“I know. I should have.” She got up off the bed and reached for the remote, muting the television before sitting back down cross-legged in front of Meg. “I spent a lot of time thinking exactly that while I was pacing the floor wondering who was checking you out while I was here watching HGTV.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
Sasha looked at the window, her brow crinkling with stress. “I don’t know.” She made eye contact. “I was nervous, I guess.”
“Why?” Meg couldn’t conceal her surprise.
“Gah”—Sasha rolled her eyes—“I can’t make any decisions at all lately.” She rubbed the tops of her knees nervously. “Between work, where I’m barely treading water, and everything with my mom…” She shook her head. “I’m a basket case.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Meg kissed her sweetly. “You have to relax. It’s all going to be fine. I promise.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.” Meg squeezed Sasha’s hands for emphasis.
Sasha leaned back and touched her forehead to Meg’s. “I was thinking…” She toyed with a button on Meg’s shirt. “What are you doing for New Year’s?”
The truth was Meg really didn’t have any plans. She hated going out in the city on such a crazy and expensive night. Tracy was out of the picture, and Lexi and Jesse were headed to the Cape. She had never even considered the possibility Sasha would be willing to spend such a traditionally public holiday together. Completely at a loss, Meg stared at her blankly.
“Is your development having anything?” Sasha’s voice sounded hopeful and Meg hated to deflate her, but she was pretty sure there wasn’t anything on Bay West’s schedule.
“Not that I know of. Why?”
Sasha drifted her hand from Meg’s shirt to her exposed chest, her finger making tiny lines along the freckles there. “I thought it would be nice for us to be together on New Year’s Eve.” She was blushing as she continued. “I want to kiss you at midnight.” She pulled back a little. “Why do you look so surprised?”
Meg resisted the urge to answer truthfully, replacing her instinctive reaction with an entirely new option. “What about going to Cape Cod?” she asked.
Registering Sasha’s complete confusion, Meg explained. “Look, I don’t really know if anything is going on at the development. There might be an open house. I can check, if that’s what you want to do. But most of my friends wouldn’t be there anyway.” She tried not to sound as completely excited as she was over this new possibility. “Lexi and Jesse are spending New Year’s up at Jesse’s family’s house on the Cape. They invited me. Initially I said no thanks. But if you came with me, that would be fun. It might be really nice to get away for the weekend.”
Sasha hesitated for a second. “Would, like, their whole families be there?”
“No.” Meg smiled. “It’s just Jesse and Lexi going. They have some wedding stuff to finalize still. It would just be the four of us.”
Sasha’s eyes softened. “Then, yes. I would love to go to Cape Cod with you for New Year’s.”
Chapter Twenty
Midafternoon on New Year’s Day, Tracy trudged along Bay West’s icy sidewalks making her way to Meg’s unshoveled walkway, already missing LA’s milder temperatures. Dropping her bags inside the foyer, she reached for the snow shovel inside the coat closet and made quick work of the fresh six inches that had fallen overnight. The snow was light and powdery, providing a clean surface on top of the previous week’s ten inches, piled high on lawns and driveways and in between parked cars and packed into every available inch of free space.
Even though it was hardly a workout, it felt good to move her muscles as she cleaned off Meg’s car blanketed in snow. She watched her breath come out in a white puff against the cold as she looked up at Meg’s house from the base of the driveway. The time away had done her good but she was happy to be home, which was suddenly how she thought of Bay West. Even though she hadn’t gone so far as to officially change her address, there was no denying she lived here. She had even started paying rent, and while Meg was reluctant to take it, Tracy had insisted. It made her feel better to contribute, and to her, it was a sign her life was getting back on track. Sure she didn’t have any leads on the job front, but it was a new year and Tracy was thoroughly optimistic.
On her minibreak, Tracy had purposely avoided two phone calls from Betsy, letting them go to voice mail, choosing instead to communicate distantly via text. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Betsy; honestly, the exact opposite was true. It had simply happened that on both occasions, Tracy had already had a few drinks and she didn’t really trust what she might admit about her feelings over the phone to the gorgeous blonde three thousand miles away. Instead she played it safe, texting in the days that followed, offering vague apologies over their inopportune timing. Where Betsy was concerned, Tracy had made some steadfast resolutions. She knew she still had real feelings, and wholeheartedly believed Betsy had them too, but Tracy was done stopping her life over it. If Betsy couldn’t see they were right for each other—or more likely, was too scared to admit it—that was her loss.
Tracy shook the snow from her shoes as she stepped into the house, wiping her feet diligently on the welcome mat. The snow had given her a fantastic idea: she was going to call Betsy right now and convince her to go sledding down the golf course hills together. She suppressed a grin thinking the feel of her arms around Betsy’s waist might be just the push the good doctor needed to realize what she was missing out on.
As she reached for her phone, it rang in her hands with Betsy’s name and photo appearing on the caller ID.
“I was just going to call you,” Tracy said smoothly into the speaker.
“Hi.”
Betsy’s voice was a higher pitch than usual and Tracy was sure it was from surprise that she’d answered on the first ring.
Tracy didn’t miss a beat. “Want to go sledding with me?”
“Are you back in New York?”
“Yeah. I just got to Meg’s a few minutes ago.”
“How was Christmas?
“Good. Yours?”
“It was nice.” Betsy hesitated a little, like there was more she wanted to say, but then didn’t.
“So did you deliver the Baby New Year?” Tracy asked, peeling a clementine as she held the phone between her cheek and her shoulder.
“No.” Betsy laughed sweetly at the comment. “I did work, but it was actually really quiet,” she added, sounding a touch nervous as she spoke. “What about you?”
“I was at my mom’s in Long Island. Originally we were going to go out to dinner, but with the weather, we just stayed in. Mom cooked, we played cards, I watched a movie with my sister and her boyfriend. Pretty tame stuff. I was in bed by twelve thirty.”
“Oh.”
She heard unmistakable relief in Betsy’s tone and it gave her the encouragement she needed. “So what do you say, feel like hitting the Staten Island slopes?”
“Actually,” Betsy started, “I was calling because, well, I was wondering, if you didn’t already have plans,” she continued, sounding nervous as hell, “I wanted to invite you here, to my house. For dinner.”
Tracy chewed her orange slice quickly. “Okay.”
“My mom and my brother and his girlfriend will be here too. I should mention that. New Year’s Day dinner is kind of a family tradition for us.” She was silent for a second. “I would really like it if you were here,” she finished.
“Sure,” Tracy said, wondering if Betsy could hear her smile through the phone.
Tracy took her time showering and shaved everywhere, even though there was no real reason to think anything would be different today than it had been before. No reason, except Betsy’s obvious nerves, and the slight lilt in her voice when she spoke, and the fact she had invited her to a family event. Tracy picked her clothes meticulously, going with dark cords and an antiqued button-down that she left untucked with the three top buttons open, showing off her California c
olor. She selected a bottle of wine from Meg’s meager collection and shot her roomie a text briefing her on her plans, adding a smiley face at the mention of borrowing the Ford sitting in the driveway. Meg responded immediately, confirming she was still at the Cape and didn’t expect to be home until much later in the evening. Tracy laughed out loud at Meg’s lascivious remarks that followed, which were punctuated with several enthusiastic and symbolically graphic emoji.
*
Tracy rang the front doorbell and was relieved when it was Betsy who answered. In the doorway they exchanged a warm hug that was longer than necessary and Betsy held on to her tightly, breathing slightly in her ear.
“Hi,” Betsy whispered, pulling back and allowing their eyes to make contact for the first time in weeks.
Tracy just smiled, feeling her heart bottom out at the immediate realization this was going to be way harder than she’d bargained for.
Betsy guided her into the living room, oddly still holding on to her hand. She introduced Tracy to her mother and to her brother James and Felicia, his fiancée. They were nice people, like Betsy, and Tracy couldn’t help but smile every single time they referred to Betsy as Jen or Jennifer, naturally, since that was her name, and of course with the exception of herself and Felicia, they were all Betsys.
Over pasta bolognese and cabernet, they asked about her family, California, her job hunt. James was totally bummed she’d quit golf and made her promise to hit the links with him in the spring anyway. All throughout the evening, Betsy touched on Tracy lightly, casually—a hand on her thigh during dinner, a slight shoulder squeeze when she got up to fetch another bottle of red.
Tracy loved every second of the affections bestowed on her, even if she was completely confused about what it meant. So when James and Felicia got up to leave, Tracy took her cue.
“I should get going too.” She stood and pushed the chair in, approaching Betsy’s mom to thank her for a lovely dinner.
“Nonsense,” Betsy’s mom said, swatting her arm lightly. “There’s still half a bottle of wine left.” She looked between Tracy and her daughter. “You girls take it downstairs and finish it off.” She walked into the kitchen with the dessert dishes. “Shame for it to go to waste.”
Betsy blushed at her mother’s overt meddling, but she raised her eyebrows hopefully just the same. “What do you say, Trace? One more drink?” she asked, biting her lip a little as she waited for an answer.
Tracy nodded her response and followed Betsy downstairs to the modest apartment located there. She was dying to ask Betsy what the heck was going on, but equally she wanted to ask no questions, follow the momentum, and let the night lead them right into Betsy’s bedroom. She took a seat on the couch while Betsy poured their drinks, taking in the nuances of Betsy’s digs which were entirely different than upstairs. Where her mother’s space was somewhat dated with its worn rugs and proudly displayed photos of her children—Betsy in her military uniform, James at his college graduation—Betsy’s place was updated, her walls covered in artistic photos, fields and deserts, the beach at sunset. The images were serious and serene and unbelievably breathtaking, like Betsy herself.
Betsy handed over a glass of wine and took a seat facing Tracy at the opposite end of the couch. Tracy was just about to ask what exactly was happening between them, but Betsy spoke first.
“How was the charity ball?” she asked quickly.
“Fine.”
“And Jezebel?” Betsy asked sharply, her voice taking on a chilly tone.
Tracy shook her head and frowned. “Didn’t see her.” She took a sip of her wine. “That’s not true. I did see her from afar. I didn’t talk to her though.” Tracy placed her wine on a coaster. “I made my appearance then skipped out with a few of my friends.”
“How come?” Betsy was obviously surprised and she stumbled over her words. “I mean how come you didn’t talk to her?”
Tracy leaned back, her arm stretched across the back of the couch, as she looked at Betsy. “I told you. I have no interest in talking to her.”
“I called you,” Betsy said. “That night. I called you and you didn’t answer.”
“I know.”
“I thought when I didn’t hear from you, I thought maybe you were with her.” Betsy’s voice was adorably desperate, and it made Tracy’s heart pound.
Tracy looked her right in the eye. “I wasn’t.” She took another drink hoping the small action might break the tension. “I texted you back the next day.”
“It was two days later,” Betsy corrected.
She took another small sip before speaking. “Look, Bets, I was in no condition to talk to you that night.” She shifted her body and leaned forward, smoothing the fabric of her pants. “I didn’t know what you wanted. I still don’t.” She shook her head. “I mean, I think I do, but honestly, I don’t even know what this is right now.” Tracy looked over at Betsy. “Don’t misunderstand me.” She reached over and touched Betsy’s forearm. “Bets, honey”—she shook her head—“I love that you invited me here and you spent half the night with your hand on my leg and obviously your family thinks there’s something going on between us.” She kept her voice calm, even though her heart was racing. “But if this is just some kind of test to make sure I’m still into you, I’m going to make it easy.” She covered Betsy’s hand with her own. “I am,” she said, removing it just as quickly. “Having said that, I’m not going to wait around forever.”
Betsy got up and walked across to the window that looked out onto the street. “You left the Christmas party at Bay West without so much as saying good-bye. Then you went to California. I drove by Meg’s every day hoping to bump into you until Jesse broke it to me that you were gone.” She turned around and leaned against the frame of the window. “You didn’t return my calls. I thought you were still mad at me over the Gala. I thought you went back to Jezebel. I thought a million crazy things.” She wiped at a tear forming in the corner of her eye.
Tracy looked down at her boots. “I was never mad at you over the Gala.” A slight laugh slipped out. “Frustrated, maybe. Not mad.” She stood up and closed the distance between them. She gently but possessively put her hands on Betsy’s hips and stared into her eyes. “Betsy, I’m in love with you.” She smiled slow and sexy. “I think you’re maybe a little bit in love with me too.”
“Tracy, I am so scared.”
“Don’t be.” Tracy moved Betsy’s hair away and kissed her cheek softly. She looked right into the gorgeous eyes that had hooked her from minute one. “I am going to be so good to you.”
She framed Betsy’s face with her hands and kissed from her hairline down to her collarbone, slowly, savoring each second. There was no rush, even after the months of anticipation, and Tracy took her time.
She felt Betsy’s hands in her hair, down her back, along her bottom pulling her in close. Between Tracy’s gentle touches, Betsy asked quietly, “What if it doesn’t work?”
“It’s going to work,” Tracy said covering her face in baby kisses.
“I’m nervous.” Betsy held Tracy’s face directly in front of her. “Aren’t you nervous?”
Tracy’s confidence emerged on a smile. “Not even a little.”
When Tracy kissed her, finally, in front of the big bay window, Betsy felt it in every part of her being. Tracy’s touch was sweet and passionate and so unbelievably genuine, all her fear dissipated. She kissed her back, only stopping when she heard herself moan into Tracy’s mouth. She pulled back and touched her forehead to Tracy’s, smiling a little as she took her hand and led them to her bedroom.
In the dark Betsy let her guard down and allowed herself to indulge in the moment she had fantasized about for months. She raised her arms as Tracy lifted her shirt over her head, and then rested them on Tracy’s shoulders as Tracy slipped off her pants. She could only focus on Tracy’s fingertips caressing her abdomen, moving over the tops of her breasts, stroking them gently before she unhooked her bra.
“Betsy,” Tr
acy breathed in her ear, brushing her lips along the side of her face. She didn’t say anything else, simply repeating her name again over and over. Her voice was low and soft and filled with desire. Betsy melted.
Tracy continued kissing her neck and her chest, finally teasing her breast into her mouth, and Betsy almost lost it at the touch of Tracy’s hot tongue on her nipple. Tracy kept one hand on her breast and traced the other down the front of Betsy’s body, inside her underwear. She bit her lip a little and let out a slight moan, enjoying the feel of Tracy’s fingers on her, almost in her. She let Tracy stay there for a minute relishing the sensation before she reached down and pulled Tracy’s hand upward, holding it at the wrist as she brought it to her mouth. Holding Tracy’s eyes with her own, she brushed Tracy’s middle finger across her lips, back and forth, letting her tongue slip out and run the length of Tracy’s finger. Her teeth got in on the action too, toying with Tracy’s fingertip until she brought the whole thing into her mouth, drawing it in and out slowly. Tracy only lasted a few seconds before she withdrew her hand completely, replacing it with her tongue, kissing Betsy possessively as she pressed their bodies together.
“You have way too many clothes on,” Betsy said as she began removing them slowly. First her shirt, then her bra, leading with her mouth in a straight line down Tracy’s unbelievably toned body. Without stopping, she undid Tracy’s pants, holding her hips as she knelt in front of her, grazing open-mouthed over the cotton of Tracy’s boyshorts before sliding them down. She looked up once, making brief eye contact, and then moved forward, putting her mouth directly on Tracy.
Betsy stayed there, luxuriating in the feel of Tracy’s body pressed up against her face, her hands in her hair. She heard her breath catch one second before Tracy pulled her up and kissed her. Her knees hit the back of the bed, and it was only seconds before Tracy was on top of her, slipping off her panties, sliding two fingers deep inside. It had been a while since Betsy had been with anyone, and she hoped Tracy wasn’t put off by how tight she knew she was. She heard Tracy gasp a little and it made her gush. In no time at all they were moving together, the rhythm perfect. Tracy kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, and all the way down, putting Betsy’s legs over her shoulders. Her tongue was warm and soft and gentle at first, until it wasn’t, eventually increasing to match the pace of her fingers, bringing her right to the edge and finally over it.
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