“It’s been ages. I’ve missed you!”
“I missed you, too.”
Alex kissed her deeply, uncaring about the people swirling around them. Bridget sank into the kiss. She’d always thought of home as a place, but the past four months of jetting all over the country had her realizing that no, home was just a synonym for Alex.
“I love you in suits,” Bridget said.
Alex turned away from the mirror to face her. They were in a hotel suite in downtown LA that was so luxurious it had her head spinning. More than that, Bridget’s sparkling green gown with its plunging neckline was doing things to her. She grasped Bridget’s hips and purred, “Why do you think I chose it?”
Bridget let out a hearty laugh before kissing her soundly. Alex, feeling the heat build in her belly, groaned into the kiss.
“Oh, my God,” Bridget said as she pulled away. “I know what’s going on in your head, and we do not have time for that.”
“I can’t help it my plane was late,” Alex whined.
Bridget’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Promise.”
A few minutes later, when they were settled in the limo, Alex’s phone dinged with a text from Lu. There was no message, just a link to a cellphone video of them making out at the airport that afternoon. Her cheeks went hot. “Oh, God,” she muttered.
Bridget leaned over, took one look, and laughed. “I’m not going to lie. That probably won’t be our last make-out to grace the home page of a gossip site.”
When the limo arrived at the Staples Center, Alex sank back into the seat with a groan.
Bridget clasped her hand. “Nervous?”
Alex nodded.
“Don’t be,” Bridget said with a squeeze of her hand. “I got you.” Then she led Alex out of the limo and into the crowd, where they were instantly overwhelmed by shouting and camera flashes.
And even though Alex’s heart was beating a mile a minute and she was already sweating through her suit, she’d never felt safer.
“You made it!” Owen cried as he spotted Alex coming down the aisle.
Bridget, as part of the pit band for the high school’s musical, had needed to be here pretty early, so Alex had sent her off with a good-luck kiss and gotten ready alone. The theater still needed some minor work, but it was a usable space for the kids, even if the paint was so fresh the fumes couldn’t be totally masked.
Alex greeted Owen with a hug. “You got a babysitter!”
“It’s a big night. Couldn’t pass that up.”
“Thanks for coming. I know Bridget really appreciates the support.”
“Of course. We all came.” He gestured to the row, which they’d managed to completely fill.
Jordan, Lu, Riley, Evelyn, Marcus, Ian, Jaya, Arya, Dev. They were all here. Alex waved to everyone in turn before scooting into the row and sliding into the seat they’d saved for her between Lu and Evelyn.
Evelyn gave her a side-hug. “Nice to see you, darling.”
“And you.”
The pit band was warming up and tuning their instruments. Bridget sat in the back at the keyboard. Like the rest of the pit, she wore black jeans and a black T-shirt. She’d even roped Max into this, although Alex suspected he liked small-town life just as much as she did and welcomed the change from the city.
Bridget looked up from her sheet music.
Alex held up a hand in a small wave.
When Bridget saw it, she broke out in a grin.
Alex settled back in her chair. She attended the production every year, both to support the high school and for something to do in this small town, but this was the first year since she’d graduated that she had more than an idle interest. And she was proud of Bridget—for doing right by the hometown that treated her so well, for giving the kids a role model to look up to.
The music began, and the curtain opened, and Alex sat back to enjoy the show.
A few weeks later, Alex was in the front row of the studio audience of an entirely different type of show, The Mikayla Miles Show.
“Bridget,” Mikayla said as they settled into their chairs, “so nice to see you again.”
“And it’s nice to be here,” Bridget said with a wide smile.
Alex was always slightly in awe of how winning Bridget was during television appearances. Of course Alex found her charming no matter what, even at six AM with messy hair and morning breath. But it was odd—a good kind of odd—to see her how the general public reacted to her.
“It’s been, what, six months since you last visited?” Mikayla said.
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“And so much has changed for you since then. You’re no longer based in New York, you have a new album coming out at the end of the summer, and, most exciting of all, I think, you’re in a relationship. I know that’s what everyone’s most curious about, but outside of a few appearances together, you’ve been pretty tight-lipped.”
Bridget actually blushed. “Probably to your dissatisfaction, I’m going to remain tight-lipped about that except to say that we’re happy. Deliriously so.”
Heat rose to Alex’s cheeks, too. Bridget sought her in the crowd and, when her gaze settled on Alex, sent her a dazzling smile.
Mikayla didn’t miss the moment, but gracefully, she steered the conversation to a different topic. “You’ve been open about your bisexuality for a while now, but in a way, it’s a lot more visible now. What do you think your visibility means to your fans in the LGBT+ community?”
“You know, I really hope it makes them realize that life can be good and you can find love, and that for so many people, differences don’t have to divide us,” Bridget said. “I want to write songs for people like me. I want teenage girls to be able to sing about the girls they have crushes on, whether it’s in the privacy of their bedroom or in a bowling alley or wherever. I want boys who are coming to terms with being gay to recognize themselves in a song. I want non-binary kids to hear a song with they/them pronouns and realize it’s normal. I just want to give them a little hope because I was in their situation once upon a time.”
The audience clapped, and Alex, smiling, joined them. She didn’t always appreciate the attention they got while in New York, which was one of the many reasons she preferred the quiet of their hometown, but the moments when they interacted with Bridget’s young queer fans made it worth it. They clearly needed an example like she and Bridget could give, needed songs like the ones Bridget and Max wrote.
“Well, you’re certainly an inspiration,” Mikayla said when the clapping had subsided. To the camera in front of her, she continued, “We’re going to take a break, but stay tuned! Bridget and her writing partner, Max Ocampo, will debut the first single off Bridget’s upcoming album after our commercial break.”
As Bridget moved to the stage where Max waited, she passed in front of Alex.
Alex mouthed, “Love you,” and from the softness in Bridget’s expression, Alex knew she understood.
“I’m exhausted,” Bridget groaned. After a month of promoting the new album, she felt like she was sleepwalking. All she wanted was to sleep for a day. Maybe two whole days. And then there was the tour to focus on.
Alex unlocked the front door to her house. She’d come home three weeks ago to catch up on her businesses and had just picked Bridget up at the airport. Benny greeted them enthusiastically, his tail whipping wildly.
Alex helped Bridget out of her jacket and hung it on the hook in the foyer. “Why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll bring you some tea?”
“Are you sure? You’ve got to be as tired as I am.”
“Not quite. It’ll take three minutes. I’ll see you upstairs.”
“Okay.” Bridget kissed her on the lips. “Thank you.”
Upstairs, she changed into pajamas and settled on her side of the bed,
Benny jumping up after her. This was her life now, and the normalcy was all the sweeter for almost having lost it. There was only one thing missing. She was ready, but was Alex?
Did Alex even want it?
Bridget calmed herself by petting Benny, and a few minutes later, Alex came up the stairs with two mugs of steaming tea.
Alex stripped out of her jeans and sweater and donned her sweats. She was as gorgeous as ever, and love welled in Bridget’s heart as she watched. Because she’d been blessed in a lot of ways, but this was the tops.
She didn’t want it to be a big production because Alex wasn’t like that. Alex was simple and caring, and she deserved something considerate. So there would be no bended knees or hot-air balloon rides or jumbotrons at baseball games.
Since Bridget had moved in, the end table on her side of the bed had been full of books. The drawer, though, contained only one thing, a ring box. She retrieved it now, while Alex was distracted by getting into bed, and held it under the blankets.
Beside her, Alex settled, grabbed her mug from her end table, and blew on her tea. “It’s good to have you back.”
“So good.” Happiness seeped out of Bridget like warmth. Phone calls and text messages and Skype sessions could tide them over for a while, but Bridget craved nothing more than Alex’s presence.
Bridget sipped her tea. It was comfortable. It was home.
“Are you happy?” Alex asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant.
Bridget lifted her head to meet Alex’s gaze. Almost a year in, and they’d made it work just like they’d promised to. And they talked. That was the most important thing. They told each other when they were upset, when they were tired, when they were frustrated, and they always worked things out.
“Yeah, I am,” she said. “Are you?”
Alex nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
Bridget pressed her lips to Alex’s, reveling in the familiar, reassuring touch. When the kiss ended, Alex rested her forehead against Bridget’s.
Bridget could stay here forever—in this bed, in these arms. She took a deep breath. She was going to do it. She was. “Good. Because I have something to ask you,” she said, pulling away.
“Okay…” Alex raised an eyebrow and sipped her tea. “Are you going to ask me to move in with you?”
Bridget rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ooh, no,” Alex said. “You’re going to ask me to bake my famous cake for your birthday, aren’t you? Bridge, I was going to do that already.”
“Are you going to stop guessing so I can ask?” Bridget said, lips curling upward.
“Fine. I’m sorry. Ask away,” Alex said, setting down her mug.
Bridget’s fingers locked around the velvet box. She pulled it out from under the blankets, opened it to show the modest ring, and set it in the space between them. She took a huge breath. She had so many words planned, so many sentiments to share, but Alex’s brown eyes were full of love and nothing else seemed to matter too much in this moment.
Bridget took one of Alex’s hands. “Alex,” she said, “I love you. Through all the hectic days, I always have you to come home to, and I’m so unbelievably grateful for that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, making memories and just being with you. Marry me?”
“Hold on a sec,” Alex said, slipping out of bed.
“Are you kidding me?” What was happening right now? Bridget was asking the most important question of her life, and Alex wasn’t even paying attention.
“I’ll be right back!” Alex opened her sock drawer and fumbled through it.
Bridget rubbed her eyes. “I’m trying to propose to you.”
“I know that.” Alex, fist clenched, hopped back in bed.
“Are you done?”
“I’m done.”
Bridget wanted to be mad, but there was an earnestness in Alex’s gaze that made her anger and confusion dissipate in a heartbeat.
Alex uncurled her fingers to reveal a similar-looking box, which she opened to reveal a square-cut emerald ring.
Bridget gasped softly. “Your grandma’s ring.”
“My grandma’s ring.”
Bridget looked up, tears pooling as she registered what this meant. “That’s a yes?”
“As long as yours is, too.”
Their lips crashed together, although they were barely able to keep the kiss going because Alex was grinning and Bridget was cry-laughing.
“I love you, Bridget Callahan,” Alex murmured as she slipped the ring onto Bridget’s finger. “I love our life together.”
Bridget did the same for her. “And I love you, Alex Marlow, and this life we’ve built.”
Alex held her hand beside Bridget’s, her thumb interlocked with Bridget’s pinky so both of their rings were in view for Bridget to snap a picture.
“Who are you telling?” Alex asked.
“Just my mom and brothers and Jaya and Max,” Bridget said.
“Can you make it a group message and add Lu, Jordan, and Owen? I think they’d like it if it came from you.”
“Liar. You just want it done so you can have your way with me.”
Humming, Alex bent her head to pepper kisses on Bridget’s neck. “Do you object?”
“Absolutely not. But they’ll kill us if we don’t answer our phones until morning.”
Alex grinned. “They can take it up with us at dinner tomorrow. We can take bets on who’s angriest at us for not telling them in person.”
“It’s going to be Owen, easy,” Bridget said. “What kind of bet is that?” She sent the picture, along with a dozen heart emojis as the caption, to the most important people in their lives.
Then she turned off her notifications. They had way more important things to do. Alex’s arms were already around her waist, coaxing her backwards, and Bridget, smiling into the kiss, went willingly.
About Charley Clarke
Charley Clarke writes romance, both contemporary and speculative fiction. She loves baked goods, long walks, and relaxing with a good book and a cup of tea.
CONNECT WITH CHARLEY
Website: www.charleyclarkewriter.com
Twitter: @CharleyCWriter
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