Or maybe, just maybe, he was counting on her to reject him. Public humiliation would give him six to twelve months to nurse his allegedly broken heart before his mother dared nag him about his lack of female companionship.
Or not, because it was also easy to imagine her urging him to get back in the saddle as soon as possible.
Or maybe he was serious.
Was he serious?
Mother…friend… Those were words that rang true. He might even love her, albeit in a caring, friend-like way, although he hadn’t gone so far as to used the word love. Would’ve been helpful if he’d announced he wanted to boink her brains out, because she knew he didn’t want to do that, so that would have clarified things.
Still trapping her hand between his larger, stronger ones, Axel drew their hands to his chest, begging, apparently unaware that his beaming, confident smile ruined the illusion, because anyone who saw that smile would know begging wasn’t in his nature. It was clear that in his mind, this was already a done deal.
This was what she got for being nice. For stroking his male ego and assuming that in return, he would do what she needed him to do. She did honestly like him—as a friend—but keeping up their charade, although it had started out fun, had taken a lot of effort. And this was how he thanked her. Did it even occur to him that she had feelings? That Gus did?
Jori yanked her hand out of his and stalked off the stage. As she returned to her row, Axel’s mother dropped to her seat, hands still covering her mouth.
“My future wife is so happy she’s in shock,” Axel explained into the microphone, remarkably undeterred.
Jori shook in her flimsy chair, hating the sea of sideways glances and outright stares.
“What do you say, cupcake? Marry me?”
It seemed walking away wasn’t enough of an answer. He was like a pit bull with a bone, and he wasn’t going to let it drop until she did some damage. So she’d have to do some damage.
Jori didn’t have a mic, but she raised her voice the way she would in aerobics class to ensure her words carried over the crowd. “You’re going to have to hire a new actress. I’m through.”
Axel’s mouth became an angry, flat line. With an excessive show of care, he returned the microphone to the dean. He did not return to the empty chair in the row where he was supposed to sit. Instead, he left. Just up and left the tent. Jori turned in her seat and watched. Gus swiveled in his seat, too, arms folded across his chest, slowly shaking his head. Axel didn’t speed up and he didn’t slow down, just kept going across the green until the campus buildings blocked him from view.
The dean cleared his throat and read the next name on the list.
Gus didn’t get up and run after his boyfriend. And why should he? Axel had just publicly announced that the most important person in his life was someone else.
* * *
Later that night, with Baylee asleep in the adjoining room, Rae kicked off her shoes and stretched out behind Jori on the sofa, tugging up her comfortable worn capris at the hip to allow her full flexibility so she could hug her with not just her arms but also her legs and burrow her feet in Jori’s lap.
Jori dropped her head back to rest on Rae’s shoulder and traced the curve of her bare calves. “I can’t even tell anymore which one was injured.”
The not-yet-faded scars from the surgery made that a lie, but she knew what she meant—that the muscles that had shrunk so quickly after the injury had regained their former shape.
It should have been a relief. It was a relief. But it was bittersweet, too, because it meant her time living at the Mountain Laurel Center was over. And it was scary and exciting, because she had to find a new job. And it was everything she could hope for, because Jori wanted to move to New York with her.
“When do we pack for our new lives together?” Jori asked.
Love swelled in Rae’s heart until the force of it made her chest ache. “Right now.”
“Not right, right now,” Jori protested, twisting in her lap to press a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone.
“Tomorrow morning, then.” Neither one of them had much to pack, so it wouldn’t take long. Their next move would be different, because she and Jori and Baylee would have a place of their own, with their own furniture and everything. A home.
“Tomorrow,” Jori agreed.
Rae hugged her close. “Thank you for doing this.”
“I was going to have to move somewhere anyway, right? So why not go where you’re going?”
“But what if your dream job is somewhere else?”
Rae had thrown away the best job of her career, and she ought to be worrying about what she needed to do to outshine the competition in all the auditions she was going to start going to, but instead she was holding her breath, waiting to hear what her girlfriend would say.
“My dream job is anyplace that will hire me that’s close enough that you’ll come home to me at night.”
Rae let out her breath and rearranged their position to draw Jori into a kiss. If she was ever reinjured, or when the day came that she was too old to dance, her life wouldn’t be over. She’d have this. She touched her nose to Jori’s. “Sounds suspiciously like I might be in love with a lesbian.”
Jori tensed. Just a slight little bit, the reaction so muted that she might not have noticed if Jori weren’t wrapped so tightly in her arms. Crap. She hadn’t meant… Was it too soon to joke about this?
“Uh…”
“You know I love you exactly the way you are,” Rae said, “but God help me, if you say no labels, I’m going to…I’m going to…I don’t know what I’ll do.” Sleep with her again and not feel bad about it later, most likely. Again and again for the rest of her life.
She should be so lucky.
“I—”
“So to compensate,” Rae said, “I’m giving myself an additional label. PWLJBNMW. Person Who Loves Jori Burgess No Matter What.”
“That’s—” Jori shook her head and laughed. “I want to say ridiculous, but it’s actually kind of nice.”
“Good.” Rae stroked Jori’s cheek and felt Jori’s tension disappear. “Because I have this theory that you might be it for me.”
Jori captured her hand and kissed her palm. “Hey, I’m the one with the theories.”
“You’re rubbing off on me.”
“Am I?” Jori curled her hands softly around Rae’s shoulders. Her voice, always a bit rough, became even hoarser. “You didn’t even ask if I’d be a Person Who Loves Rae Peters. But, you know what? I am. I want a future with you. You’re my ray of sunshine. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
“Me neither,” Rae whispered, her vocal cords suddenly as unreliable as Jori’s. She didn’t need Jori to define herself as not bi and not straight if she’d narrowed it down to one person—and that one person was her. She could live with knowing her identity wasn’t black and white. Jori was a person, not a label. She deserved to be seen as herself, not judged by the box Rae had put her in.
Because it was too late. She already loved her. She could either acknowledge that and trust that they would do their best, or she could run away and spend the rest of her life regretting it. And if Jori didn’t fit the box Rae had always thought she wanted—the no boys allowed box—the box that meant no history with men, no interest in men, no ex-husbands, no ex-boyfriends, no prepubescent crushes—the box she’d been so certain was her only acceptable option—so what? Being together made them both happy, so obviously she’d been wrong.
It felt great to be wrong.
She had no doubts anymore, only certainty—a bright, blazing, solid certainty that this complicated woman was the one she wanted to live the rest of her life with. She kissed her cheekbones, her jaw, her welcoming mouth. Whatever the future held, they’d face it together. She was ready.
THE END
Also by Siri Caldwell
; Angel’s Touch
2014 Golden Crown Literary Society Award finalist for Best Debut Novel
“A well-written romance with a slightly different plotline. The reader isn’t required to suspend much belief to feel the story is realistic. The characters are interesting… Overall it was quite enjoyable.” —Piercing Fiction: Straight Arrow Reviews
Kira has one goal: to make money by opening an exclusive spa in scenic Piper Beach. Megan agrees to help, but money is the last thing on her mind.
Kira Wagner needs a local expert to get her new hotel and spa up and running. Megan McLaren’s name is at the top of her list. Megan isn’t aware that the woman on her massage table is planning to offer her a job. She gives her healing touch as she would to anyone and turns down the invitation to dinner. But the persistent Kira awakens something else in Megan: memories of pasts they may have shared, none of which ended happily. When Megan realizes exactly where Kira plans to build her hotel, she agrees to consult, but her only goal is to make sure the new hotel doesn’t ruin the sacred space nearby. She wishes she could tell Kira the truth, but she’s deeply afraid that Kira will look at her like every other woman in her life when she explains about the powerful ley lines…and the angels…
Earth Angel
New England Chapter, Romance Writers of America Readers’ Choice Award finalist for Best Contemporary Romance of 2013
“A wonderfully imaginative novel…Abby and Gwynne are completely engaging.” —Katherine V. Forrest, Lambda Literary Award-winning author
People say Abby Vogel sounds like an angel when she plays her harp at weddings and other events in beautiful Piper Beach. They don’t need to know that real angels—or possibly figments of her imagination—keep her company. They wouldn’t understand.
Gwynne Abernathy blames herself for the deaths of her sister and mother. Her psychic gifts have brought her only grief, and she’s turned her back on anything that isn’t “normal”. Abby’s kindness and quirkiness are irresistible, but there must be a reason Abby is swarmed by angels, and she suspects that when she discovers it she’ll want to stay far, far away.
Abby knows immediately that there is more to Gwynne than meets the eye. When she realizes she’s not the only one who sees angels—that Gwynne sees them, too—she finally trusts that her glowing friends are not hallucinations. What’s more, the angels desperately need something from her. If she answers their call, it means giving up the magic she feels with Gwynne. It means giving up…everything.
About the Author
Siri Caldwell began her career as a hydrogeologist wearing hip-high waders to slog through polluted streams and struggling not to tumble into the water in front of her older, more experienced colleagues. In addition to keeping her balance, she quickly learned that when collecting water samples on farmland and encountering an angry cow, it is best to back away. (Cows: not as docile and picturesque as you’d think.) Now she works at a desk, where the risk of falling or being surprised by interspecies encounters is low and she is not required to wear tall boots of any kind.
When not busy being a dutiful contestant in the rat race, she writes romance novels. Lesbian romance novels—because if anyone knows how to make a relationship complicated, it’s a lesbian. And complicated is a good thing on the way to happily ever after.
She lives with her partner outside Washington, DC.
Visit her online at www.siricaldwell.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
About Deal-Breaker
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Also by Siri Caldwell
About the Author
Table of Contents
Copyright
About Deal-Breaker
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Also by Siri Caldwell
About the Author
Deal-Breaker Page 22