Her emotions were sitting too close to the surface now. She couldn’t allow herself to think about Rachel, to think about how good it felt to be next to her, to kiss her, to want her. Courtney knew at that moment that if she dwelled on what it all meant, she’d dissolve into heart-wrenching sobs and she just couldn’t bring herself to go there. The bright red numbers on the bedside clock said 3:57 and she knew instinctively she’d be getting no more sleep.
In the kitchen, she put the teakettle on the stove to heat up some water and puttered around in the dim yellow of the night-light Amelia had plugged in for her. It seemed less disturbing than turning the overhead light on, and she made tea often enough that she could probably do it in her sleep anyway.
Hot mug in hand, she wandered through the dining room in her bathrobe, the smell of wallpaper paste still tickling her nostrils. Amelia had done a beautiful job, and Courtney had the sudden urge to call her and tell her so again until she remembered the ungodly hour.
The yellow hue from the streetlights outside shone in just enough to help Courtney revisualize the subtle grapevine design of the border that ran along the wall against the ceiling. She’d decided to decorate the dining room in a slight and understated wine theme, with grapevines and old wine labels as part of the décor. She had her eye on a nice wood and wrought-iron wine rack that she planned to buy soon, stain to match the gumwood trim of the house, and place right against the wall centered beneath the high leaded-glass windows that were on the…
Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced up at one of the windows and focused on the silhouette outlined in the window of Bob’s house next door, seemingly looking right at her. With her heart hammering in her chest, Courtney moved quickly out of the line of sight, pressing her back against the dining room wall as if she were some sleuth in a mystery novel, about to be caught by the villain. Her tea sloshed over her hand and she gritted her teeth against the heat of it, but she was too panicked to move and set it down. She gave herself a few seconds to catch her breath, her palm to her chest like an elderly woman as she looked around and tried to think clearly. The dining room was dark. The streetlights peeking in dimly didn’t do much to lighten it, and she almost chuckled when she realized Bob probably couldn’t see inside at all—if that’s what he was even doing. Despite the pounding of her heart and the overexcited rushing of her blood, she rolled her eyes at herself.
“Jesus, Courtney, paranoid much?” she muttered aloud. Just because Bob was up at four in the morning and happened to be standing in his window, it didn’t mean he was trying to look in her house or at her.
She continued to reason it out. How would he even know she was up? She hadn’t turned on any lights. He couldn’t possibly predict she’d be standing in her dining room at four a.m., exactly the time he looked out his window.
She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all, but found herself just a little too freaked out to fully stand back in her earlier position. Instead, she turned very slightly so she could peek just enough to see without standing in full view. Bob’s upstairs light was on and his curtains were open. She could see the white wall of the room and the corner of what was probably a frame of something mounted on the wall. Bob was nowhere to be seen and in a few more seconds, the light went off. Courtney expelled her breath in a loud whoosh. Scrubbing hard at her forehead, she went into the kitchen and cleaned off her hand and mug.
The anger began to settle in then, as it always did when she realized how utterly alone she often felt without Theresa. If she were alive, Courtney would have run back upstairs and woken her up. Theresa would have “gotten her butch on,” as she liked to joke, and come downstairs to make sure everything was as it should be. She would have teased Courtney for her overactive imagination and tendency toward paranoia, they would have laughed over the whole thing, and—most importantly—Courtney would now feel safe. She missed that. And when the missing started, the anger subsided and the sadness took its place, filling her, the weight of it pressing down on her. She missed feeling safe and protected, relieved to have another person in the house, in the bed with her. That feeling hadn’t been detectable in a long, long time.
As her eyes pooled with the inevitable tears, she took her tea into the living room and flopped down onto the couch. The sudden exhaustion was nearly overwhelming.
*
“No, no. Sit down. I’ll get it.” Forestalling her sister’s attempt to rise from her chair with a firm hand on her shoulder, Rachel waited for her to sink back into the La-Z-Boy recliner. “How are you feeling?” she called to Emily from the kitchen as she poured a glass of ice water for her sister and grabbed a can of Coke for herself.
“Like a beached whale.” Emily grimaced at Rachel as she took the water, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Rachel thought she must have felt. Despite sitting in the most comfortable of chairs, she still looked awkward and irritated. Her legs stuck straight out in front of her, and her swollen belly was enormous and in the way of everything. “I’m so glad this is almost over. I’m huge. Everything is bloated or swollen or puffy. I had to take my wedding rings off. I haven’t seen below my waist since last month. Are my slippers on the right feet?”
“They are,” Rachel said with a grin, not wanting to laugh at Emily’s discomfort, but finding her unarguably beautiful just the same. “Nine months is a long time, huh?”
“You’re damn right, it is.”
Rachel continued to grin as she sipped from her soda and watched her little sister try unsuccessfully to find a relaxed position. “Can I help?”
“No. Just try to keep that smirk to yourself.”
Rachel’s grin widened. “I’m sorry, honey. But you are glowing. You know that, right?”
“That’s probably just the sweat I’ve worked up trying to shift in my seat.”
Rachel wasn’t fooled by Emily’s faux crankiness. Her sister was born to be a mother and was at her happiest when pregnant, the anticipation of a new child enough to make her giddy. She was an incredible parent, showing patience, guidance, and determination that Rachel never knew she had. Watching her now, Rachel felt herself fill with pride.
They didn’t look a lot alike. Most people were surprised to know they were sisters. Rachel favored their father heavily, the light hair, the pale eyes, the long, lean frame. Emily was more their mother, a bit shorter, not heavy, but not as long and lean as Rachel, her hair more reddish than blond, her eyes a much deeper blue. Despite the lack of resemblance, though, they couldn’t be closer. They didn’t have a lot in common and their personalities were quite different, but they meant the world to one another. Rachel credited their parents’ divorce for that. She had taken it upon herself at a very young age to be the Grand Protector of her little sister, often to Emily’s dismay.
“What does the doctor say?” she asked, snapping back into the present. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, that’s why I asked you to swing by.”
Arching an eyebrow, Rachel braced herself. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Emily waved her hand dismissively, her fingers sausage-like and swollen. “Relax. I wanted to let you know that I decided to have another C-section.”
“You did? How come?” Rachel knew that once a woman had a C-section, as Emily had with her firstborn, the option was there to have another with the next child. She was surprised, though, because she’d been sure Emily would opt for natural childbirth. It was what she’d wanted with Jake before unforeseen medical emergencies involving the umbilical cord and his neck.
“Greg and I got talking to the doctor about it, and it just seems like it’s better all the way around. I won’t have to go through labor, which means no screaming.” She winked. “I already have a scar, so that’ll be nothing new. Plus, the baby will come out all round instead of with a cone head and it’s less traumatic than squeezing it through a teeny, tiny little hole.” The ice cubes in her glass clinked as she lifted the water to her lips and took a healthy gulp. “Not to m
ention, there won’t be any of that messy ripping-Mommy-open-down-there nonsense.”
“That’s reason enough for me right there,” Rachel agreed.
“And I’ve arranged it so you can be in the room.”
Rachel blinked at her. “What?”
“If you want to,” Emily added quickly. “I know you were supposed to help me give birth to Jake and nobody knew he had other plans, so…I wanted you to have another opportunity. No pressure, though. It’s completely up to you.”
“Are you kidding?” Hiding her grin was not an option; she beamed. “I’m so there.”
“Good.” Emily smiled back at her, obviously pleased by her sister’s enthusiasm.
“When?”
“I’ll know in the next couple of weeks. As soon as the doctor schedules me, I’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks, Em.” Rachel felt a little silly with the goofy grin plastered across her face, but she couldn’t seem to make it dim even a small amount.
*
“Okay, that would have scared me, too.” Amelia took a sip of her coffee and studied Courtney carefully as they sat at the Tyler’s kitchen table. Courtney had dropped by to thank Amelia in person for the beautiful job she did on the dining room the previous night and ended up telling her of the early morning scare she’d had.
Courtney waved a dismissive hand. “Please. It was me being paranoid because I had very little sleep and weird dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
Courtney almost kicked herself for even bringing them up. “Nothing important. Just weird stuff that didn’t make any sense.” She felt Amelia’s gaze on her as she took a bite of the brownie she snagged from the plate in the middle of the table.
“Uh-huh.” Amelia’s tone said she didn’t believe a word of it, but she was letting it go for now. “So? How was the date?”
“The date.” Courtney tried to hide the smile that forced the corners of her mouth up. “The date was good.”
“Apparently,” Amelia said with a chuckle. “I can tell by looking at you.” She reached across the table and playfully slapped at Courtney’s arm. “Details, girl!”
Courtney recounted the entire evening, from start to finish, sharing the size of the crowd, the number of people she met, Rachel’s popularity and passion for the organization, and how impressed she’d been with all of it.
“Sounds like you had fun with Ms. Icy Cool.”
“I did.”
“Kiss her good night?”
The twinkle in Amelia’s dark eyes made Courtney blush, which completely gave her away.
“You did kiss her, didn’t you?” Amelia cackled with glee.
“If you must know, she kissed me,” Courtney corrected, feeling a smile blossom on her own face.
“And?”
“She kissed me very well.”
Amelia smiled. “That’s so great, C. Are you going to see her again?”
“Yeah, I’m going to cook her dinner.”
“That’s fantastic. Once she tastes your cooking, you’ll never get rid of her.”
“We’ll see.” Courtney became gradually quiet until she was studying the brownie as if it were some sort of new species.
“C? What’s wrong?”
Courtney knew better than to try to hide things from her best friend. Amelia was always aware when something was bothering her, and she wouldn’t let her rest until she gave it up. It was less aggravating to just let her win from the beginning because they both knew she’d end up winning anyway. Courtney met her gaze. “Do you…” She furrowed her brow and concentrated on finding the right words, then tried again. “Do you think it’s weird that I kissed Rachel and then had a sex dream about Theresa that same night?”
“Oh, honey.” Amelia waved a hand glibly at her. “I’ve kissed Carl and then had a sex dream about The Rock. Is that weird?”
Courtney wrinkled her nose. “Um, a little. Yeah.”
“Hey!” Amelia tossed her napkin at Courtney, making her laugh. When their giggling eased up, Amelia scrutinized Courtney’s face closely. “Do you like this girl?”
Courtney inhaled deeply and blew it out. “It’s kind of early on…but, yeah. I think I do. I’d really like to get to know her better.”
Approval showed on Amelia’s face. When she spoke, her tone was gentle. “Theresa would be okay with that. She wouldn’t want you to be alone. You know that, right?”
“I do know that. I do. Deep down inside, I do. But there’s still that little voice that won’t shut up, you know? It’s always there.”
“The one that says you’re cheating on her?”
“That’s the one.”
“You’ve got to ignore it, C. It doesn’t mean anything. You’ve got to tune it out.”
“Easy to say.”
“I know.”
Amelia’s twelve-year-old son, Kyle, chose that moment to interrupt and for that, Courtney was grateful. He kissed her cheek as he walked by, his body all gangly limbs and enormous feet, his face a carbon copy of his mother’s.
“Hey, Aunt Courtney.”
“Hi, Kyle. What’s new?”
“Me and the guys are gonna shoot some hoops down at Mike’s.” As an afterthought, he looked to Amelia. “That okay, Ma?”
“Be back here by four,” she said sternly.
“’Kay.”
“God, he’s getting big,” Courtney said as she watched him bolt from the room.
“You have no idea.” Amelia sounded wistful. “Sometimes, I feel like I placed this little baby gently in his crib and when I came back in the next morning, he was practically a teenager.” Looking back at Courtney, she said, “When is she coming for dinner? And what are you going to make her?”
“No idea. On both counts. It won’t be this week; she’s busy. But she said next week was a definite. She’s supposed to call me to confirm her schedule.” Inside, Courtney hoped it would be sooner rather than later. She also wondered if she’d survive the wait, but she wasn’t yet ready to admit either fact aloud.
*
“Hello?”
“Courtney? It’s Rachel.”
“Hey. Hi. How are you?”
Warmth spread through Rachel’s body as she listened to Courtney’s voice, certain she sounded glad to hear from her. “I’m good. I didn’t expect to get you. Aren’t you in school?”
“It’s my lunch hour. Do you want me to hang up and then you can call back and I’ll let my voice mail pick up?”
Rachel could hear the teasing note and she laughed with self-deprecation. “No. I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“What’s up? Are you calling to give me your dinner night preference?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“And?”
“How’s next Wednesday?”
“Next Wednesday’s perfect. Does six work for you?”
“Six would be great. What can I bring?”
“Just your smiling face. Think you can manage that?” Courtney’s teasing had taken a tiny detour into enticing and Rachel couldn’t remember the last time she’d participated in a little innocent flirting. She had to admit, she liked it.
“I think so. Will yours be there as well?”
“Oh, it definitely will.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
Rachel hung up the phone, feeling both nervous and elated, like a high school kid asking somebody out. She’d been right; when checking her schedule, she found she had both Wednesday and Friday free. To her surprise, she also found she’d rather see Courtney again sooner than later. That gave her a case of the jitters.
Chiding herself for being ridiculous and refusing to analyze it any further, she pulled out the paperwork on a house she was going to show that afternoon and tried to concentrate. These clients were difficult. Nothing ever seemed to be quite right; there was always some small issue with each house that negated every positive aspect, and Rachel was beginning to lose patience with them. But th
ese were also the kind of clients that were her bread and butter. If she could find these overly particular, hard-to-please people a house that they loved, they’d pass her name on to everybody they knew and she’d get more business out of them as payment for her hard work and fortitude. More business meant more money. More money was never a bad thing. Trying to focus, however, proved more difficult than she’d expected as her mind kept drifting back to her date with Courtney, bringing an inadvertent smile to her lips.
Friday evening had gone way better than she’d ever expected. Courtney had been charming and fun and seemed really impressed with Happy Acres and its staff—not that impressing her had been the point. But the animal shelter meant a lot to Rachel and she found herself inexplicably pleased that Courtney had understood that immediately.
Her gaze slipping from the paperwork in front of her to an unspecific spot in the living-room air, Rachel touched her fingertips to her lips. Kissing Courtney had not been in her plans. She was not one to move that quickly. Truth be told, she normally moved much slower than was deemed necessary by most normal people. She thought things out, planned each step with painstaking precision, mapped out her life from beginning to end. Spontaneity was not a common word in her vocabulary. But Rachel couldn’t help herself; that kiss had been truly unexpected, totally spontaneous.
And hot. God.
Rachel was almost positive her lips were still warm to the touch.
She was nervous. Just a little bit. Moving too quickly always had that effect on her. Being impulsive meant that more than likely, something would bite you in the ass later, when you weren’t expecting it. If there was one thing Rachel Hart despised more than anything else in the world, it was being caught off guard.
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