“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.
I wiped orange lipstick off the edge of my paper cup to avoid his eyes. “Not particularly, no.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Listen, I know you don’t like it when I or anyone else sticks their nose in your business—”
“Then why do I feel like that’s exactly what you’re about to do?”
“—but sometimes you do need to be told when you’re being your own worst enemy.”
I lifted an eyebrow in a show that was as much curiosity as it was a warning for him to tread lightly. “Excuse me?”
His eyes softened. “You still haven’t talked to Jackie, have you?”
“How can you tell?” I asked wryly.
“That smile of yours I was just starting to get used to has been noticeably absent..”
I tried to pass him to where my phone and sweet, sweet, endless bureaucratic distraction awaited, but he held out his hand to block my path.
I huffed. “Do you mind?”
He squared his shoulders. “You can’t always run away from your problems, Gwen.”
“I don’t run away from—”
“Fine! Then you can’t always ignore your problems. Or argue them into submission.”
“I’d argue against that last part,” I joked weakly.
He sighed in exasperation and shook his head. The man had the patience of a saint, but my stubbornness was a force all its own.
“If this is about that article—” he started.
“It’s not,” I said quickly. I turned my back to him to dump my coffee in the sink. It was cold anyway. “It wasn’t. She just made it very clear that whatever it was we had wasn’t worth her precious reputation. Honestly, it was a good call. Optics-wise.”
I walked back to the coffee maker and stubbornly avoided catching Jeffrey’s concerned eye. I grabbed another cup and watched the liquid drip slowly into it. Silence stretched between us. I was stubborn, but Jeffrey had put up with me for fifteen years. If there was anyone who could wait me out it was him
“If I had been her agent, I would have told her to cut all ties immediately,” I said to the cup. The coffee maker beeped and stopped pouring. I watched the steam rise and disappear. “She kept talking about it, about how this was going to make things harder for her. She’s got that . . . stupid charity bout thing, and she doesn’t even want to do it, but—”
I cut myself off when I felt my voice start to shake and couldn’t tell if it was anger or hurt. I sipped my coffee, and it burned. “If it had been a debate, I would have lost it. I thought with my heart instead of my head.”
“There are no winners or losers when you’re on the same team, Gwen.” Footsteps padded behind me. I expected a soft touch to the shoulder, but all Jeffrey did was say, “If you think it was a good call, why are you upset?”
I turned around and faced him with a million retorts on the tip of my tongue. He wore the same look of calm patience he’d had the night I had come out to him, along with something my traitorous mind wanted to paint as pity, but the rest of me knew was only concern.
I closed my eyes and sighed. “Because I didn’t think about that. Because I didn’t even think of a scenario where we wouldn’t still be together. I knew cutting ties was the best course of action for her, and I couldn’t even think of it because . . . I couldn’t imagine not being with her.”
Jeffrey smiled sadly. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Gwen.”
“Yes there is,” I snapped. ”I make these strategic choices for a living. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at it. And I was willing to burn all the ground we’ve scrounged for ourselves over some woman? A woman who didn’t even feel the same?”
“Maybe she was scared,” he insisted. “And she wasn’t just some woman to you. She was a woman you cared about.”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, fully aware I was getting defensive. “Can you stop talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like she was the reason for my happiness.”
“I’m not saying she was the sole reason for your happiness. I’m only saying she was a significant part of it.”
I stared down hard at cup of coffee.
“Do you know what Dick said to me? After our last debate?”
His brows flew to his hairline. “Oh, this I have to hear.”
I laughed in spite of myself, but sobered quickly. “He told me about your mom . . . how he ended up neglecting her because of his single-minded focus on winning. He’s convinced that’s what happened with me and Jackie. I should be offended, right? Since when do I need a lecture on my relationships from that man? Ugh.”
“Do you disagree with him?”
“That’s the truly fucked part of all this, Jeff, I don’t. Never in my life have I ever wanted to have anything in common with Richard ‘Call Me Dick’ Crawford.” I smiled wryly.
He smiled sadly. “I know that’s your actual, literal nightmare come true.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?” I said softly. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
I grabbed my purse and phone and headed for the door. I didn’t expect Jeffrey to follow me, and he didn’t. My phone vibrated with a notifs for new emails. The slowly building headache that had been flirting at the edge of my consciousness began to throb. I was never in the mood for this, but now I had even less patience for it.
Figuring those emails could wait until I got home, I unlocked my phone to go for my Lyft app. My fingers were poised over the screen when a text message popped up.
Jackie: can we talk?
Jackie: in person
Jackie: please
I stared down at the texts, reading them over and over in my head, understanding them slowly, like they were in some foreign language.
It would be easy to delete them. As petty as it was, I could wipe her from my life and start over anew, confident that I hadn’t caved, that I wasn’t the one to catch feelings. The election was nearing to a close, and I needed to get back in the game. There had been too much time spent with my head in a cloud of Jacklyn Dunn.
With fingers I refused to let shake, I typed out a response. Absolution was only a keystroke away.
Where?
I didn’t let myself wonder what the hell was going on until I was hovering at the entrance of The Rose, waiting.
I looked down at my phone and stared at the little 1 icon, indicating the voicemail Jackie had left me. My finger hovered to play it over again, but instead I shoved it in my pocket and slipped inside.
Meeting at The Rose had been my choice. The space was public enough to deter a scene, but private enough that I would feel safe regardless. I didn’t let myself entertain any other reasons why I chose here to meet—flowery nonsense about beginnings and ends be damned.
I stood posted up by the bar watching the door for what felt like an eternity before Gwen walked in. She scanned the room and went stiff when she saw me. She pushed up the side of her afro—a nervous habit I always thought was cute, but never told her in case she got self-conscious and stopped—and walked over to me with her back straight and head high.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly.
I shifted and drew myself to my full height even though she still towered over me. “Hi.”
She shoved her hands into her pockets and flickered her eyes to the ground, to the exit, then back to me. “Want a drink?”
“I could use something stiff and neat.”
She gazed out at the crowded floor. They were screening that new Jenny Kate flick in the theater, and room was scarce.
“Someone’s in our spot,” she said.
Our spot. I tamped down on the emotion threatening to burst out of my mouth without my consent before I could put a name to it.
“I see two free stools at the end of the bar,” I told her. I didn’t wait for her to agree before I headed toward them.
I grabbed one of the stools and sat down a
nd Gwen followed not far behind. I automatically searched out Kim’s face, it being her bartending shift in all, but couldn’t find her in the shuffle.
“Hey there, ladies,” a short bartender with shockingly blue hair—Barb, according to her name tag—greeted us. “What can I get for you?”
“Whiskey, neat.”
“Can I get a club soda?” Jackie asked. This time I was too slow to stop the swell of fondness and longing before it punched me in the chest. I hid a ghost of my smile behind my hand.
Neither of us spoke before Barb came back with our drinks. Jackie, presumably, because of the nerves shaking her leg against the cramped bar. Me, because I was stubborn to the bitter end. I grabbed my glass and drained half of it in one go. I watched Jackie’s long fingers run through the condensation on her can out the corner of my eye.
God, please say something.
“I’m sorry.”
Jackie’s head snapped up. My mouth stayed open as if the words would jump back into my mouth. I snapped it shut. I didn’t want them to.
“Hey, that’s my line,” she joked weakly.
I slouched in my chair with a sigh. When I looked at her, she was smiling tentatively. I’d almost forgotten how that smile made me feel.
“It’s true, though,” she said quickly. “I wanted to talk to you so I could apologize about all of this. You were right, I was being a coward. I’m sorry.”
My fist curled around my glass. “No, you told me about what happened to you with your team. I knew how much that hurt you, and I should have respected your feelings. I guess I have a problem with backing down. I was projecting all my shit on you. And I was afraid that you . . . that you were going to break it off, so I decided to break it off first. You . . . It seemed like you didn’t want me, and I wanted you so much more, and I just . . . I was an idiot.”
I stared straight ahead at the row of bottles behind the bar. The crowd around us was loud, but I could hardly hear it over my thoughts jumbling together, waiting to get out. With a flick of my wrist, I downed the rest of my whiskey and turned back to face her.
I swallowed once, twice. I cursed my empty glass but kept my grip tight around it anyway.
“I lied before. What we had meant something to me. You mean something to me. I wanted to keeping things low and casual. That was the plan. But you—” I paused and narrowed my eyes, my cheeks blown in a huff. “God, you’re something else, you know that? With your stupid long legs and bright eyes and appetite like a hypoglycemic eight-year-old. I wanted this to be casual, but you had to go and be all amazing. The nerve. Wait, no. I’m not pushing this on you. I only wanted to keep things casual so I wouldn’t end up hurt, because if anyone’s going to hurt me, it’s going to be myself, apparently. Because politics has drilled the not-so-subtle art of being subtle and subdued into me. Because I don’t know how to act any other way. And what do you think about that, Jackie?”
She groaned and rubbed her temples. “I think maybe you should have ordered something fruity and with a lower alcohol content.”
A genuine laugh caught me by surprise. I rolled my eyes. “I’m not drunk, just—I want you to understand where I’m coming from here. You understand, don’t you? You understand me.”
Her eyes were bright in the dim light. “I really want to. I think I might a little more every day.”
My eyes widened. I thought of all the times Jackie had opened up in subtle ways to make room for me in her life. The soft, self-deprecating tone her voice took when she talked about herself compared to the light, excited feeling when she talked about basketball or sugar or Olivia. Or me.
I had been crushingly reserved with my secrets, the way I always was. There was no room for vulnerability in politics. Giving too much of yourself away was like giving your opponent a loaded gun and trusting they wouldn’t shoot.
The voice in my head that sounded like Jeffrey reminded me love wasn’t a game. There are no winners or losers when you’re on the same team.
Christ.
“I was married to a man for fifteen years,” I said softly, looking down at my empty glass. “I had the divorce papers in my purse after six, when I realized the whole lesbian thing wasn’t just gonna resolve itself. But then I just . . . kept going, because he was nice, and everyone thought we were nice, and it was easy.
“I know I don’t seem like the kind of woman that prefers easy, but I was. Am, still, sometimes. I grew up with the belief that appearances are everything drilled into me, and I internalized that. So I married my best friend, and I didn’t love him, but I was loved, and for a long time that was good enough. Then I got out and had to fight everyone tooth and nail for looking at me like I was akin to damaged goods. So I fought some more, pushed some more, and after a while, I didn’t have to fight as hard.”
Jackie’s hand slipped over both of mine and gave a tentative squeezed. I flipped mine over to cradle hers.
“Since my divorce, I’ve tried dating, but I’ve mostly ended up with one-night stands and a few on-again, off-again fuck buddies. This is the first real, more-than-sex relationship I’ve had in . . . God, I’m old.”
That got a laugh out of her, her mouth split wide on a grin. I wanted to kiss it right off her.
“You are not old, Jesus Christ,” she chastised.
The smile on my face slipped back into a somber line. “I know I’m probably not making much sense here, but what I’m saying is . . . I want you to know that being with me may not be easy, but I really want this to work. I like having you around. Even if you chug a cup of sugar every morning.”
Her lips were on mine faster than I could process. The faint taste of club soda lingered on her tongue as she deepened the kiss. I closed my eyes and let myself map and relearn the contours of her smile.
When she pulled away, she was smiling that sunshine smile. Warmth spread through me from toes to tips, and I was absolutely sure I looked like a lovesick idiot and just as sure I didn’t care.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop grinning. I laced our fingers together in a tight squeeze as she sipped her soda and pressed our thighs together under the bar.
Barb brought another whiskey that I was thankfully less distressed enough to sip this time instead of chugging it. She turned around in her chair so we were facing one another, our linked hands dangling in the space between us.
“So this is it, huh?” I asked. “We’re starting over.”
She shook her head. “Hmm, no. I think of this as the first time.”
I tilted my head and smirked. “So this is . . . a date. Our first date.”
Jackie’s eyebrows flew up. “Is that a statement or a question?”
“Let’s consider it a statement awaiting approval.”
“To be honest with you, I considered the second time we met to be the first of our dates.”
I let my expression turn coy. “Oh?”
Her smirk was flirting with the side of self-deprecating. “Not that one. I mean when you nearly bit my head off at The Rose.”
“You mean when I tried to fight you? Ah, yes, I remember that.”
“Up until that point it was going really well, though, wasn’t it? Then we met again and we, well, you know.”
I leered. “You can say the word, Jackie. Fucked. We fucked.”
The first time we hooked up had been spontaneous, at least for me. Stress from the campaign and dealing with Dick and his minions had driven my decision-making and increased my appetite for stress relief. It felt like lifetimes ago by now.
I smirked. “Okay, so if I were to take you home right now, would you consider what we did make-up sex, or . . . ?”
“You’re mocking me, and I am not having it, lady. You were the one to proposition me, remember?”
“I do remember. I remember very well.”
We kissed and it was slower, sweeter. The softness of her lips and the barest hint of sugar sweetness on her tongue was familiar, but I melted underneath it like it was the first time. I’d almost lost this,
Jackie’s warmth and sweetness. I drank in the kisses she gave me like wine.
When she pulled away, I made a noise of protest. She smiled and kissed me pliant.
“Shh, let’s go to your room.”
I grabbed her hand and dragged her back to my room. Our lips were locked before we hit the bed, drowning in each other again. Fingers pushed at clothing with possessive but unhurried movements. I pulled myself from her lips to tug the worn hoodie off her and press our skins together. The moonlight streaming through the curtains cast a glow across her face. I wished I had thought to turn on the light so I could recommit the planes of her face to memory properly.
I peppered her collarbone with kisses and felt her chest vibrate with a deep chuckle.
I looked up and regarded her with a smile. “What?”
Her hands came to rest on my hips with a firm squeeze. The twinkle of mirth in her tugged the corners of my mouth even wider.
“Nothing.” She placed a kiss on my chin. “You just look like a lovestruck sap.”
I pinched her side and revelled at her indignant yelp. She was right. I was acting like we were in one of those cheesy romance movies I mocked her for liking so much. I had that heart-eyes, full-chest, can’t-stop-smiling feeling, and I couldn't hide it. Hadn’t been able to for a while. It was thrilling and a little terrifying, but I looked at the smug grin on her face and I could only think about kissing her again.
I resisted the urge and instead pinched her. She grabbed my arm in a gentle grip. “You act like you don’t want me to eat you out.”
Her eyes darkened and her legs opened wider around me. “No, I definitely want that.”
I flirted with the idea of making her wait a bit more and maybe even get her to beg, but I didn’t think I would last that long. I slid down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in my wake as more and more of her was bared to me. I let the I’m sorrys I couldn’t say come in the kisses I pressed to her thighs and the bruises I left on her shoulders. By the time I nestled between her thighs, she was shaking from my amends.
I let my breath ghost over her clit, building her anticipation so I could watch her abs clench and flex it with it. I swiped my tongue out to flick at her clit and tightened my arms when her thighs threatened to box me in.
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