Three if by Sea: MMF Bisexual Romance

by Nicole Stewart

  Amelia sighed. He’d summed it up well and she felt an ache in the pit of her stomach. “I want it to be different, Adam, I do.” She looked at him, willing him to turn around from the sink, but he didn’t. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she said softly. “We’re two very different people. We’ve lived totally different lives. We want different things.”

  “You have no idea what I want,” Adam said. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, and she bit her lip.

  “Then why don’t you tell me,” Amelia said, frustration leaking into her words. “Other than the basic story of the farm and the data you gave me, I know almost nothing about your life! I don’t know why you’ve chosen to stay on the farm, or if you even really want to be here, if this was always your dream, or if you have other ones. I don’t really know you, Adam, so of course I think that this can’t work. To be honest, I thought we had agreed not to even bring these things up.”

  Adam had stopped washing the dishes, and was leaning against the sink, looking away from her. Eventually turned to face Amelia, his face drawn. “I suppose if we were going to try to have a relationship I would need to tell you all about myself but we are not, so we just have to enjoy the now. That was what we agreed so that’s what we’ll do.” He walked over to her, and dropped a soft kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll enjoy the now, and you’ll go home, and this will all be a lovely memory.” He rested his hand on her shoulder for a minute, and then he walked out of the room, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards as he walked down the hall to the bedroom.

  So like Christmas night, Amelia thought, him retreating to the bedroom and leaving her alone. He seemed to be a man of intense emotions. It was attractive, she had to admit, in a romance-novel sort of way. It was likely what made the sex so good.

  She knew that she had fallen for him. The way her heart leapt a little when she heard his footsteps in the house told her that much. Her skin tingled whenever she thought about him touching her was another big clue. The aching pit that opened up in her stomach whenever she thought about the day when she’d leave Scotland left her feeling flat and alone. This was new territory for her.

  She told herself that the sense of loss would fade over time. That she was feeling this way because of the novelty and adventure represented by this handsome stranger in a strange country. Working with him on the farm, dealing with the hardships that were a part of that life, far away from the familiar, would surely kill any spark of romance?

  She got up and walked to the bedroom. Adam was standing at the window looking out at the high drifts of snow. “I’m sorry,” he said without turning around. “I shouldn’t have suggested that you should stay. It was foolish of me.”

  Amelia bit her lip and walked towards him. She wanted to touch him, but she stopped a few inches away. “This just isn’t the life I’ve been working towards, Adam.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.” He didn’t turn around, and they stood there in silence.

  Chapter 16

  Three days later, the snow had melted enough for her to leave. Neither of them returned to the conversation about their lack of a future together. She’d trekked out to the stables with him during the day, and volunteered her help with the horses and sheep. When they’d worked side by side, she’d felt Adam’s eyes on her, and she’d wondered what he was thinking. Was he coming to agree with her that this was not the life she was cut out for? Or was he thinking the exact opposite?

  She wasn’t sure why she was turning those thoughts over and over in her head, worrying at them like an unscratched itch. She’d said clearly that this wasn’t what she wanted so why did she want Adam to disagree with her so much?

  She’d lost track of the number of times they’d had sex, falling into bed sometimes when they came in from the barn, shedding layers of clothes across the floor, the cool air of the room welcome after working so hard. Or she’d slide into bed next to him at night, her hair damp from the shower, and he’d roll over, pinning her to the bed, his knee slowly sliding her legs apart, his hips settling down on hers. One of them would wake in the night, the creaking sounds of the house stirring them from sleep, and a touch would turn into more. Or she’d wake to find Adam disappeared beneath the covers, his tongue drawing slow patterns over her flesh. Every time they’d almost started to talk again, they’d stop it with sex. It was as if neither one of them wanted to damage the fragile limbo that they existed in.

  The day that the snow finally cleared enough for Adam to drive her home, they didn’t talk about the future either. She did try to bring it up over breakfast, but Adam only nodded. “Best not to leave the cottage empty too long,” was all he said. “I can come help clear away some of the snow and restock the woodpile if you like, check for cracked pipes and all of that.”

  “I think I can manage,” Amelia said. “I am from the Midwest after all, I know my way around an old house.”

  Adam had smiled at her, and there’d been no other conversation besides small talk—no mention of what they were to each other, or where it might be going, or when they would see each other again. It was entirely possible, Amelia thought, staring out of the foggy window at the fields as they bumped over the road to her cottage, that this might be the last time that they see each other outside of the Moose and Thistle.

  As soon as they arrived at the cottage, he insisted on chopping some more wood for her. Amelia watched him from the kitchen window as she made sandwiches for them, struck again by the domesticity of it all, how natural it felt to go through the motions.

  After lunch, he remained at the table for a moment as Amelia put the dishes in the sink, drumming his fingers against the wood.

  “I should probably get going,” he said finally, a note of reluctance in his voice.

  Amelia bit her lip, but she nodded. She felt a sharp ache at the thought of him walking out, at the idea that their relationship was likely at an end. She nodded again, trying desperately to think of something to say.

  Adam stood up and walked to her side, touching her chin gently. “I’ll see you again, yeah? Promise.”

  “I thought you said no promises?” Amelia managed a weak smile.

  “Aye, well, I suppose one more won’t hurt.” He bent and kissed her quickly, his lips brushing across hers, skimming over them as if he knew that if he lingered too long he wouldn’t go at all. He straightened, tapped her chin gently, and smiled. “See you around, lass.” And with that, he turned and walked towards the door.

  Amelia sucked in her breath, her fingers curling around the edge of the sink, and she watched him trudge across the yard to the old blue truck. It growled noisily as he started it up, and she watched it go down the road and disappear over the hill.

  With a sigh, she left the sink, grabbing her laptop out of the bag and walking into the living room. Adam has started a fire, and it crackled merrily, an irritating counterpoint to her mood. She tried to start on her data sheets, but she couldn’t focus. All she could think about was Adam—the touch of his hand on her face, his lips on her mouth…and everywhere else they’d been. She needed a distraction.

  Maybe she needed to get away for a few days. Surely the isolation was affecting her. Edinburgh was a bit of a haul—she still shuddered a little when she thought about the taxi, ferry, and bus connections she’d had to make to get to the cottage—but maybe a long weekend in the city was just what she needed. She tapped her nails against the laptop. The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed. She could clear her head, stop thinking about Adam for a few days, and how close he was. Yes, she needed a change of scenery.

  Two days later and halfway to Edinburgh she was wondering if the trip was worth it after all. The bus ride was even more unpleasant than she’d remembered, and by the time she arrived in the city, she wanted nothing more than to get to her hotel and fall into a bed that would hopefully be more comfortable than the one she’d left back at the cottage.

  The hot shower perked her
up, made her feel a hundred times more human. She decided that she was in good enough shape to go out for a drink. Amelia dug the one nice outfit she’d brought out of her bag. She’d felt a little foolish for packing it—what possible use would she have for going-out clothes in the middle of a bunch of fields? Now she was glad she’d packed it. It felt good to be out of the heavy sweaters and flannel that she’d been living in for the past few weeks. The black skinny jeans, silky black tank, and black leather jacket sitting on the bed were just the thing to make her feel like her old self again.

  She did her makeup, slipped on some jewelry, and studied the results in the mirror. The makeup had covered up the red tinge that appeared on her skin from days of being battered by the wind. She smiled at her reflection. Maybe this was a good idea after all.

  She called a taxi, and told the driver to take her to the nearest bar that he could recommend. She felt adventurous, taking off on her own in a new city. She was determined to not think about Adam, to push all the confusion of the last few days out of her head, and just enjoy the experience. Maybe she should have done this sooner, she thought, as she stepped out of the taxi and into the building, weaving her way around drunk rugby players and girls on girly nights' out. She finally made it to the scratched hardwood bar that curved around the back of the room. The bartender, a man with a neatly trimmed black beard and a half-frown, glanced at her. “What’ll you have?”

  “Gin and tonic,” Amelia said. “I don't suppose I can start a tab?”

  “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary,” she heard a familiar voice say behind her. “I’ll buy the lady a drink.”

  Her heart leaping into her throat, Amelia turned around slowly.

  Chapter 17

  Callum just stood there for several seconds, a broad grin on his face. “Whisky for me,” he told the bartender, and turned back to Amelia. “Fancy seeing you here! What are the odds? Wow!”

  “Um, yeah wow,” she managed, still in shock. “What are the odds?” She remembered then that he’d said at their last meeting that he lived in Edinburgh. But he was right, what was the likelihood that they’d end up in the same bar at the same time?

  “I was hoping to see you again, and here you are!” He stepped forward for a hug, and Amelia moved into his arms. The memory of being pressed against the pub door, Callum’s body over hers, leapt to mind, and she shivered. His lips brushed across her cheek, and she felt her skin tingle. “It’s really good to see you again,” she said taking her drink and his from the bartender and handing him his whisky. “Do you have a table?”

  “Yeah, just over here,” he said. “I was waiting on some mates, but they bailed on me. I was just thinking of leaving when I saw you walk in.”

  “Good timing,” Amelia said. Now that the shock was wearing off, she was genuinely glad to see Callum. She hadn’t thought of him much in the last few days, while she was with Adam, but now the memory of the two of them kissing outside of the pub came rushing back, and she was suddenly very happy to be there with him.

  “So what brings you to Edinburgh?” he asked. “You didn’t say you were thinking of coming for a visit.”

  “I just needed a few days away,” Amelia said. “I was getting cabin fever, I guess. There was a big storm, and it’s so isolated there. I suppose I just needed to be around people for a bit again.”

  “My parents told me there was a hell of a storm coming in,” Callum said. “I was thinking of you, hoping you’d be all right, you know, out there all on your own.”

  “Um, yes…I managed,” Amelia said faintly. It seemed inappropriate somehow to tell him that she’d spent the storm waiting it out at Adam’s house. She thought of the nights she’d spent tangled up in Adam’s bed, and flushed at the memory. That was something Callum didn’t need to hear about. “I’m tougher than I look,” she said brightly. “Besides, we do get snow in Chicago.”

  “Chicago?” He raised an eyebrow. “Where is that, exactly?”

  “Bottom of Lake Michigan, the Midwest.” She took a sip of her drink. “Have you ever been? To the U.S., I mean.”

  “I haven't. Always wanted to go, but no chance just yet. I hear it’s a great country to visit.”

  “Depends on where you go,” Amelia laughed. “Maybe don’t go to Wisconsin though, that is where I'm originally from.”

  “Not that great of a place?”

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “Chicago is better.”

  “If I go there, I’ll be sure to look you up, yeah?” He winked at her.

  She felt that flutter in her chest again, and looked at his eyes. He tipped back the rest of his whiskey and returned the look, and a pregnant silence hung in the air between them. He cleared his throat finally, setting his glass down on the table. “I’ve got some good gin back at mine,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Would you be interested in testing it?”

  Amelia took a breath, her skin heating under the weight of his gaze. He was looking at her patiently, waiting for her to answer. She swallowed the last of her drink, and hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said. “yes, I most certainly would be interested.”

  She followed him up the stairs of the house, which he’d explained was divided into three flats, one for each floor. His apartment was spacious, and modern. The copious art matched the modern space. Callum tossed his keys into a dish on the counter, and walked to a small, brass bar cart sitting along the wall. “Gin and tonic then?” he asked. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Sounds good,” Amelia said. She sat down on the edge of the navy-blue couch, facing the large bay window. The city lights were glittering in the distance, and she realized with a sudden rush that she missed Chicago. The farms and the fields held their own beauty, but here she felt almost as if she were back home.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Callum said, handing her the drink.

  “I haven’t heard anyone say that in a very long time,” Amelia laughed, taking a sip. “Oh wow, this is really good.”

  “My mother says it all of the time. I suppose it stuck.” Callum sat on the couch next to her. “Gorgeous view, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah it is. It makes me miss Chicago, a bit.”

  “You like it there? In the city?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Amelia said. “It’s been lovely being here, but I am looking forward to going home, even though I'm technically homeless at the moment.”

  “How’s that?” Callum took a sip of his whisky. “Breakup?”

  Amelia nodded. “Long-time boyfriend, we both graduated, went in different directions. Old story, I guess, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. He let me stay at our place for a bit, but while I’ve been gone he’s probably let it go. I wouldn’t want to stay there any longer anyway.”

  “Bad memories?”

  “Good ones, really,” Amelia said, looking down at her glass and swirling the drink. The ice cubes clinked against it, making small, musical sounds. “We had a pretty good relationship, I think. We just didn’t talk enough. Not about what we wanted, or our futures. I think we both just assumed the other was on the same page, and then we found out very suddenly that we weren’t. It wasn’t anything dramatic, no cheating or big blow-up fights. It was all very amicable, really.”

  “Any chance you think you’ll make up?” Callum glanced at her. He got up, and walked to the fireplace at the far end of the room. It was very different from the one in her small rustic cottage. There was a smooth stone hearth above it, white with grey veins running through it, and grey flagstones in front. Callum knelt down. “There’s heating in here, but I like a fire. Better ambience, yeah?” He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “I’m an artist and a writer, I’m all about the ambience you know.”

  “What kind of writer?” Amelia asked, her interest piqued.

  “I write poetry, mostly. It’s a bit rubbish, I think. Haven’t sold much. My visual art does better.”

  “You're an Artist? I’d love to see your work.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe someday.” He winked at her. “Now, you didn’t answer my question? Any chance that you and the boyfriend will get back together?”

  “We talked about it before I left. Sort of agreed that I’d look for jobs where he was going,” Amelia admitted. “But I don’t think so, no. The more time that passes, the more I see that I just don’t think we were right for each other. I don’t want to be in that kind of relationship, you know, one where you don’t really talk about things? I ignored it for a long time, thinking it was just because we were both so busy with school, that we would talk more when it was all over. And now I think that it was just us.” She shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “Maybe we always subconsciously knew if we started talking, we’d say things the other person didn’t want to hear. So we just didn’t.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done quite a bit of thinking about it,” Callum said, coming back to sit next to her.

  “Well, there’s plenty of downtime out there in the wilds,” Amelia said, laughing.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not thinking of getting back together with the guy,” Callum said.

  “Why’s that?” Amelia felt the fluttering in her stomach again. He was sitting so close to her, and there was the promise of something else behind his words.

  “Because I was very much hoping that I’d get to do this again.” He leaned towards her then, his hand going to the small of her back, and there was a fraction of a second where she could have pulled away, but she didn’t want to. Amelia knew he was going to kiss her, and she tilted her head back slightly, her eyes drifting to his mouth as he bent his head, pressing his lips gently against hers.

  They were as warm and soft as she’d remembered, and she leaned into him, her hand on his thigh as he threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking the nape of her neck as his tongue skimmed over her lower lip, and she parted them for him. He deepened the kiss, and she gasped softly, her skin flushing hotly as she felt her tongue brush against his, and she arched her back. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and she slid her hands down his chest, feeling the firm flex of muscle under his shirt. His hair fell over his eyes, brushing against her face, and she giggled softly against his mouth. “That tickles,” she whispered, and he laughed, the vibrations of it running over her lips.