Annie checked her email and was disappointed to find no new freelance opportunities. She checked her bank balance, which only made her more depressed. She’d just gotten home, intending to be productive, and now all she wanted to do was leave. Or crawl under the covers and pretend like her life wasn’t a pathetic mess.
Determined to shake herself out of the funk she was in, Annie forced herself to do some work. She spent a while reading articles on freelancing tips. Then searched for new sites to find jobs on. She cleaned out her email inbox and spent a while wandering social media and liking all of the exciting things her friends and acquaintances were up to. Her own posts were usually quite boring. Mostly funny memes and the occasional news article.
Annie laughed to herself as she thought about posting about meeting Siobhán Murray the artist and going to bed with her. Now that would get some reactions. Annie found herself searching for Siobhán and quickly located her artist page and what appeared to be a more personal profile. It was filled with interactions with people, information about her shows and current projects, and—worst of all—Siobhán posing in pictures with several beautiful women. Annie couldn’t help the sense of relief when she saw that none of the pictures were terribly recent.
She groaned and closed out of the site before she made herself even crazier than she already was. She closed her laptop lid, got comfy on the bed, and turned on the TV. She flipped through TV channels, briefly pausing on a home décor show, but it didn’t hold her interest, and she found herself getting distracted.
Hunger finally drove her out of her room.
Thankfully, her roommates had vacated the kitchen. Unfortunately, they hadn’t cleaned up after themselves. Annie doubted any cleaning had been done since she left on Friday. In fact, she was sure there was a pile of dishes on the counter that had been in the exact same position for days.
Rebecca only ate microwaved freezer meals—usually the low fat, low sodium type that tasted like cardboard to Annie—and Dee was never home long enough to eat, so the kitchen should have stayed neat enough. Annie always cleaned up after herself. But Rebecca left dirty forks everywhere, along with a trashcan constantly overflowing with the boxes and trays from her meals.
Trent was the biggest culprit though. He was always blending protein shakes and prepping healthy food for the week, which would have been fine if he didn’t put off washing his dishes as long as possible. It was why there was a sink and countertop full of them. And a weird smell in the air.
Annie grimaced and pulled heavy rubber gloves on. She gingerly piled Trent’s dishes in one basin of the sink before she pulled out the bleach spray. She nearly choked on the fumes, and her eyes watered as she scrubbed the remnants clinging to the sides and bottom. But it was better than gagging at the smell of spoiled food.
She rinsed the sink and her gloves thoroughly before washing the pan she needed. It took a while to scrape the bits of baked on food from the bottom, and by the time she finally did, she was grumpy and no longer motivated to cook dinner.
She rinsed out the pan, set it in the drainer to dry, and stripped off the gloves, glad to have the disgusting job done.
In deference to her rumbling stomach, she heated a can of soup and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and called it good.
When she returned to her bedroom, she noticed a light on her phone flashing with a notification.
She put her food on the nightstand and picked up her phone, torn between hope it was from Siobhán and anxiety that it would just be a text reminder to pick up her birth control prescription. She smiled when she saw it was a message from Siobhán.
Hey, beautiful the text read.
Annie smiled. Hey, yourself. Sorry, I was making dinner and cleaning up.
How was your day? came the prompt reply.
I probably should have just stayed at your place, Annie admitted, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone. My roommates are jackasses, my bedroom is tiny, and you weren’t in it.
That’s your first lesson in dating Siobhán Murray. I am always right about such things.
Should I keep that in mind for the future? Annie replied.
Absolutely, was the swift response.
Annie’s heart soared when she realized this was definitely not the end of things with Siobhán.
It seemed her fears had been totally unfounded.
Siobhán sent her another message, and they texted back and forth for a while as Annie ate her dinner.
In fact, they texted all evening until Annie could hardly keep her eyes open. Eventually, she sleepily typed goodnight to Siobhán and muted her phone.
She flipped on her side and hugged a pillow close as she thought about the date she had with Siobhán the following Tuesday night.
She fell asleep thinking about Siobhán’s long dark hair, soft lips, and the murmur of an Irish accent in her ear.
Chapter Five
July
Annie fussed with her hair in the mirror by the door before straightening with a sigh. It would have to do.
“I told you, you look fine.” Rebecca rolled her eyes, but her tone was surprisingly kind. Annie had come to her in desperation a little earlier, asking for help with her outfit. Annie had expected Rebecca to blow her off, but she’d been rather sweet and helpful. She’d even loaned Annie a necklace.
“Says the woman who owns more styling products than the salon she works at and spends more time getting ready to go to the gym than I spend getting ready for my date?” Annie teased.
“That means you should listen to me. I obviously know what I’m talking about. Which is obviously why you came to me in the first place.” Rebecca’s tone was lofty, but she offered Annie a smile. “Come here.”
She fluffed the hair at Annie’s scalp, then tweaked the curls a little. “There.”
Annie glanced in the mirror again. “Thanks. That is better.”
“Told you.” Rebecca’s tone was smug. “Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Is it a date with Shi—ugh, whatever your girlfriend’s name is?”
“Siobhán. Yes.” Girlfriend was debatable since they hadn’t actually officially discussed the exclusivity or labels things yet, but there was no point in correcting Rebecca’s assumption.
“Things are going well, huh?”
“Yeah, they are.” Annie smiled. “I’ve been really happy.”
“I can tell.” Rebecca smiled back at her. “I still don’t get the whole occasional lesbian thing, but whatever.”
Annie took a deep breath and bit back an instinctive retort, wanting to keep things civil. “Thanks for the help with my hair, Rebecca. Have a good night.”
“You too. Or, however long you’re there!”
“Thanks.”
It’s true, Annie thought as she closed the door behind her. And I really can’t get too mad at Rebecca for teasing me about it. I have been spending a lot of time at Siobhán’s in the past couple weeks, and I only come home every few days.
She hadn’t bothered to invite Siobhán to her place. Siobhán’s apartment was cleaner, quieter, and—most importantly—private.
Things with Siobhán had been going incredibly well. Over the past two weeks, she and Siobhán had spent a good chunk of time discovering the city. Annie was a bit of a history buff, and Siobhán hadn’t spent much time exploring early American history, so they’d been doing it together. They’d spent an afternoon walking the Freedom Trail that ran from Boston Common to the bridge in Charleston, with the USS Constitution and the Bunker Hill Monument, and passed sixteen of the city’s historic monuments and sights.
They’d also spent an evening at Faneuil Hall—a city market hall from the 1700s—wandering the shops, restaurants, and exhibitions there.
After that, they’d gone to a restaurant that Siobhán claimed served the best fish and chips on this side of the Atlantic. Annie was inclined to agree.
They’d talked about going to Boston Common to see the swan boats and walk thro
ugh the park. And planned a day at the Harvard Art Museum, along with the other museums scattered throughout Boston.
They’d spent most of those nights together as well, and they certainly hadn’t grown bored with their time in bed together. Siobhán was a creative and enthusiastic lover, and Annie had never felt so satisfied.
She was falling hard and fast for Siobhán, but she hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask Siobhán if she was feeling the same way.
Annie glanced at her phone when she reached the street, relieved to see that the Lyft car she’d splurged on to save her a mile walk in heels would be there any moment. She arrived at a bistro near the Navy Yard just as Siobhán strolled up.
“Hello, beautiful.” Siobhán greeted her with a kiss, either completely unaware or unconcerned about the people around them who might be watching.
“Hey,” Annie smiled at her. Siobhán looked stylish and comfortable in a sleek navy sheath dress, nude heels, an emerald green belt, and a colorful scarf. Annie had cobbled together an appropriate outfit from a black skirt she’d worn to a wedding a few years back, the white button-down shirt she’d worn to several interviews, and the statement necklace Rebecca had loaned her. But Annie was envious of Siobhán’s effortlessly chic look.
“Are you ready to go in?” Siobhán asked. “I made a reservation.”
“Absolutely. I’m starved.”
Siobhán led the way inside and checked in with the hostess. “Two. Under the name of Siobhán Murray.
“I have a ‘See-o-ban Murray listed,” the woman said brightly. “Is that it?”
Siobhán sigh heavily. “That’s me. It’s an unusual spelling.”
A waitress led them out to a shaded table on the patio, introduced herself, and took their orders for wine and water.
“This is what I get for making reservations online,” Siobhán said drily when she was gone. “You’d think I’d learn.”
“Has it been a huge hassle since you moved here?” Annie asked. “To the US, I mean.”
Siobhán shrugged. “It’s occasionally tiring, but there are a lot of Irish ex-pats and Irish-Americans here in Boston. It’s better than it would be in Kansas.” She exchanged a smile with Annie. “Besides, I keep at it with the ones who aren’t familiar with it. I taught my name to a whole class once. I took a few courses shortly after I got here, and we had guest artists come in and teach occasionally. One of them butchered my name, and in unison the whole class spoke up and said, ‘It’s Shi-vonn’.”
Annie’s laugh was loud and genuine, and for the first time all day, she found herself relaxing. She’d spent the day stressing about money and her future, and it was a relief to let it all go and just enjoy being with Siobhán.
The waitress returned with their drinks, and Siobhán leaned in when she left. “Anyway, that’s enough of my prattling on about my name. How are you?”
“Better now that I’m here,” Annie admitted. Siobhán reached out to touch her hand. “How’s your week going?”
Siobhán shrugged. “Pretty well. I’m making great progress on the piece I was working on. Gabriel’s ecstatic about the way the collection seems to be coming together, and, frankly, so am I.” She took a sip of her wine. “How about you? How’s your work going?”
“I’m trying to drum up some more freelance jobs but not having a lot of luck. Things seem to be drying up.”
Siobhán frowned. “We could have rescheduled if you needed to spend some more time on that.”
“Thanks. Honestly, though, I was glad to get out,” Annie admitted. “I was feeling stir-crazy, which leaves me with no patience for dealing with my roommates.”
“How’d you end up living with them anyway?”
Annie shrugged. “The usual, I guess. No money, high rent prices.”
“Boston, Dublin, they’re all the same when it comes to finding a place to live,” Siobhán said with a rueful sigh. “Still, it beats living in a place in the middle of nowhere. Cheap, but nothing to do and no one to do it with.”
“Right? I grew up in Concord, and I’ve thought about moving back out into the suburbs but the thought depresses me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, in this case, I was in a relationship with this guy Mark. He made good money working for some tech company, so we lived here in the North End. I liked the area, but after we broke up, the only way I could afford it was to sublet a room in an apartment with a few other people. There was an ad on Craigslist, and the place was decent enough for the price.”
“Should I be worried about you when you’re there?” Siobhán said with a frown.
“No. They’re not terrible,” Annie admitted. “I mean, I feel safe there, and they don’t break my things, unlike one of my roommates from college. Trent ‘borrows’”—Annie made finger quotes—“my butter all the time, and I’m always turning up short when I go to make toast, but it’s not that serious. They get on my nerves, but I can live with it. Pun not intended.”
Siobhán grimaced. “Still. It’s kind of miserable.”
“It really is,” Annie agreed. She took a sip of her water and glanced down at her menu. “I suppose we should figure out our order.”
“Yes,” Siobhán said with a soft laugh. “It seems I get so wrapped up in you that I lose track of everything else.”
Annie smiled. Siobhán certainly wasn’t the only one.
A short while later, the waitress returned and took their orders. Over an appetizer of steamed clams, Annie brought up the picture on Siobhán’s fridge.
“That reminds me, I keep meaning to ask where you went clam digging.” Siobhán gave her a quizzical glance. “I assumed that’s what you were doing in the photo in your kitchen anyway.”
“Oh.” Siobhán sighed. “I went with my ex-girlfriend Laura. Her family had a place on the Outer Banks. They were very old money, and the family dug clams when they felt like playing the peasant.” Her tone was scornful.
Annie shrugged. “They couldn’t have been all bad if they invited their daughter’s partner to go with them.”
Siobhán took a swig of her wine and frowned. “That’s what I thought. Until I got there and realized they thought Laura and I were roommates. Platonic roommates. They had no idea we’d been living together—in sin—for the better part of two years. And she certainly did nothing to inform them otherwise.”
Annie winced. “If it was so terrible, why do you keep the photo on your refrigerator?”
She smiled grimly and dug the clam meat out of the shell with a vicious stab of her seafood fork. “I enjoyed the clam digging. And it’s a reminder to myself about what I want to stay away from.”
“Women with conservative families?” Annie asked. She dipped a piece of sourdough bread into the garlicky wine broth the clams had been steamed in.
“Self-loathing lesbians who pretend they’re bisexual to appease their own guilt about letting down the family.”
Annie winced. Siobhán reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry, Annie. I know you’re not that type of person, but you must admit, there are plenty of women out there like that.”
“Some, yes,” Annie agreed. “But I think painting us all with the same broad brush does more damage than good.”
Siobhán sighed. “You’re probably right. But there’s only so many times I can get my heart broken before I flinch when a woman says she’s bi.”
“Not all bi women are like Laura,” Annie argued.
“I know that, Annie. But she’s hardly the only one. And she took a very long time to get over. We fought on that vacation with her family. I came home, someone came to collect Laura’s things, and I never saw her again. Except in the newspaper when they announced her engagement to the man of her dreams.” Siobhán expression turned sour. “The last I heard, they were living in a huge place in Back Bay with a couple of children, and her husband was well on his way toward a political career.”
Annie winced. “I’m sorry, Siobhán. I can’t imagine how painful that must have been.”
She offer
ed Annie a wan smile. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve thought about doing a tell-all book and selling the paintings I did of Laura and I together to the highest bidder. It would be such perfect revenge, and do you know what it would do for my sales?” Siobhán sighed. “But I could never live with myself.”
Annie took Siobhán’s hand. “I understand the urge though.”
“Anyway.” Siobhán picked up her fork to attack the clams again. “That’s ancient history.”
Is it though? Annie wondered. Somehow, she wasn’t so sure.
They finished their appetizer in silence. It grew oppressive after the waitress cleared away their dishes. Uncomfortable and unsure what to say, Annie looked out over the patio. It was shady, and the wind coming off the water was a fresh, salty breeze that stirred the humid summer air. If only the tension would dissipate so easily. She glanced back at Siobhán, who sat across the table from her, frowning.
“Annie, I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Annie said gently. “We can talk more later. This isn’t really the time or place.”
Siobhán nodded.
A few moments later, the waitress returned with the entrees, and Annie felt a sense of relief. Food occupied them for a few minutes as they tucked into their meals.
“How’s your roasted mushroom risotto?” Siobhán asked after she’d taken a few bites.
“Delicious,” Annie said. “Your miso cod?”
“Amazing. Thanks.”
They managed to find less contentious topics as they finished their lunch, but after, they hit another small bump.
The waitress left the bill on the table after they’d declined dessert, and Annie opened her purse to get her wallet.
“Oh, I’ve got it,” Siobhán said as she reached for it.
“Are you sure?” Annie asked.
“Of course.” Siobhán smiled at her. “The gallery show went well, and things are moving forward with the commissioned work. Let me treat you.”
“You’ve been paying for almost everything in the past few weeks,” Annie argued.
Siobhán leaned forward and touched her hand. “I appreciate the gesture, Annie, but I know you’re not in the best place with your career now and I am. What harm does it cause for me to treat you?”
A Brighter Palette Page 5