“Yes, exactly. Mmm, this wine is good.” Amanda rarely drank but tonight she felt like knocking back a couple of glasses and relaxing. “You understand what I’m trying to do, but not many people do. I think my aunt, for instance, thinks I’m a perpetual student who keeps going to school just for the love of going to school.”
“You’re right, this wine is excellent.” Claire closed her eyes for a moment as she savored the taste. It was a classico riserva from Tuscany, with a seventy-dollar price tag, but Claire had insisted.
“That was stressful today, with that man breaking his ankle like that,” Amanda remarked. “I imagine you’re pretty used to stress in your line of work.”
“It does have its moments, but I actually kind of like the stress. A tense situation seems to sharpen every sense in your body, makes you prioritize and concentrate on the immediate situation. It’s almost like being in a tunnel, where everything else drops away and you focus on the job at hand. But afterward you kind of crash from the adrenaline rush, like now.”
“I can always drive back if you’re too tired.”
“I might take you up on that.”
Their food arrived, smelling delicious, and both women tucked into it ravenously.
“It seems,” Claire said around a mouthful of chicken and noodles, “from some of the things you say, that your aunt doesn’t understand you very well.”
Amanda shrugged. “It’s not her fault. We haven’t been very close the last few years, which is mostly my fault, actually.”
“Mind if I ask why? From what she’s said, I know you two were extremely close until you went off to school.”
Amanda considered how much to tell Claire. She didn’t want to come between such good friends, nor was it fair to put Claire in the middle. She had absolutely nothing negative to say about her aunt—she loved Shannon like a mother or a big sister, and she knew Shannon’s love for her was equally unconditional. The problem between them came down to her own shame about herself, her own fears. She was afraid to let her aunt see her as someone who could make a mistake—a huge mistake. There was something about Claire, however, that made her feel safe to be herself. Yes, that was it. Claire was safe. Claire wouldn’t judge her for making mistakes.
“We were very close, it’s true. Don’t get me wrong, I love my aunt more than anyone in this world.”
“But?”
“But nothing.” Amanda took a bolstering sip of wine before looking Claire straight in the eye. She was quickly caving in, wanting to confide in Claire. She needed to. “There were certain things in my life I’ve kept from her, and it’s created some distance between us.”
Claire looked pensive. “I’ve seen secrets destroy relationships. If you and Shannon love and support each other like you say, why the need to keep things from her?”
A simple question that deserved a simple answer, except that it wasn’t simple. It was complicated because Amanda had made it complicated. Tears sprang to her eyes suddenly and for the moment she couldn’t speak.
Claire’s hand closed the distance between them and slipped into Amanda’s on the tabletop. The tender gesture sent Amanda’s tears slithering down her cheeks.
“Oh, Amanda. I’m sorry. Can you tell me why you’re so upset?”
“I’m ashamed,” she whispered after a moment, looking into Claire’s soft brown eyes and finding solace there. “You see . . .” She had to take a deep breath before speaking the words she was so ashamed to say. Say it, say it. Claire will understand. “I’m married.”
Surprise registered in Claire’s eyes. She started to say something, stopped. Her hand, slightly tremulous now, continued to hold Amanda’s. “Okay. I didn’t see that coming. I thought you were gay?”
Amanda smiled through her tears. “I am. I married a woman.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The release of the admission made Amanda feel a little nauseous, yet it felt good being honest with Claire. It dawned on her that she’d had the urge to be completely up front with Claire since meeting her at the airport. Maybe she was just tired of carrying around the shame of her actions, or maybe telling Claire was a dress rehearsal for coming clean with her aunt. In any case, she wanted to share this part of herself with Claire. Desperately needed to be herself with Claire.
Claire looked more confused by the minute. “It’s kind of an important announcement, isn’t it? Getting married is not something you sort of forget to tell someone you’re close to, like telling her you changed your hair color or that you’ve grown fond of Russian poetry or something.” Claire looked peeved, perhaps a protective posture for Shannon’s sake.
“I know, and you’re right.”
Claire shook her head in mystification and removed her hand from Amanda’s very slowly. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand. Why would you keep something like this from Shannon?”
“I meant to tell her before but lost the courage. The problem was with who I married. And the fact that it turned out to be a big mistake.”
“It did? Will you tell me about it? I’ve got all night, you know.”
Claire’s smile was infectious and Amanda smiled too. “Thank you, and yes, I would really like to tell you. I was in my last year of undergraduate studies at Stanford when I met a second-year law school student, Jennifer, at a party. We started hanging out, and I knew right away we’d be lovers. I hadn’t had many lovers before, but I knew Jennifer was special. The intensity of my feelings for her scared the shit out of me at first, but I was in love. I went with it. I was so happy then, I wanted to share it with the world. And I did. Shannon flew out to meet her, and that’s when the problem started.”
“What happened?”
“Aunt Shannon took a disliking to Jennifer.”
Claire topped up their glasses with wine and leaned a little closer, captivated. “That doesn’t sound like Shannon.”
“She caught Jennifer flirting with some guy one night when we all went out to dinner and a dance club. She told me about it the next morning, said she didn’t trust Jennifer’s intentions. I blew it off because I was blinded by love, I guess. I don’t know.” Amanda was still disgusted with her stubborn disbelief in her aunt, and disgusted at her own inability to see through Jennifer. Jennifer had told her she was bisexual, but she’d never guessed that meant Jennifer thought she could act on her attractions even within the confines of their relationship. “I refused to believe there was a problem. Refused to believe I couldn’t trust Jennifer, even though I knew she was bisexual. I didn’t question her hard enough, didn’t pick up on the signs. I was stupid.”
“Not stupid. Trusting. You shouldn’t be sorry for trusting someone.”
The next part was hardest for Amanda, because she did not admit to failure easily. “That wasn’t the worst of it. After five months together, Jennifer and I got married. In California.”
Claire’s eyebrows shot up. “Legally?”
“Yup.” There were times when Amanda felt old. Old and battle scarred. Now was one of those times.
Claire kept her thoughts close, her voice neutral. “Wow.”
“I know. Shocking, isn’t it?” Amanda shook her head severely, her self-loathing evident in her voice. “Not only did the smart, ambitious, cool-headed Amanda Malden do something as impulsive as run off and get married on practically the fourth date, but she went and married the wrong girl.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Three months into the marriage, we both knew it was a mistake. We weren’t compatible. Suddenly, everything we thought was endearing about one another grated on our nerves. And I suspected Jennifer wasn’t monogamous with me. We kept it going for another month or so. I guess I kept hoping it would work out, you know? I wanted to try some more, get some counseling, but Jennifer announced that she was going back to men and that she didn’t love me.”
This time Claire let her emotions show. “Oh, Amanda. I’m so sorry that happened to you. It must have been such a tough time for you, and to go th
rough it without family support. Are you okay now?”
“Yes and no. It was the worst time of my life then, so yes, things are better now.” It was the one spontaneous thing she’d ever done in her life and it had ended in failure. Amanda looked at the ceiling for strength because tears were threatening again. “It’s just . . . I couldn’t believe I’d screwed up my life so badly. To be married and then not married before I was twenty-five. And to have Jennifer go back to men, it seemed like a double whammy. A double mistake. It was devastating.” She remembered the sting and the irrevocableness of Jennifer’s words. I don’t love you anymore, Amanda. And I don’t want to be with a woman anymore.
Claire’s face looked pained. “So you couldn’t tell Shannon because you were embarrassed?”
“Yes. She’s always thought so highly of me, always so proud of me. I didn’t want to destroy the image of me she’d built up in her mind. I didn’t want to disappoint her and I didn’t want to admit to myself that she’d been right about Jennifer.”
“Shannon would never be disappointed in you. She loves you. And she would never throw something like that in your face.”
“I know that.” She let a tear fall freely down her cheek before swiping it away. “I’ve been so afraid. Afraid to tell her, afraid to make it real by admitting it, afraid to fall for anyone again.”
Claire nodded. “I know. I understand. But they say the truth sets you free, so to speak.”
Amanda shrugged. “I’m moving on from it now. Our divorce is tied up in the courts, and it could be a while with all the politicking going on in California over gay marriage. But I want it to be over, and you’re right. I can’t do that until I deal with the truth.”
“You’re a brave woman, Amanda. Braver than you think, and your heart’s in the right place.” Claire reached for her hand again and held it loosely. She seemed to know exactly when Amanda needed a comforting touch. “We all make mistakes. I know that as well as anyone because I’ve made my share. Shannon has too.”
“It’s going to shock the crap out of her.”
“Yes. But she’ll be okay, and so will you.”
“I trust in what you’re saying, Claire. Thank you for believing in me. But now can we please change the subject and talk about something fun? Like the wedding cake I’m supposed to design for them?”
Claire laughed. Flagging down the waitress, she ordered coffee. They’d successfully killed the bottle of wine. “What’s that all about?”
“Didn’t you get a little wedding party assignment? Mine’s the cake, Jordan’s is the bachelor party.”
“Ah, yes. I’m supposed to compile a photo album of all the candid shots from this week. Guess I better get working on taking some photos or I’m going to get fired!”
“Tell you what. I’ll help you take photos if you help me design the wedding cake.”
“I’m not much of an artist. Not like you, Miss Architectural History Doctorate. But nice try on attempting to make a deal with me.”
“Oh, come on, you know you want to help me and you know you could use another person taking photos this week.”
Claire blushed a little, and it was an adorable contrast to her serious side. “All right, busted. When are you supposed to come up with this design?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’m supposed to meet with the pastry chef and go over it.”
“Tomorrow afternoon? Wow. Are you a last-minute crammer or something?”
“Sometimes.” Amanda laughed. “Especially if it’s something I’m putting off. We could have lunch together tomorrow and come up with something?” Yes, lunch together would be perfect. There was something exciting about making plans ahead of time with Claire, especially plans that didn’t involve anyone but the two of them. It produced a little tickle in her stomach.
“All right. I can see I’ve been roped into this. Lunch tomorrow, but let’s see if we can at least come up with some rough ideas on the drive back tonight.”
“Deal.”
Amanda took the wheel for the drive back to Las Vegas. They joked about the cake, jockeying to come up with the silliest idea. Amanda thought the cake should look like a ball and chain, Claire two breasts in profile touching one another.
“Ooh, Claire, I didn’t know you had it in you to be such a dirty girl!”
Claire’s laughter, so genuine and deep from her belly, made Amanda laugh too. “Don’t you dare tell anyone, especially not your aunt! I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Amanda parked the car in the hotel’s underground garage and cut the engine. Neither woman made a move to get out. “Thank you for listening to me tonight. And for not judging. It means so much to me.”
Claire pulled her in for a hug, the spontaneity of it catching her off guard a little, but she let herself be held tightly and took refuge in the broad shoulders and heavy breastedness of the older woman. It was comforting, nourishing, and perhaps something more, but she didn’t want to go there. Not yet.
Still holding her tight, Claire said encouragingly, “I’m here for you. And your aunt will be too if you give her the chance.”
“I know. I will. I guess I just needed to know it was going to be okay.”
She didn’t want to pull away and could have stayed in Claire’s arms all night, but she felt her stir and begin to release her. When she looked into Claire’s eyes, shadowed by the dimly lit garage, she had the faint impulse to kiss her. Their mouths were not far apart, and Claire was looking at her tenderly, perhaps a little expectantly.
No, Amanda thought. Impulsiveness has only gotten me into trouble, and I won’t do it again. She could get herself and Claire into so much trouble right now, but she resisted because it was really her only choice. It was hard, dammit. She needed the comfort of another woman so badly right now, but she would settle for the talk and the hug, and not the kisses and the full body contact she craved.
Chapter Sixteen
Jordan
Exhausted and sore from the hours and multitudinous positions of lovemaking, Jordan couldn’t be happier. She was energized beyond all reason, as if she’d been chewing on caffeine pills or amphetamines nonstop. She’d never known this kind of thrilling energy. It was empowering, invigorating, stimulating. It made her want to leap across tall buildings in a single bound, scale walls like a comic book superhero. It was the most intense high she’d ever known; nothing else compared.
They hadn’t left Dez’s room since after last night’s concert, and now, some twenty hours later, the remnants of the room service dinner shoved back out in the hall, Jordan ached for a quickie before Dez needed to get ready for her show.
“I’m sorry, Dez, but I can’t get enough of you,” she purred.
“I don’t think you’re sorry at all.”
“Okay, you’re right. I’m not sorry.”
Dez laughed and tugged Jordan along. They didn’t make it to the bed. The sofa was more than adequate for the job. Dez wore only a bathrobe, which was perfectly convenient for what Jordan had planned. She climbed into Dez’s lap and began kissing her neck and her luscious throat—that throat from which such beautiful music was given life. Her talent was a gift from the gods, and Jordan was privileged to lay her hands and mouth on such a gifted woman. Her fingers separated the silk robe as her mouth inched its way down, until finally she fell to her knees on the floor. Beautiful. Tenderly she took Dez into her mouth, lovingly ministering the needs of her erect clit and moist lips. Patiently and expertly her tongue swirled and her mouth sucked until Dez’s moans filled the air. Oh yes, sing to me baby. It was the most beautiful song she’d ever heard Dez sing. It was a song of desire and supplication, of joy and then fulfillment. It made Jordan’s own desire soar and overwhelm her.
Afterward they lay tangled on the sofa, touching, kissing, unquenched in their thirst to touch and be touched. Jordan marveled at their physical inseparableness. She’d never spent this many consecutive hours with a lover before. Had never wanted to
be inside another person the way she wanted to be inside Dez. It was confusing and it was uncharted territory, wanting and needing this. Maybe it was because of the wedding bells in the air, she reasoned, because surely it couldn’t be love. In any case, Dez didn’t seem to be minding the intensity. In fact, Dez seemed as much into her as she was into Dez, and the reciprocity was something to marvel at too. Typically Jordan’s conquests were far more into her than she was into them. Like a thousand percent more. Clingy and sentimental and sickly sweet. This was completely different, and while she didn’t particularly feel like analyzing the reasons why she felt as she did with Dez as she lay in her arms, she at least allowed herself to enjoy this immersion in the comfort and peacefulness that was Dez.
Moments later, as Dez showered and changed for the show, Jordan fleetingly wondered how Claire and Amanda’s day in the desert had gone, or was still going. Maybe they’d grabbed some crappy little motel room for the night so they could have at each other without the rest of the wedding party knowing their business. That’s what she would have done if she were in Claire’s shoes. She’d have just boldly pulled into a motel and blatantly seduced—and then screwed—the daylights out of Amanda. She tried to imagine Claire doing exactly that and the vision caused her to chuckle. Claire wouldn’t have the guts to make the first move. She was too hung up on their age difference and the myth that Amanda was unattainable. Well, Jordan could care less about the age difference, and as for Amanda being unattainable, ha, that was a joke. Amanda looked at Claire with the same affection and lust as Claire looked at her. God, life would be so much simpler if they’d just jump each other’s bones instead of making googly eyes at each other and acting so childish.
The Wedding Party Page 11