ve just found out why and… I’m so disappointed on you.”
Monica froze. “What? Why? Nothing changed. Jerry, I haven’t—”
“It all started when Valerie was hired,” he said loudly and pointedly, and when he looked at her, he looked like he knew all her secrets, like there was no point in hiding at all.
Monica’s heart stopped beating in her chest.
“What?” she asked blankly.
He sighed. “I’m not going to say it because we both know it, Monica. As I said, you’re a good girl, and I’ve been growing to like Valerie too. I don’t know why you two are… why you have started to do this kind of thing, but this isn’t the kind of company that would allow that kind of thing. We’re all good, proper people, aren’t we? Imagine the scandal if this gets out to the higher-ups. They’ll kick my ass for hiring—well. Let’s just agree, between the two of us, that this n
onsense will not continue happening, okay?”
Panic was a clawed fist around her heart and Monica could do nothing but simply sit and nod her head, agreeing with him while her entire body went cold, cold, cold.
How did he know?
A part of her, small and afraid, thought, Sharon.
“All right,” Jerry said, pleased that the conversation had gone so well. “You can go back now. And whatever you wanted to talk to me about, just send me an email, all right? I’ll take a look at everything later.”
“All right,” Monica said hollowly, and stood up.
***
“Mon?” Sharon asked as soon as Monica returned, looking at her with a worried frown. “What did Jerry say? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
Monica didn’t look at her. “Would you come with me for a second?”
“Yeah, sure,” Sharon said easily, standing up at once. “I have another of those damn online meetings in like twenty minutes, but I’m here for you ‘till then.”
Monica headed to the empty kitchen, the eyes of her coworkers all on her, and tried not to think of anything. Sharon wouldn’t, she thought, though maybe she had, but she didn’t look like she knew what was going on, but did that mean anything? Monica thought about Valerie that day, standing on her porch and telling her, five feet away and not coming any closer, that they were done. Monica had had surprises thrown at her feet like that before, unexpected betrayals. Who was to say Sharon couldn’t do it too?
“All right, what did Jerry say?” Sharon asked in a low voice as soon as they were alone. “I swear the man gets worse by the day, yesterday I heard him telling Clarice that her music lesson plans didn’t need so many musical instruments. Did he tell you buying paint was not necessary for your project or something?”
“Did you tell him?” Monica asked all at once, unable to look at her friend.
“Tell him?” Sharon asked her, blinking in surprise. “Tell him what? What’s there to—oh.”
Monica squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms against them.
“Shit,” Sharon said with feeling. Monica felt hands at her elbows and flinched away from them. “Oh, no, Mon, I didn’t, I promise, I swear, I would never, I would never do that to you, I don’t know how he knows but it wasn’t me. What did he say, exactly?”
“Oh, you know,” Monica said, face twisting and eyes going red; she didn’t know what she was feeling, if it was surprise or relief or panic, “the usual. He’s disappointed, we’re all proper good people in this company, he trusts that I’ll stop this nonsense.”
“Wow, what a load of bullshit,” Sharon said with feeling.
“Oh, I’m done for,” Monica said lightly. “I am. He’ll fire me. I know just what will happen. He’ll find excuses, Sharon, and everything will get worse and worse, because that’s how it goes, and then—”
“He can’t fire you! There are laws against that.”
“He’ll find a reason that people can’t trace back to this,” Monica told her hollowly. “I could sue, I guess, if I had the money.”
“Wait, but he hasn’t fired you,” Sharon said, touching her arms again. This time, Monica didn’t flinch, and she left them there. “Nothing’s happened yet. He can’t dictate how you live your life, Monica. So maybe you should stop looking at Valerie so much and getting her alone so you can have hushed conversations and make out in the empty offices, but—”
“We don’t do that,” Monica hissed, a flush rising to her cheek.
“You’ve done these at least once,” Sharon said, grinning like she was happy she had gotten a reaction besides despair from Monica. “It’ll be okay. I’m in your corner, and he can’t do anything.”
“Oh, he can,” Monica said, realizing something all at once: “He won’t have me win the competition.”
“You don’t know that,” Sharon said, but her voice was uncertain.
Monica closed her eyes and tried not to cry.
***
A small mercy was that lunch time comes soon, giving Monica a chance to escape and try to compose herself a bit. As soon as the clock hit midday, Monica was shoving things inside her bag and standing up, ready to leave this damn office and maybe buy herself some cake.
She left with Sharon, not looking back, not looking at Valerie. A part of her too big to be ignored was wailing in anger, blaming Valerie even though she knew it wasn’t Valerie’s fault, furious that Valerie coming into her life had ruined everything again. She wanted that promotion. She needed it, of course she needed it, she was a single mother to a small son who only wanted more and more of the world, raising him alone, paying rent and daycare and the groceries alone, but it was more than that. Monica wanted it. She wanted it like she had grown out of wanting things, with a childish determination: she wanted to win the competition, and get that promotion, and be better.
She wasn’t going to get it anymore, and there was already a Valerie-shaped hole in her chest, and it was easy to fill it with even more anger.
“Hey,” Valerie said softly, catching her as she left the building. “Is everything okay? I’ll buy you lunch.”
“I don’t need you to buy me lunch,” Monica snapped, then looked away. “Everything’s fine. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Valerie blinked at her in utter confusion. “Are you—are you sure? What’s wrong? What did Jerry say when he pulled you into his office like that?”
“Nothing,” Monica snapped, dislodged her hold on her arm, and marched away.
Chapter Ten
Valerie sat at work and pondered. It had been two days since Jerry had pulled Monica aside and something in that meeting had made Monica quiet, withdrawn, and snappish. Valerie hated it. She hated not knowing what was happening, and she hated even more the fact that Monica wouldn’t talk to her, and she hated even more the fact that she felt like she deserved it. Why should Monica ever tell her anything? They weren’t dating. They weren’t anything, really.
Clarice looked at her from the side of her eyes, as if she really, truly wanted to talk to her, but didn’t have the courage to ask again after Valerie had rebuffed her that first time. Valerie was really and truly one inch away from just spewing everything to her; she was so awfully, terribly lonely.
She wanted Monica to invite her over again. She wanted to see David again. Just thinking about him made something in Valerie’s chest go tight; he looked so much like Monica, he was so much the little hellion she had been before whatever happened to make her marry a man.
“Incoming,” Clarice muttered.
“What?” Valerie asked, confused.
“Valerie, do you have a moment?”
Valerie looked up with surprise and realized Clarice had been warning her that Jerry had been making his way to her. She smiled blandly up at him even as her eyes tried to narrow down suspiciously. Maybe, if Monica wasn’t talking to her, Jerry would tell her whatever it was that happened.
“Sure,” she said.
“Then come on, I need to talk to you.”
She stood up and followed him as he went, turning around to shrug at Clarice’s questioning gaze. His office was chilled and empty, and when they sat, Jerry stayed quiet for a long time.
“This was easier to talk to Monica about, since I’ve known her for years and you’ve only been here for a few months,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don’t really know how to bring this up with you. It’d be easier to… but, well, you’ve just arrived, and if we can resolve this without any nonsense, then that will be better for everyone, won’t it?”
Something about his words made Valerie’s entire body still.
“Yes,” she said carefully. “What exactly is going on, Jerry?”
He looked at her with patient, pointed eyes.
Valerie felt her breath leave her, and in its place her anger started to rise.
“I’m telling you, like I told Monica, that we can’t be having that sort of thing in our company,” he said softly, not ungently. “I know, I know, your private lives sho
uldn’t concern the company, but it does affect us, doesn’t it? I can’t have this becoming a scandal. None of us can, can we? We’ll lose clients, people will talk. So, I’m telling you, like I told her, that you two need to stop this nonsense and focus on work, all right?”
“You’re right,” Valerie said, feeling three steps removed from herself, nodding slightly. “You’re right, Jerry. It shouldn’t concern the company.”
He froze, looking at her.
“Valerie,” he said with a sigh, an annoyed tick to his eyebrows.
“It really, really isn’t any of your business, Jerry,” she said, and her voice wasn’t so bland anymore. Valerie was angry. Valerie had been angry all her life, and unlike Monica, she hadn’t grown resigned or quiet. She had only learned, lonely and with her hands closed in fists, to grow angrier.
“I think you should think better about this,” Jerry told her. “As I said, stop this nonsense. Go back to work. Live a better life, Valerie.”
“Wow, Jerry, I didn’t know you were such a homophobe,” she said far too loudly. “Did you know you could get fined or even arrested for discriminating? It’s a law, Jerry. So why don’t you stop subtly pushing me into breaking up with my girlfriend so I can indeed go back to work?”
“You need to mince your words,” he said, face growing red. “I’m giving you a chance here and you’re threatening to—what, sue me? You can’t do anything. You’re going to fix this problem and go back to work, or things are only going to get worse.”
“Get worse how?” she hissed, standing up. “You are threatening me. Is that what you did to Monica? Is that why she’s been pale and quiet ever since you brought her in to speak to her? How dare you.”
“I’m your boss and you’re going to respect me,” he snapped, standing up as well. “I’m in my full rights to fire you for any of this! Or her.”
Valerie stilled.
“You can’t fire Monica because I snapped back at you,” she said, even though she knew he could. Valerie hadn’t been loved by her own parents; she had known betrayal worse than this. But the thought of being the cause of Monica’s grief yet again made something curdle and grow sour inside her chest. Guilt and fury made her feel ill.
Second Time Around Page 6