Fur and Fangs Box Set
Page 29
“I think you’re pissed enough for both of us,” I say to Elyse.
“How could they say no to you? Don’t they know how much courage it took for you to ask?”
My mind takes that statement and runs in the obvious direction: Since last time ended so badly. It had ended badly. Not with physical violence—Natasha was never that kind of abusive—but with crying fits, guilt trips, and gaslighting. That’s the tricky thing about emotional abuse. I can always say to myself, It’s not so bad. At least she doesn’t hit me. Maybe I’m overreacting.
That’s when the lightbulb goes off. This situation with Riley is nothing like my old issues with Natasha, but my reaction is exactly the same. I’m doing what I used to do then. Minimizing my feelings, making excuses for something my partner’s done to upset me. I grind my teeth behind my lips. Damn it, Izzy. You should know better.
I look Elyse in the eye. “I need to ask them why. I just…don’t know if I’m brave enough.”
Elyse slides off her desk and stands in front of me, bending down to place her hands on my shoulders. “You are brave enough. You asked Riley out in the first place. You’ve been working so hard to have a different kind of relationship with them than you had with…her.”
I crack a smile. For some reason, Elyse’s reluctance to even say Natasha’s name cheers me up, like she’s not even worth mentioning.
“Seriously. You are brave enough.”
“Fine. I’m brave enough.”
She squeezes my shoulders, then let’s go. “That’s my girl. Want to practice what you’re going to say? Might make it easier.”
The knot in my chest loosens a little. “Sounds good.”
***
I drum my fingers on the couch armrest, waiting for Riley to arrive. The temptation to check my phone is strong, but I’m too embarrassed. I’ve looked several times in the last half-hour, and I don’t want to seem desperate, even to myself.
Eventually, impatience gets the best of me. I pull my phone out of my skirt pocket—more skirts should have pockets—and check my texts. The last one from Riley is thirty minutes old, saying they’ve left work and caught the subway. They should be arriving any second.
A buzz from my phone makes my heart leap and my stomach sink. No, not Riley. The text is from Elyse, asking: ‘Did you two talk yet?’ I don’t respond. I need to save the ebbing courage I have for my conversation with Riley.
What feels like years later, there’s a knock on the door. I flinch but restrain myself before leaping to my feet. Instead, I take a deep breath, stand up, and smooth the front of my skirt. This is Riley. You know them. They would never do anything to hurt you.
I repeat that mantra until I reach the door. Riley stands awkwardly on the other side, short blonde hair disheveled by the wind. They’re holding a bouquet of flowers, which they thrust forward at me a little too vigorously. “Sorry for takin’ so long. I went and picked these up.”
A lump forms in my throat. I cradle the bouquet in my arms, thin tissue paper crinkling, and lift it to my nose. They’re sunflowers. Big, bold sunflowers whose brightness reaches right inside me. “Don’t apologize. They’re perfect.”
Riley’s grin hangs wide like the moon. “Almost.” They finesse a single sunflower stem apart from its fellows and snap the blossom off, tucking it behind my ear. “Now you’re perfect.”
I sniff, wiping my mascara before it can run too far. “This is stupid. I love you. Why won’t you move in with me.”
Concerned wrinkles form in Riley’s brow. “Is that what you’ve been in a tizzy over?”
“Was I that bad?”
“You want my honest answer?”
I nod.
“You were actin’ ‘bout as lonely as a pine tree in a parking lot.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Riley’s Southernisms always have that effect on me. “I should have said something sooner. Can we talk about it? I don’t want to pressure you—”
Riley’s blue eyes open wide. “Pressure me? Darlin’, I’ve been worryin’ all this time about pressurin’ you.”
Well. That certainly isn’t the answer I’m expecting. I suppose I’d braced myself for something harsh: like that I’m ‘too much’ to live with. Too loud, too needy, too demanding. Thinking of it like that makes it seem silly. Riley never sees me that way.
“Why did you think you were pressuring me? I was the one who brought up moving in together.”
Riley rubs the back of their neck. “I’ve just been takin’ a lot of steps forward lately. Goin’ to immortality counseling. Tellin’ you how I feel all the time. I didn’t want it to be too much, ‘cuz I couldn’t bear it if I scared you off.”
I clasp a hand over my mouth, stifling a quiet sob. All this time, Riley’s been thinking about me. My feelings, my reactions. It’s a world of difference from the relationships I’m used to, and it’s thrown me for a loop.
“So, you were hedging to give me space to back out.”
“And you were sulkin’ ‘cause you thought I didn’t wanna live with you.”
We stare at each other, sighing through sad smiles. “Making this work might be hard if this is how we keep doing things.”
Riley cups my cheek. “Then let’s do things different. Stop makin’ assumptions for each other. ‘Cuz you know what they say about those.”
“Yes, I know.”
I let my head fall forward onto Riley’s chest. The smell of their cologne puts me at ease, and my eyes drift shut. “Should we move into your apartment, or mine?”
Riley scoffs. “Yours. Mine’s, uh, cramped.”
I take the opportunity to wind my arms around their waist. “But I like being close to you.”
“How close?”
That’s an invitation if I ever heard one. “Well, we aren’t technically moving into a new place.” I give Riley’s backside a firm squeeze. “But it couldn’t hurt to make sure you’re really comfortable in every room of the apartment. If you think you’re up for it.”
“If I think I’m up for it, huh?” Riley stands tall, as if their pride has been questioned. “That some kind of challenge, sunshine?”
I lick my lips. “Maybe.”
Riley pounces, every bit the wolf as they pin me against the kitchen counter. The bouquet of sunflowers goes sliding across the granite, and the one behind my ear flutters, knocked loose by Riley’s enthusiastic kissing of my neck. I don’t bother reaching for it. Riley and I have made love on my countertop before, but now we’re about to make love on our countertop. The distinction feels important.
Riley’s already got one hand half-way up my blouse when I feel a buzz in my pocket. They perk up, giving me a curious look. “Your phone?”
“Elyse. She’s probably wondering if I had the guts to talk to you.”
“She c’n wait.” Riley takes the phone out and switches it to silent, setting it aside. “Right now, Isabeau LaCour, you’re all mine.”
I’ve got no problem with that. Elyse and my therapist will be thrilled, but they’ll hear the news in good time. Right now, Riley has my full attention, and that’s exactly how it should be. This is exactly how a relationship should be. It’s healthy, and whole, and I want to watch it grow for centuries
About Rae D. Magdon
Rae D. Magdon is a writer and author specializing in sapphic romance and speculative fiction. When she felt the current selection of stories about queer women were too white, too strictly gendered, and far too few in number, she decided to start writing her own. From 2012 to 2016, she has written and published ten novels with Desert Palm Press, won a Rainbow Award in the 2016 Science Fiction category, and was runner up in 2015 for the Golden Crown Literary Award in the Fantasy category. She wholeheartedly believes that all queer women deserve their own adventures, and especially their own happy endings.
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