“No,” Jaq said, “I meant stay with me.”
Bronwyn hesitated, taking her words in. “You were already nice enough to buy me dinner; I don’t want to impose. I’m just going to call a taxi and go into the city; I have a hotel booked for tonight. I just never made it.”
“A beautiful woman in my bed is not usually an imposition,” Jaq said with a slow smile. “I’ll sleep on the couch, I promise.”
“Actually,” Bronwyn said, folding her napkin and setting it on the table, “I might take you up on that if you’re sure?”
Jaq nodded, and they stood, edging out of the booth. Bronwyn looked her up and down. “How tall are you? I don’t remember you being this much taller than me.”
Jaq shrugged. “I’m five-eleven or something. I grew two inches when I turned eighteen; I have no idea why.”
She leaned down and picked up Bronwyn’s luggage.
“I can get that,” Bronwyn said, reaching for the bags. “You don’t have to carry it all the way upstairs.”
Jaq smiled and turned toward the stairs. “I think I can manage.”
****
After a hot shower and some dry clothes, Bronwyn was starting to feel almost normal again. She walked out of the bathroom and sank down on the bed, suddenly more tired than she’d realized.
Jaq handed her a glass of tawny port from the in-room bar and looked her up and down. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“What?” Bronwyn looked up, confused.
Jaq raised an eyebrow and nodded at her black silk shorts and sheer white tank.
“It’s what I wear to bed,” Bronwyn said, reaching over and pulling Jaq’s sweater back on over the top, leaving her legs bare, with just a hint of black lace at the top of her thigh. “Does that make it better?”
“Jesus.” Jaq averted her eyes and tried not to smile. “No, actually,” she said, “That makes it even worse.”
Bronwyn settled back on the bed and took a sip of the port. “You, by the way, do not look like you push numbers around for a living. I’m not sure I believe you.” She leaned back into the pillows and watched as Jaq reached up to slide her bag onto the top shelf in the wardrobe. “No one gets abs like that from math.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jaq smiled over her shoulder and sat on the other end of the bed with her port. “You never told me what you do for a living.” She paused. “Besides making it torture to sleep in the same room as you, of course.”
Bronwyn laughed and threw a pillow in her direction. “I teach chemistry at Stratford, but I’m taking this semester off to paint.”
The lights suddenly flickered and went dark, lightning flashing a blue streak across the night sky outside the window.
“Wait, isn’t Victoria’s wedding supposed to be outside?” Jaq asked, getting up to pull a curtain aside.
Bronwyn didn’t try to hide her excitement. “What if it’s canceled?”
“Don’t tease me.” Jaq laid back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I agreed to hold a champagne flute all day and talk to people I didn’t even like at school.”
There was a knock at the door then, and Jaq went to answer it. It was one of the pub employees with a box of emergency candles.
“Great,” Jaq said, stepping back and closing the door with her foot. She set the box of candles on the dresser as if they were already on fire. “Candlelight. This is all I need.”
Bronwyn came over to look and lit one of the candles with the matches she found in the box. “Do you remember when we got locked in the attic because the girl’s dean decided to do that unscheduled campus tour for the parents?”
“Yeah,” Jaq said, lighting another candle and putting it on the nightstand next to the bed, “We’d only gone up there to be alone for a minute, then we were trapped for hours.”
“The candles you found were beautiful.” Bronwyn lit the last ivory candle and put it on the mantle, standing beside the fireplace grate, thankful for the space between them. “And you made that bed for us on the floor out of the drama department costumes.”
Jaq sat on the bed across from the fireplace, her eyes locked onto Bronwyn. She watched her for a moment before she spoke. “And what else do you remember?”
“That it was our first time. Well, my first time, anyway.”
Jaq laughed and looked down, shaking her head. “Other than kissing one of our teachers, at that point, you were all I knew. I’d never been with anyone either.”
“You kissed one of our teachers?”
“What can I say,” Jaq said, smiling. “She liked bad bois.”
Bronwyn walked from the mantle to where Jaq was sitting on the edge of the bed. It mattered, what she chose to do now, what she made happen. Bronwyn stepped between Jaq’s knees and rested her hands on her shoulders. Jaq closed her eyes and paused, then slid her hands slowly up the back of Bronwyn’s thighs.
A loud knock at the door shattered the silence, and the same employee popped in with an apology and a spare box of matches. He closed the door, and Bronwyn stepped back, covering her face with her hands.
“Fuck,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “What the hell am I doing?”
“First I’m going to lock that door, then you’re going to bed,” Jaq said. “And you’re going to try your best not to look gorgeous while you do it.”
Bronwyn slid under the covers. “Jaq,” she whispered, as if it was a secret, “Will you sleep in the bed with me?”
Jaq looked at her for a moment and ran her hand through her hair. Blowing out the candles, she slipped under the covers, still dressed, pulling Bronwyn into her arms and breathing in the still familiar scent of her hair. Her fingers found the natural silver streak of her hair near the top of her head, a birthmark she’d had since she was a child. In school, Jaq would run her fingers through it while Bronwyn slept. It was a slightly different texture than the rest of her hair, a touchstone. If she found it in the dark, then Bronwyn was in her arms, and that’s all that ever mattered to her.
Outside the rain pelted softly against the window and slid down in dark rivulets, reflecting every flash of lightning in intricate patterns across the wall.
Bronwyn whispered into the dark. “I never forgot you.”
Jaq brought Bronwyn’s hand to her heart and covered it with her own.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Bronwyn woke up to the sun beaming through the window and onto her face. The birds were singing outside, a charming reminder she was in the countryside, but the volume seemed unnecessarily loud. A pillow over her head afforded her another twenty minutes of sleep, but the sun was relentless in its golden prodding after that, so she gave up and sat on the bed. Jaq wasn’t there, and the bathroom door was open, so she saw it was empty. Bronwyn looked around for a note, but there was none. Her heart dropped.
She looked over at the desk by the fireplace then and saw Jaq’s wallet and phone. She wouldn’t have gone too far without them, but Bronwyn was surprised at how panicked she’d felt.
She dug through her bag and found the black underwear she’d brought for the suit she was wearing to the wedding and went to turn on the hot water in the shower.
“You’re not sixteen years old, Bronwyn.” She looked at herself in the mirror while it heated up and the steam started to rise around her like translucent clouds. “And for fuck’s sake, you’re getting married in three months. Get a grip.”
The hot shower relaxed her, and a plan started to take shape in her head. She’d go to the wedding with Jaq, have a lovely time, then go home. That was it. If she just stuck to the plan, it was a foolproof way to keep from wrecking her own life. She turned the water off and wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel. If she let herself have feelings for some high school crush because she had wedding jitters, it presented an enormous new set of problems, and Bronwyn had no desire to start navigating those. Her life was settled, and she was marrying a decent man. End of story.
She walked back into the room just
as Jaq was coming through the door. She took her jacket off and sat down at the desk across from the bed.
Bronwyn pulled the towel a bit tighter around her, suddenly aware her sheer black underwear was all she had on underneath. “Where have you been? And did you pass coffee on the way? In that order, please.”
“I called someone early this morning to tow your car out of the mud, so I went down and met them there.” She pulled a mud-splattered small black box out of her pocket and set it down on the desk. “Do you have any idea who put a device under your car to track where you are?’
Bronwyn came closer and looked at it. “What do you mean, track?”
Jaq tapped her thumb on the desk, looking at the muddy black square. “As your car came out of the mud, I was standing to the side of it and saw this underneath the front driver’s side. Whoever put this under your car is virtually tracking its location from their computer.” She paused, looking up at Bronwyn. “And if you don’t know who did it, there’s a reason it’s hidden.”
Distracted, Bronwyn reached for the box to look at it. Unfortunately, she did that with the hand that was holding up her towel. Jaq didn’t even try not to stare.
“Jesus,” Bronwyn said, catching the towel at her waist and quickly wrapping it back around her. “Pretend you didn’t see that.”
“I’ll do no such thing. That might have been the best moment of my life.”
Jaq was teasing her, and it was hard for it not to charm her, even in the midst of the drama. She picked up the box and looked at it.
“I’ve never seen this before,” she said, “I didn’t even know it was possible to do that.”
“Well, I’ve disabled it now, so whoever has access to it is shit out of luck.” Jaq set it back on the desk and looked toward the door. “Now, I believe you said something about coffee?”
Jaq showered and dressed fairly quickly; her clothes for the wedding were simple and straightforward. Grey G-Star jeans, polished wingtips, white button-up shirt, and a cropped navy jacket that Bronwyn noted walked the line between masculine and sexy as fuck.
Jaq went down to have a drink in the pub while Bronwyn finished her makeup and got dressed. It occurred to her as she took the suit off the hanger that she’d not tried it on after the alterations, and the start of panic fluttered in her stomach as she slipped it on. But as usual, Andrew was spot on, and the lines of the fabric perfectly followed the lines of her body.
She buttoned the jacket and looked in the mirror. She’d always had a lean frame and high cheekbones, the clash of feminine and androgyny, but over the years, she’d altered her style to fit what Ian preferred. Classically feminine clothes crowded her pastel closet at home, which was fine for teaching, but it wasn’t until she saw herself in the suit Andrew had tailored to her body that she realized how far from herself she’d strayed.
Her face was bare except for intense smoky eyeshadow, and she’d pulled her hair up into a loose, imperfect twist, loosening sections to soften it. ‘More bedroom than ballerina,’ as her best friend Moira liked to say. The soft curve of her breasts was the perfect contrast to the crisp lines of the suit, and the jacket buttoned just low enough to show a hint of curve from the side. She slid on her black stilettos and a cream cashmere scarf on the way out the door.
On the way down, she realized the wedding was supposed to start in twenty minutes. Jaq was sitting at the bar with a rocks glass of whisky, swirling it slowly around the sides. She looked up as Bronwyn entered the room, and didn’t breathe again until she spoke.
“Christ, Bronwyn.”
Jaq swept her eyes slowly over Bronwyn’s body then ran her hand through her hair, her eyes following her as she slid onto the barstool beside her, her hand warm on Jaq’s thigh. The bartender strained a drink out of a shaker into a frosted martini glass and set it down in front of her.
“Pardon,” Bronwyn said as he turned to leave, “What is this?”
“Bombay Sapphire martini, ma’am.”
Bronwyn thanked him and turned to Jaq. “How do you know I love gin?”
Jaq smiled. “Do you remember that night we snuck out onto the roof?”
Bronwyn nodded. “And we talked until the sun came up and we both went to class looking shattered.”
“Exactly,” Jaq said, her eyes soft with the memory. “You told me that night you used to drink the rest of your father’s martinis after he’d gone to bed.”
“I remember,” Bronwyn said, then paused. “I just can’t believe you do.”
Jaq dropped her eyes and finished the rest of the whiskey in her glass. “I remember everything.”
Bronwyn sipped from the icy surface of her martini. The plan was not working. Already. It didn’t help that Jaq somehow looked like a grown-up version of the bad boi she fell in love with. Her dark hair looked like she’d just woken up and run her hand through it, and her silvery blue eyes were dark with thought. Bronwyn realized she still had her hand on Jaq’s thigh and made herself remove it.
“So,” she said, “I had a thought while I was getting dressed.”
“About the box?”
“Kind of,” she said, “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“I’m listening.”
“A few months ago, I was on the way to the shops and realized my phone was dead on the way out the door. I plugged it in and set it on the hall table next to the front door and went upstairs to my studio to clean my brushes.”
Jaq slid a hand behind her neck and leaned back on her stool, listening.
“I got distracted and worked on one of my canvasses, so it was about an hour before I came back downstairs. But when I got there, it was gone.”
“Okay,” Jaq said. “Who has a key to your house?”
Bronwyn thought for a moment. “My mum, of course, my best mate Moira, and Ian. But I’m almost sure it wasn’t locked; I usually only lock it when I leave the house, so I assumed it was stolen. Although my purse was there as well and it hadn’t been touched.”
“Did you ever find it?”
“That’s the strange part,” Bronwyn said, “When I came back from the shops it was sitting in the same place on the hall table, plugged into the charger.”
Jaq tapped her keys on the bar. “Is it the same phone you have now?”
Bronwyn nodded.
“Do me a favor?” Jaq said. “Leave your phone in the room until we get back. Let me think on it, and we’ll figure it out tonight.” She looked at her watch and got up from the stool, holding her hand out for Bronwyn. “Our taxi is probably out there now. If we’re lucky, we’ll miss the ceremony completely.”
****
The wedding was at the Staffordshire Abbey, a few miles outside the city in Northumberland. The actual abbey was just stone walls and freestanding gothic entryways; it dated from the sixteenth century, and the roof had long since succumbed to the elements. The late afternoon light was fading already, the sun low and golden beyond the ruins. A long, winding path led to the abbey, and another wound down to the stone great hall built in the same style just beyond it, covered in ivy.
“Two roads diverged in a wood…” Bronwyn looked over at Jaq.
Jaq raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me you’re thinking about skipping the wedding completely and just making an appearance at the reception.”
“Victoria is lucky I’m attending at all,” she said, as they turned down the path leading away from the abbey and towards the great hall. “She and her best mate Amber made my life hell when I came back to Stratford. They heard the rumor about you and me and wouldn’t let it go. All her little friends whispered about it for the rest of the year.”
“I wish I’d been there. She wouldn’t have gotten the chance to even open her mouth.”
The great hall looked like a medieval manor in the setting sun. Light spilled out of the windows from three levels and in the front were massive wooden double doors that looked to be hundreds of years old, with hand forged iron hinges and handles. As they got closer, they realized the staff was s
till setting up inside, so Bronwyn took Jaq’s hand and led her over the crest of the hill to the stone steps beyond it. The steps descended into lush gardens, velvety green even in early autumn, then to a maze made of hedges set at the edge of the woods. A symphony of evening sounds started to surround them, led by the sudden swoop of bats weaving an invisible pattern above their heads.
“Isn’t the maze mysterious?” Bronwyn said. “I was here once, years ago, and I wanted to go into it so badly but it was already dark, and I knew I’d get lost.”
“Well then,” Jaq said, “I’d say it’s high time we got in there, don’t you?”
Jaq led her down to the maze, and it took a little under thirty seconds before Bronwyn was lost. She crinkled up her forehead and turned one way, then another, until she finally just sat down on one of the stone benches. “See?” She said, “This thing could be on fire, and I’d have no idea how to get out.”
Jaq laughed and sat down beside her. “We’ve only taken three turns,” she said, looking back where they’d started. “How can you be lost already?’
“My dad has always told me I was his favorite child…”
“Wait,” said Jaq, “Aren’t you an only child?”
Bronwyn nodded. “…But that I needed constant supervision. I always thought he was just teasing me, but it isn’t very far from the truth. I tend to get into trouble if left to my own devices.”
“I always liked him,” Jaq said, pulling a leaf off the hedge and folding it like paper. “Although he can’t have been happy I got you pulled out of school.”
“Actually,” Bronwyn said, smiling at the memory, “When we got home from school the day I left, Mom went straight into his office at the house, and I heard her telling him about you kissing me by the car.”
“Oh wow,” Jaq said. “Really?”
“I think she’d expected him to back her up, but he just laughed and told her it took some balls to do what you did. And that’s a quote.” Bronwyn smiled. “She was not happy.”
“I can imagine,” Jaq said. “How are your parents these days?”
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