She’d just finished a simple meal of scrambled eggs and toast—sans butter because Trent had “borrowed” it and forgotten to buy some to replace it for the umpteenth time—when he ambled in.
“Look, Trent, can we talk for a sec?” she asked.
“What’s up, Annie?” He dropped onto one of the chairs across the table from her.
Tired and irritated by having to clean up after him, she scowled at him. “Why is it so hard for you to clean up after yourself?”
“I dunno, I just never think about it. What’s the big deal?”
Annie took a deep breath. Cool and calm. Flying off the handle at him wasn’t going to help anything. “The big deal is that every time I want to use the kitchen, I have to clean up after you just so I can get to anything.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
Trent turned to go, but the toast crumbs on her plate reminded her of another issue. “I would also appreciate it if you would replace the butter sometimes. I’m sick of trying to make toast and finding stuff I bought and paid for gone!”
“You’re never here,” he protested.
“And that makes it okay to take my stuff?”
“No.” He looked a little sheepish. “I just don’t think about it.”
“I thought you were all about healthy eating anyway,” she commented. “Since when are gobs of butter healthy?”
“Oh, well, there’s this thing called bulletproof coffee; you put butter in it, and it’s super healthy for you. It’s supposed to increase alertness and performance at the gym. Plus, it’s—”
“Right, got it,” she cut him off. Trent was always doing some trendy diet thing. She really wasn’t in the mood to sit through an infomercial about it. “But why my butter?”
The sheepish look deepened. “Oh, um, you get the good stuff. The organic, grass-fed fancy stuff that’s so healthy for you. Regular butter doesn’t work the same. Rebecca never buys any butter, and half the time, I forget to go to the store that carries it, sooo, I end up borrowing yours.”
“Ooh.” Annie nodded. That made sense, actually. She’d started buying the imported Irish butter after she got home from her study abroad. She’d gotten a taste for it there, and it had been her one indulgence since. “Look, I get that. Why don’t you just ... I don’t know, give me a little extra money now and then, and I’ll pick some up for you when I shop? Does that seem fair?”
Trent brightened. “Yeah, totally.”
Annie sighed as she stood and carried her dishes over to the sink to wash. “And while we’re at it, a ‘thanks for cleaning up after me’ would be really nice occasionally.” She gestured toward the sparkling kitchen.
He glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, wow, yeah I guess you did clean.”
She scrubbed the pan she’d cooked her eggs in. Does he really not see the mess when it’s right in front of his face? Is that the problem? She had a sudden longing for Siobhán’s tidy little apartment.
“Just ... please try, Trent,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m sick of feeling like I’m the only one who makes any effort around here.”
“Dee cleans,” he protested.
“I know she does, but she’s never home. And why the hell should she clean after working and going to school? She’s working herself to the bone; you’re home at least twice as much as she is, and you do half the work she does around here. Not even that.”
Trent frowned. “Oh, I never thought about it that way.”
Annie rolled her eyes. Trent was twenty-eight years old. She couldn’t believe how completely clueless he was. She’d met his mother a couple times, and it was clear she doted on him. Maybe Trent had never really grown up.
“Just ... try to think about someone other than yourself for once?” Annie said with a sigh as she put her plate in the drain board. “I’d appreciate it, and I’m sure your girlfriend would too!”
Trent nodded. Relieved that maybe she’d gotten through to him, Annie turned and headed for her bedroom.
“So is this why you’re a lesbian now?” he called after her.
Annie opened her mouth to respond and then closed it. She’d thought they were making progress, but apparently not. There was no way she’d even begin to touch that statement. Not without Trent suffering bodily harm. Better to just ignore him.
She firmly closed the door to her bedroom behind her and flopped onto the bed. Without conscious thought, she reached for her phone and brought up Siobhán’s number.
“Miss me already?” Siobhán asked when she answered. She sounded like she was smiling.
“I know I said I wanted to come back to my place tonight, but I think I might end up in jail for murdering my roommate,” Annie blurted out in response.
“Come here then. You know I love when you spend the night.”
She needed no convincing. She hopped up and packed the bags she’d so recently unpacked. Maybe she should think about leaving a few things at Siobhán’s place.
Trent stopped her on the way out the door. “So, um, I was thinking about what you said earlier.”
Annie raised an eyebrow at him. “Which part?”
“All of it, really.” He fished in his pants’ pocket for his wallet, peeling off several twenties before he handed them to her. “There, that should cover some of the back payment for butter. Sorry, that was kinda shitty of me not to think about how expensive it was when I borrowed it, ya’ know?”
“I ... uh, thanks, Trent. That’s really nice of you,” Annie said, feeling astonished as she tucked the cash into her purse.
“Oh, and um, what you said about helping around the apartment. I’ll try to do more.” He shuffled a little awkwardly. “I don’t mean to be a douche about that either. I do cook for Dee though, you know. I prep the meals for both of us so she doesn’t have to eat out all the time. The hospital food is crap.” Annie stared at him, open-mouthed. “So I get why you’re totally annoyed at the mess I leave, but I’m totally sick of being in the kitchen after cooking a week’s worth of meals for Dee and me. I always mean to clean it up in an hour or two, and I end up putting it off.”
“Oh,” Annie said, flabbergasted. “I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
He shrugged. “Nah, you have a good point. You shouldn’t have to clean up my shit just because I’m feeling lazy. How about this? I’ll call the landlord tomorrow about getting the dishwasher fixed. It’s been broken forever, but that would make all our lives a lot easier.”
It had, in fact, been broken since Annie moved in, so she rarely thought about it anymore. And since she wasn’t officially on the lease—she was technically subletting from someone who had moved out a couple years ago—she’d never called the landlord herself.
“Oh, yeah, uh, that would be great,” Annie stuttered. “Thanks, Trent.”
“No prob. I really don’t mean to piss you off, you know. So feel free to call me out when I’m being an ass. I’m just bad at paying attention to shit like that.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I don’t want you to hate me or anything.”
Annie felt the last of her annoyance soften. “It’s okay, Trent. And I didn’t mean to jump down your throat about stuff. I know we’re all trying to live together, and sometimes we just clash. I definitely don’t hate you.”
“Awesome. Glad to hear it.” His expression brightened. “We cool?”
“We’re cool,” Annie assured him.
***
Forty minutes later, Annie knocked on Siobhán’s door. She answered and immediately pulled Annie into her arms. “Are you okay?”
Annie chuckled. “Actually, Trent and I worked out most of our issues, and I’m feeling a lot better about things. I think we actually made some progress, and I’m hopeful the peace lasts.”
“Good. But you never need to ask if you can come over,” she murmured against Annie’s hair. “You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you.” Annie smiled at her. “I know that, but
I still somehow feel like I’m intruding.”
“Don’t be silly.” Siobhán tugged her inside, then shut and locked the door after her. She turned to the little table beside the door and opened one of the drawers.
She was dressed casually in a silky, long white robe with a pattern of what looked like peonies and butterflies in rich peach, copper, and green shades. It skimmed over her curves, and Annie felt her mouth water at the sight.
She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder as Siobhán rummaged through the drawer. “Here.” She turned back to face Annie and smiled. “Your own key. Now you can come and go as you please.”
“I don’t know, Siobhán,” Annie said a little hesitantly. But she held out her hand and let Siobhán drop it into her palm anyway.
“You don’t have to be so fecking independent, Annie!” Siobhán snapped, her dark eyes flashing. She gently folded Annie’s fingers, trapping the key against her palm as she wrapped her own hand around it. She softened her tone. “You can allow someone to help you out now and again, you know?”
“I know.” Annie smiled tremulously. “And I appreciate it, Siobhán, I really do.”
“But you’re so stubborn you’ll cut your nose off to spite your face?”
“No.” Annie leaned forward and pressed her lips against Siobhán’s. “You’re right. And I appreciate the key.”
Siobhán tucked her arm into Annie’s and guided her toward the bedroom. “You know what my favorite thought is?”
“Me in bed?”
Siobhán laughed. “That too. But I was thinking about coming home after a tedious meeting at the gallery and finding you reading on the couch, or typing on your laptop, or soaking in the tub. Making yourself at home here.”
“That sounds really nice,” Annie admitted. She dropped her bag on the floor near Siobhán’s bed.
Siobhán beamed. “Then please, use the key. Surprise me one of these days.”
“I’ll do that,” Annie agreed.
“Now what was it you were saying about being in my bed?” Siobhán asked.
Annie unknotted the tie of Siobhán’s robe as she kissed her and let her actions speak for themselves.
***
Later that night, as Annie was drifting off to sleep, Siobhán propped herself up on one elbow. “I want to suggest something, but promise you’ll listen before you dismiss it.”
Annie blinked sleepily at her. “Why does that make me nervous?”
Siobhán didn’t reply. Instead, she brushed Annie’s hair off her face. “Earlier, I gave you the key, but what I really wanted to say was something else.”
Annie felt butterflies in her stomach. “What was that?”
“Move in with me, mo grá.”
Annie melted a little. She’d picked up a smattering of Irish during the semester she studied there, and she knew enough to recognize that Siobhán had called her “my love.” But moving in ... that was huge.
“Siobhán ... I don’t know.”
“I know we’re moving quickly, but I love you, Annie. And you said it yourself; your roommates are insufferable half the time, and you’re sick of dealing with them. Think how much nicer it would be if you lived here.”
“I love you too, Siobhán,” she said softly, thrilled to finally voice the words that had been hanging on the tip of her tongue for several weeks now. “But that’s a huge step. I don’t want to move in just because my roommate’s an asshole.”
Siobhán sighed. “I’m asking you to move in because I want you to be a part of my life. You’re my muse, my love. You make my apartment feel like home. I want you here when I wake up in the mornings, and I want to paint to the sound of your keys clacking behind me.”
“I want those things too. I’m just not sure I’m ready yet. Give me some time to think about it?” She’d rushed into relationships before only to find herself without a place to live or scrambling to find new roommates. She couldn’t afford to be hasty. Her life was such a mess right now, and until she felt better about her career, she couldn’t jump into something like that.
Siobhán made a face but nodded.
Annie kissed her apologetically, but Siobhán kept it brief. Rather than deepening it, she rolled over and turned out the light.
Annie stayed awake for a long while after Siobhán fell asleep, staring up at the dark ceiling while thoughts swirled through her brain.
She wanted to do what was best for both her and Siobhán, and their relationship, but she was afraid she’d just inadvertently pushed away the only person who’d been her champion in a long time. What if she’d made a mistake?
She finally fell asleep to the sound of Siobhán’s even, steady breathing.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, their discussion the previous night seemed forgotten, and Annie was relieved to see that Siobhán had returned to her normal self. They fixed breakfast together and ate eggs, toast, and fresh fruit at the little table in Siobhán’s kitchen while Siobhán discussed a few ideas she had for an upcoming painting.
Siobhán ate the last bite of toast and blackberry jam. “What about you?” she asked. “Have you considered the blog idea more?”
“I have, actually,” Annie admitted. “And the idea is growing on me. I started to second-guess myself, but I thought more about it, and I think before I decide on anything, I’ll do some research about starting a blog and make sure there isn’t already one about Boston travel or attractions. See how viable an idea it is, anyway.”
“Brilliant.” Siobhán smiled at her. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thanks.” Annie pushed her empty plate out of the way and gave Siobhán a brief kiss. “I appreciate that.”
“Ready to get started then?”
“I am. What about you?”
Siobhán nodded. “I’m feeling the urge to paint. If I get too lost in it, remind me to come up for air occasionally, will you?”
Annie chuckled and stood. “I’ll do my best.”
Together, they cleared the table, washed the few dishes, and headed to the living room with fresh mugs of tea. Siobhán squirted paint onto the piece of acrylic she used as a palette and lined up a few paintbrushes on the table beside it.
Siobhán had finished the previous work and shown it to Annie. To Annie’s astonishment, it was a painting of their first meeting, an abstract suggestion of two women standing side by side, staring at a swirl of bright colors.
It was breathtaking. She couldn’t wait to see it hanging in the Quinn gallery at Siobhán’s next show.
“I love the possibilities a fresh canvas offers,” Siobhán said with a happy sigh.
“Ugh, I’m the opposite,” Annie admitted. “Well, I find blank Word documents intimidating anyway. Sometimes, I’ll just type some gibberish so I don’t see all the blank, white space mocking me.”
“Oh, sometimes if my creativity is running low, I’ll just slap paint on a canvas with no idea what direction I’m going. It can help jumpstart things.” She peered around the canvas at Annie who was setting up her laptop across the room. Siobhán beamed at her. “But I don’t have to worry about that with you around, do I?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “You aren’t really serious about that, are you?”
“About you inspiring me? Of course, I am, Annie. I mean every word of it. My feelings for you bubble up, and it spills out onto my canvas. Our relationship feeds my creativity. You saw the last piece I did; how can you doubt that?”
Flabbergasted, all Annie could do was stare at her for a moment. “You really mean it then? Calling me your muse?”
“Of course, I do.” Siobhán stood and crossed the room to her “I meant every word of it. You make me feel so gloriously alive and creative, Annie. Like nothing can stop me.”
Annie swallowed hard. “You make me feel that way too. I was so dull and dead for a while, and you blew my life wide open. To think, if I hadn’t gone to the gallery that night ...”
Siobhán cupped Annie’s cheek i
n her hand. “But you did.” She kissed Annie sweetly with all the pent up passion she seemed to carry with her all the time.
Annie let out a gasp and kissed her back, thanking her lucky stars she’d met Siobhán that night. If she hadn’t, her life would have continued on down that dull path she’d been treading. Siobhán’s arrival had sent her tumbling off course into a new and exciting direction.
Siobhán pulled back with a reluctant sounding sigh. “I suppose we should work. I’d rather tear your clothes off and make you come though.”
“Trust me, I’d rather do that too,” Annie said with a wry smile. “But I suppose we’ll have to be a little more disciplined since neither of us have nine to five jobs to go off to every day. Or we’ll get nothing done but each other.”
“That sounds much nicer to me,” Siobhán muttered, but she blew Annie a little kiss as she crossed the room to her easel.
“I wouldn’t be much of a muse if I let you slack off,” Annie pointed out as she dragged her computer onto her lap. She liked working with Siobhán like this. Both of them in the same room, focused on their own projects.
“I’m not sure I wanted one that was such a taskmaster,” Siobhán teased. “But I suppose you’re right.”
They were both silent for a while as Annie began her work.
She searched for Boston area blogs and came up with an extensive list. She skimmed through the descriptions, finding that most were parenting blogs or design and foodie blogs. A couple were music blogs, and one had local news. She even found a few specifically about art. But the ones that seemed to have more of a travel or event theme were old and hadn’t been updated in a year or two.
It seemed that Siobhán’s idea was feasible at least. That was something. It sent a burst of energy through Annie, and she decided her next step should probably be to make a list of places in Boston to feature on the blog. Maybe a few she’d been to before and might only need to stop by long enough to get some decent photos. She could sprinkle in a few new places too. She could also do a list of attractions accessible via public transportation, which would be a big draw for people like Annie and Siobhán who didn’t own a car. Maybe she could also do a series of posts about free attractions in Boston.
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