At Your Most Beautiful

by Harper Bliss

  Granted, over time it had become much easier to keep the secret. If she had never seen Maya again, Quinn might have taken the memory of that night to her grave. But she had most certainly seen Maya. She had photographed her. She was working on her picture now—she was supposed to be anyway, when daydreaming didn’t keep her from doing any actual work.

  She gazed at Maya’s face again and asked, “What do you think, Maya? Should we do this? Should I ask you out?”

  If a repeat of that night were ever on the table, Quinn would most certainly not turn down the opportunity. She had nothing but exquisite memories of her time with Maya. From the first dive into her pool, until the last time she’d looked into her eyes. Only their goodbye had been bittersweet although Quinn knew that it was the only realistic way for things to go between them at the time. The rest of her time at home that summer had been spent pining for Maya, trying to catch a glimpse of her, to no avail. If Quinn remembered correctly, Maya had gone away in the days following their time together. It had felt like a punch to the gut. Maya had made it abundantly clear that she had already swiftly moved on from their time together.

  Quinn had returned to the city while Maya was still away. She had started the next chapter of her life, a life in which her night with Maya had only been a brief interlude, a precious one, but a mere interlude nonetheless, no matter how amazing.

  The sooner she finished her work, the sooner Quinn would have the perfect excuse to contact Maya. Just a little bit of patience was required. And a lot of gazing at Maya’s face and body in that red dress. By the time she was finished with this, Quinn figured she’d be well acquainted with every last inch of Maya.

  She took a deep breath and tried to snap herself back into focus. Just as she was getting into the groove again, her phone buzzed with a message. The first thought at hearing the alert was as fleeting as it was ridiculous: Could it be Maya?

  She checked her phone. Of course, it wasn’t Maya. It was Morgan—again. For some reason that she was probably too cowardly to admit to herself, Quinn still hadn’t blocked Morgan. Quinn still wanted to hear from her. She didn’t want to delete all lines of communication because she still had so many unresolved feelings for Morgan. She stared at Morgan’s message:

  Can we talk please, babe? M. xo

  M. She imagined the M stood for Maya, but Quinn had no history with Maya. She had one night ten years ago. With Morgan, Quinn had years to look back on. Still, the thought of Maya calling Quinn ‘babe’ and ending a text message with ‘xo’ wasn’t unappealing. It was also impossible. But taking the time to indulge in her imagination was harmless enough and it was a welcome relief from the post-breakup anguish Quinn had been victim to.

  She put her phone to the side and resumed her work. For the sheer hell of it, and as a way to cosmically give Morgan the finger for bailing on them after all those years, while Quinn studied the details of Maya’s face, she continued to pretend it was Maya who had messaged her. It had been her first thought, after all, whereas before, her mind had always automatically landed on Morgan first.

  Despite working on Maya’s picture, the power of faking it soon wore off, and Quinn started to consider a reply to Morgan’s message. Morgan had been a bitch, no doubt, but she was also being very persistent. What did she have to say to Quinn that hadn’t already been said? Could Griff be right? Did Morgan want her back? And if so, would Quinn even consider it? She knew she shouldn’t. The only thing that could possibly make her reconsider anything was if Morgan had left her husband.

  Quinn’s breath stalled in her throat. Could that be the reason for Morgan’s recent increased attempts at trying to reach her? Had she finally done it? And if she had—if the impossible had finally happened—could it still really make a difference four months after they’d split? Or would even that be too little too late for them?

  There was only one way to find out. Quinn walked away from her computer, picked up her phone and, heart slamming against her chest, called Morgan.

  Chapter 17

  Maya had to leave in the next five minutes if she wanted to be on time for her date.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Beth asked. “Mom made enough casserole to feed a few large families.”

  “I have dinner plans.” Maya didn’t even know why she was here. She’d only dropped by because she hadn’t known what to do with herself. She looked into Ethan’s crib. He was sleeping in that cute way babies have, his tiny fists balled and his eyes scrunched so tightly shut he looked as though he was still furious about having been born.

  “Hot date?” Beth asked.

  A flush crept from Maya’s neck to her cheeks so she kept her gaze firmly on her sleeping grandson. “Of course not,” Maya lied. “Just a friend.”

  “Someone I know?” Beth was pottering around the kitchen, putting Ethan’s bottles in the sterilizer.

  “I wouldn’t think so.” Maya could have lied some more and said she was meeting with someone from Acton, but she didn’t want the lie to become so big she lost herself in it later. If she’d been going on a date with a man, however, she would have just told Beth without giving it any further thought. She surely would have told Beth’s mother, whom she’d met for coffee earlier. Instead, because her date was a woman, she felt she couldn’t tell either of them. How backward was that? Being able to date women more easily was one of the reasons she’d moved to New York City in the first place.

  “Are you going to Pino’s?” Beth asked, as though that was the only restaurant in all of the five boroughs Maya could possibly go to on a Saturday night.

  “No.” Maya finally looked up from Ethan’s crib. She had considered using her daughter-in-law’s name to nab an exclusive Saturday night reservation to impress her date, but Tommy and Beth were regulars at Pino’s so that wasn’t a risk she’d wanted to take. Instead, she’d let Beverly pick the place. She’d lived in Manhattan her entire life. “Somewhere in Midtown I haven’t been before.”

  Maya heard the front door open and Tommy rushed in. He said a quick hello to Maya and Beth, but made a beeline for Ethan’s crib before greeting his wife and mother more thoroughly.

  “Try not to wake him,” Beth pleaded. “It took ages before he went down properly.”

  Maya loved watching her son with his son. His body language seemed to transform in the steps he took from the door to Ethan’s crib, from man-about-town to devoted dad.

  Tommy whispered something to Ethan that Maya couldn’t make out but made her heart melt regardless. Becoming a grandmother had been one of the most overwhelming experiences of her life. Maybe that was why she had stopped by Tommy and Beth’s. To remind herself of all she already had in her life. To take the edge off her nerves with a dose of familiarity. To be aware that it was just a date, and she shouldn’t feel too much pressure. And, perhaps, also to feel the love that she always felt at Tommy’s and Beth, the unconditional love she had for her family and theirs for her.

  “Hi, Mom.” Tommy finally walked over. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He kissed Maya on the cheek before heading over to his wife and curling his arms around her waist and holding her.

  “I hadn’t planned on coming over, but the lure of catching a glimpse of Ethan was too hard to resist.” Maya straightened her posture. “I have to run, though.”

  “Your mom has a hot dinner date, but she won’t tell me with whom.” Beth winked at Maya. If only she knew.

  “What? My mother?” Tommy grinned. “Even the notion.”

  “Stop teasing.” Maya picked up her purse. “I’ll see you on Monday. Have a lovely evening.” She blew them both a kiss and headed to the front door.

  “You were joking, right?” Maya heard Tommy ask Beth. “I would know if my mother was seeing anyone.”

  With a smile on her lips, Maya exited her son’s apartment.

  “When I first saw you on the app,” Beverly said, “I couldn’t believe it.” She pulled her lips into a grin. “When we matched, I thought I was the luckiest
woman in all of New York.” She leaned over the table a fraction. “Now that I’m sitting here with you, I’m practically beside myself.” Ever since they’d gotten the awkward niceties out of the way, Beverly had become more and more of a straightforward sweet-talker. Maya didn’t mind one bit.

  “You’re not too bad yourself,” she said. Beverly might not be a knockout, but she sure was good company. She talked a mile a minute, but her trains of thought were always well articulated and easy to follow. She had two grown children. An ex-wife. A career as an environmental lobbyist with the UN she seemed very passionate about. And she was only two years younger than Maya—an increasingly important fact since seeing Quinn again and Maya’s subsequent conversation with Angus.

  “You must be inundated with dating possibilities.” Beverly’s eyes sparkled when she looked at Maya. “Why did you choose to go out with little old me?” When she referred to herself as ‘little old me’ it didn’t sound self-deprecating in the least.

  “First of all, I’m not inundated. Let’s get that fiction out of the way.” Maya tilted her head slightly. She was ready to shift into a higher gear of flirting because why the hell not? “And I chose you because you appealed to me very much.”

  “At the risk of repeating myself, I’m very glad you did.” Beverly pulled her lips into what could only be described as a seductive smile.

  “You can repeat yourself all you want.” Unlike the previous—and only—date Maya had gone on with a woman, she felt something stir inside of her. She really liked Beverly. She wasn’t entirely sure yet whether she was physically attracted to her, but she was old and wise enough to know that she needn’t worry about that yet. Maya wasn’t looking for a coup de foudre. She was looking for something real and meaningful with a woman she could admire and have a rewarding conversation with.

  “I will.” Beverly took a sip of wine before locking her gaze on Maya again. “Inquiring minds want to know.” Another smile. “Until you moved to the city, you’ve been passing for straight?”

  “I wouldn’t call it passing.” Maya gave a nervous chuckle. “As far as I knew, I was straight.”

  Beverly nodded as though she understood. “But something must have happened to make you take that final leap.”

  “I don’t feel as though I’ve taken any leaps just yet. I moved from the suburbs to the city, that’s about it.”

  “That is a big leap and, let me assure you, you’re not the first woman in her fifties to do so.”

  “I’m not?” Maya wondered if a city like New York, where you could find anything imaginable under the sun, would have some sort of support group for middle-aged formerly straight women.

  “Of course not.” Beverly grinned again. “You have no idea how many women our age are sick of men after spending decades in their company.” She shrugged casually. “Not every woman is as fortunate as me to grow up knowing they’re gay.”

  “It can’t have been easy, though.”

  Beverly shrugged again. “It wasn’t exactly hard either. My family didn’t make much of an issue out of it. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like nowadays when parents actually ask their kids if they’re gay and some kids don’t even have to come out of the closet anymore—which is how it should be, by the way. I still very much had to come out and there was some minor drama and the usual bullshit of ‘are you sure’ and ‘maybe you shouldn’t give up on boys entirely just yet’, but, in the end, they accepted it, because what else were they going to do?”

  Maya tried to imagine how her parents would have reacted if she’d told them she liked women, but it was an exercise in futility since her parents were both gone. She didn’t want to attribute unearned qualities to the dead, yet she liked to think her parents wouldn’t have made a huge deal of it. But what would they say if she were able to tell them about this date—if they were still alive—though? “Sorry,” she said. “I was just thinking about my own parents. They’ll never know I’ve gone on this date with a very charming woman.”

  “This one?” Beverly pointed at herself.

  Maya nodded, a smile blooming on her lips.

  “Trust me, my mother will hear all about you first thing tomorrow.”

  They burst into a companionable chuckle and Maya enjoyed the warmth that blossomed in her chest. Why had she waited so long to give herself this gift of going out with women? What had she been so afraid of?

  “Actually,” she started. “I got the first inkling I might like women about ten years ago.” Maya wasn’t going to divulge her indiscretion with Quinn to Beverly on the first date, but she did want to give her something of a timeline, just so she knew that Maya wasn’t here on some whim. “But I’ve only now started telling people and doing something concrete about it.”

  “Since you’ve moved to the city?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must have needed the time it took.” There was not a hint of judgement in Beverly’s tone. “And now here you are.”

  “Here I am.” Maya was starting to warm to Beverly even more. She couldn’t exactly imagine kissing her yet, but maybe in a few minutes, hours, days, or weeks, she wouldn’t be able to stop imagining it. As far as she was concerned, this date with Beverly was the most promising one she’d been on since she’d started seeing the man she’d married.

  Chapter 18

  Argh, Quinn thought, why does she have to look so insanely hot? Through the window, she watched Morgan walk toward her building. She anticipated the buzz of the doorbell, which was a new experience, because, for years, Morgan had possessed a key to Quinn’s apartment. It was their secret hideout place, away from prying eyes.

  She waited in the doorframe for Morgan to climb the three flights of stairs. She would be slightly out of breath and look all the sexier for it.

  “Hey.” With a flourish, Morgan took the last two steps. She beamed Quinn a wide smile. “Fuck, it’s good to see you.”

  Quinn quickly ushered her inside. They might have broken up, but the air of secrecy remained.

  “Thanks so much for seeing me, Quinn.” Morgan zipped open her leather jacket. “It’s been so difficult. I miss you so much, babe.” She swallowed. “Before you say anything, I know I have no right to say that. It’s my fault it’s over between us. But that’s why I’ve been so desperate to talk to you.” She shook her head. “If breaking up with you has taught me one thing, it’s that I want to be with you more than anything.”

  “You could have been with me all along.”

  “I know. I know.” Morgan rubbed her palms on her jeans. “I blew it, but…”

  “Do you want something to drink? Shall we sit?” Quinn needed some time to absorb the emotional energy of having Morgan inside her home again.

  “Griff’s not here, is she?” Morgan asked.

  “She’s at work.” Quinn working mostly from home had helped manage the practicalities of their affair a lot. She’d even been able to hide it from her roommate much longer than she’d thought possible, and much to Griff’s dismay.

  “I’d love some water, please.” Morgan’s voice sounded sweeter than Quinn had ever heard it.

  Quinn led them into the kitchen where they sat around the tiny table that only had room for two chairs placed too close together for comfort.

  “I’m going to do it,” Morgan said. “I’m going to leave Steve.”

  Quinn knew not to get her hopes up. After all, this was hardly the first time Morgan had spoken those very words—and words came cheap. But when she looked into Morgan’s face, her lips drawn into a hopeful smile, her eyes glittering with all the prospects for their future life together, it was difficult to ignore the instant joyful pitter-patter of her heart. In fact, this moment, Morgan sitting in her kitchen, so close Quinn could inhale her familiar scent, saying those very words to Quinn, came scarily close to most of the fantasies she’d indulged in over the past few months.

  “Why would I believe you now?” Quinn had to ask. After what had happened, her instinct was to protect herself, even t
hough protecting her heart had never been something that came naturally to Quinn. Being with Morgan had changed that about her. “Have you done anything to make it happen? Have you talked to him?”

  “Not yet, babe.” Over the small surface of the table, Morgan inched her hand closer to Quinn’s elbow. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

  It irked Quinn that Morgan still called her ‘babe’, as though they were still together and the past four months of heartbreak meant nothing. “Then talk.” Part of Quinn wanted to pull her elbow away from Morgan’s approaching hand, but she didn’t. Just as during their affair, Quinn had wanted to pull away from the madness of it, the sheer impossibility of it, many a time, but she never had. Not until their final and fatal blowout.

  “I love you more than I love Steve,” Morgan said. “I love you so much. I choose you, Quinn.” Her fingers touched Quinn’s skin. “I know I should have done so years ago and I’m sorry that I didn’t.” When she half-whispered like that, her voice was the epitome of sexy. “I should have taken us much more seriously from the get-go.”

  Quinn wanted to believe Morgan with all her heart. She wanted to drown in this serenade, in all these wonderful words Morgan was treating her to—words that would have been like the most exquisite symphony to Quinn’s ears if they’d been spoken a year ago, or two years ago. Now they sounded like a bunch of false notes strung together by an amateur.

  “If I understand correctly.” Quinn did pull her elbow away now. “You want to hedge your bets. You want to know if I still want to be with you before you actually leave your husband.”

  “Is that so wrong?” The thing about Morgan was that her smooth, sugary voice could make you believe anything.

  “Yes, because it’s too late, babe.” Quinn tried to ignore the tears that stung behind her eyes. “We were together for four years, Morgan. I loved you. I gave you all my attention and energy and affection, while I always had to share yours with someone else. And even after I gave you all of that for all those years, it still takes you four months after you’ve dumped me to figure out that I’m the one you really want? Excuse me if I don’t want to buy that off the bat.”