“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
Kesa glanced at Paz because she still couldn’t look at Shannon.
His voice low and gentle, he said to Josie, “I can’t even afford to buy you a ring yet.”
“Rings are ten bucks at Walmart. I’m not asking for more than that.”
“But I do want to give you more.”
“Being poor doesn’t frighten me, Paz.”
“I know. Me neither. That’s not the point, cariña Jo-Jo.”
Shannon was back to stirring her coffee as if her life depended on it. “I don’t doubt your courage. I’m kind of awed by it, in fact.”
Kesa noticed that Josie was listening to Shannon and not bristling to interrupt her. It stung. “Courage all by itself isn’t enough.”
Shannon’s spoon clattered against the table. “I think the idea of making up a timeline, a list, is a good one. I can support something when I know what it is.”
“It’s love,” Josie said, but without the snark she would have given Kesa. “That’s what it is.”
Shannon resumed stirring, making it the best stirred coffee on the planet. “That’s not everything. It’s only a beginning. It takes care and feeding. That’s what we’re trying to say.”
Kesa was floored to see tears in Josie’s eyes. “You don’t understand.”
Shannon’s voice was very low. “I do, better than you know.”
Paz was looking at Shannon with some surprise, but he didn’t say anything.
“Fine,” Josie muttered. “We’ll make a stupid list. Whatever makes you happy. But it doesn’t change anything.”
Disaster averted—for now, Kesa thought. Shannon too brightly asked if Kesa had made the jacket Josie was wearing.
“Kind of.” Josie touched the denim sleeve. “I got it at a thrift store and Kesa took in the shoulders and let the waist out a little. And added the design on the back. It’s for when I’m fancy. How did you know Kesa made clothes?”
Shannon didn’t even blink. “We shared bios while you were gone.” She seemed oblivious to the speculative glance Paz and Josie shared. “It looks like it was made for you. Very attractive.”
Josie glanced at Kesa. “So you know she’s a marshal.”
“Not a marshal,” Kesa corrected. “An analyst for the marshals.”
Paz cocked his head. “It took me years to realize there’s a big difference.”
Kesa gulped. She was not very good at the lying thing, obviously.
Shannon distracted the table by opening her jacket to reveal her blouse. “No sidearm. It’s one of the ways you can tell.”
Kesa stared at the silhouette of Shannon’s torso and fought back the memory of her fingertips on Shannon’s ribs.
The server dropped off the bill with a false, “Take your time, no hurry.”
Shannon reached for it first. “Let me.”
“Don’t be silly,” Kesa protested.
“We’ll take turns.”
Dear lord, Kesa thought. Of course we’ll see each other again. And again. The universe was having a great big laugh, and it was so totally and completely not fair.
“Thank you, Shannon,” Josie and Paz said in unison.
As they finished their desserts and then gathered their things to leave, Kesa went back and forth between a heated swoon and what felt like a more than justifiable outrage. To have been thrown back into Shannon’s path again was one thing. But Josie clearly already had more respect for Shannon than Kesa had ever received, and it was hard not to be bitter about that.
The kids were quickly out of sight, but not before glancing over their shoulders then putting their heads together to share excited whispers. Kesa gazed after them to keep from looking at Shannon as they left the crowded area in front of the diner.
“I don’t know what I expected,” Shannon finally said, “but it wasn’t this.”
“None of this. Josie never said Paz’s guardian was gay or your name.”
“Same here. They seem to think they were giving us a nice surprise.”
“It was a surprise all right.” Kesa turned in the direction of her car and was both pleased and alarmed that Shannon turned in sync with her. Tendrils of awareness seemed to sparkle between them.
Shannon scuffed a piece of broken glass into the gutter. “You never answered my question. How have you been?”
How had she been in the four years since she’d gotten dressed on Sunday afternoon and left Shannon’s house to pick up Josie? Not knowing Shannon would ghost her? She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness. “Does it matter how I’ve been?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Kesa could think of two words: “I’m” and “sorry.” Though really, what was there to say about two nights and an afternoon? About false courage and the fools that love makes of us? “What matters is they can’t get married. Josie is too young. Paz seems very nice, but he has a life that won’t be made any easier with marriage.”
“I certainly saw a side of him tonight that is brand new to me. I don’t doubt they believe they’re in love.”
“We both know it doesn’t work that way.” Love at first sight is lust in a pretty package, she could have added. They’d proved that.
“I don’t think,” Shannon said quietly, “you understand the first thing about what I know.”
Kesa would not be put off by Shannon’s stony cop face. “I don’t. You’re right. I never did, clearly. Nevertheless, Josie is too young.” Stay on target, she told herself. Part of her wanted to laugh hysterically—why was she thinking about Death Stars?
Focus was hard, because now the only thing she could picture in her mind was the first time she had been in Shannon’s arms and how every care melted off her body the moment Shannon’s arms were around her.
“Josie is too young,” Kesa said again. It was the one immutable truth of this situation and she clung to it like a life preserver.
They had been slowly walking away from the diner, ostensibly looking in the windows of the UCLA Bruins Gear store. Shannon seemed greatly interested in a blue and gold stadium cushion. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m afraid if I squeeze her any harder she’ll run. She’s very independent. Very strong-willed.” What Paz admires now he might find wearing in the long run, she thought. “They can live together. I would rather that, frankly.”
“It works out quite nicely, if I become their landlord.” Shannon’s expression didn’t let on whether she liked that idea.
“You could refuse. Let them discover that paying bills is harder than they think.”
“It won’t deter Paz.” Shannon drifted to the next shop window.
Kesa kept pace with her, once again wishing she’d simply worn her boots. “When did you…? I mean, he wasn’t in your life when we…”
“He was, actually. A kid I shot hoops with next door. We became very close over the last few years.”
“Josie called you his guardian.”
“It’s the simplest word, but there’s no legal tie between us. Just history.”
She would not elaborate, Kesa decided. Whatever their history was, it had brought out a steely edge. Did Josie know this history?
They didn’t have more to say to each other and Kesa reminded herself she had hoped for an early night so she could start moving into the workshop before most people were up and about on a Saturday. She had a lost commission to make up for and the sooner she settled in, the sooner she would create more cash flow. Inevitably there would be unexpected expenses. She couldn’t afford the time this stroll down Unhappy Memory Lane was taking.
They’d paused again, this time jostled closer together by a sudden stream of chattering people emerging from what turned out to be an art house theater. Kesa glanced at the marquee but didn’t recognize the film. She was lucky to have the time to stay caught up on the superhero movies when they were in theaters.
All at o
nce she was aware that Shannon’s scent—shampoo and laundry soap, salt and citrus—was in her head. She felt steeped in it, like a luxurious hot bath, and it left her ridiculously weak.
She managed to murmur the inanely obvious, “It’s gotten crowded.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Blocks from here on the other side of Wilshire. You?”
“That direction too.”
They turned in unison and Kesa blamed the heat from the sidewalk for her flushed skin. It didn’t improve when they finally escaped the worst of the crowded Friday night sidewalks, but the noise at least diminished. It would have been easier to talk if only Kesa could have thought of something to say.
“And you still haven’t answered my question.” Shannon was back to window-shopping, her steps slow and her gaze on mannequins showing off the latest in swimwear.
Stripes were in, Kesa noted. “How have I been? More of the same. Until lately, nothing really any different. You?”
“I got my security clearance. Did you get your workshop?”
“I’m moving into my brand-new space tomorrow.”
“Good for you!” Shannon finally looked at Kesa, but her face was in shadow. “I’m sure it was a lot of hard work.”
“It was.” Were they really talking as if the past hadn’t happened? As if there was merely a civilized “one of those things not meant to be” between them? And not scalding-hot memories that Kesa had worked hard to bury? She didn’t know what might show in her face, but for the first time she met Shannon’s gaze directly. In the low light the dark brown eyes she had never forgotten were gleaming black.
“Your hair is a little shorter,” Shannon murmured. “It was past your waist before.”
“I just trimmed it.” She should go home. Excuse herself politely and run for her life. Her hair had been a curtain around them that sunny Sunday afternoon in Shannon’s bed, as she’d straddled Shannon’s waist and bent to kiss her. There had still been an hour before she had to pick up Josie. A final hour of joy and abandon.
“Kesa,” Shannon said.
She wanted to say that Shannon’s shoulders seemed broader, her legs longer, and that she liked the soft highlights in her hair. The buzz of traffic faded, and headlights from passing cars seemed to dim. She turned to face the street and thought, “This is your last chance to save yourself.”
Shannon said her name again, and it didn’t matter why. When she turned back, Shannon’s face was bathed in the white light of the sign above them promising WiFi and HBO and a refrigerator in every room.
It could have been the same motel from four years ago. The pounding in her ears, the throb of her heart beating high in her throat—just like four years ago. This couldn’t be happening. These feelings weren’t real. She couldn’t afford to get mixed up in her head again about lust and love and what was supposed to be.
She had no idea how long they kissed on the sidewalk, lips pressed in wordless, helpless abandon. Her memory of registering for the room was a blur, and all the opportunities where she could have said “stop” or “no” or “this is a bad idea” were past.
Her jacket and skirt were on the floor, Shannon’s shirt was unbuttoned, and her body knew only that the years had been so empty. Anger and disillusionment hadn’t lessened the longing for Shannon’s touch, her voice, her skin. Shannon was wanted and impossible and dangerous. And finally their connection was complete again.
The pale rose of Shannon’s nipples, the freckles that sprinkled across her back and thighs—Kesa remembered all of Shannon and had never thought she would touch her again. Or hear that low sound of arousal followed by a rising gasp of passion.
Gulping in air, stunned, dizzy, clinging to a pillow as if it could save her, Kesa remembered and felt again the knowing, possessive exploration of Shannon’s mouth and fingers. She was open again, saying “yes” again, telling herself not to cry and not to say the words that had ruined everything, even though they seemed—against all understanding—to still be true. They couldn’t be. She’d spent so many nights telling herself that she had not fallen in love with Shannon in a single night.
The sound of her name on Shannon’s lips had blown away all of her tissue-paper lies. The tiny part of her that was capable of wondering how she could come so undone was too weak to be heard as Shannon whispered her name and said “yes” to the questions Kesa dared to ask.
“Is this okay?”
“Can you do that again?”
“Do you want…?”
Her entire life had taught her that gifts came with price tags. Shared kisses, breathless whispers, their mutual surprise and laughter—all of it was a gift.
For a few hours she could indulge every foolish feeling. Tomorrow the bill would come due.
Chapter Thirteen
The moment Shannon’s eyes fluttered open she knew she was alone. Her back was cold. She glanced at the motel room hutch for confirmation. Kesa’s purse was gone.
She rolled over with a groan. What had she been thinking? It was after four a.m. and she’d never not been home at this hour since Paz had lived under her roof. How would she explain it to him?
She hated lying, but that’s what she was going to do. No way was she admitting to Paz that she’d jumped into bed with his girlfriend’s sister. Not because they’d fallen into lust in an evening and certainly not because that was precisely what had happened four years ago.
No, she wasn’t going to explain anything to him. There was such a thing as personal privacy, and there were choices that you didn’t have to tell your kids about. Not that he was her kid, but it was the same great big eww. She’d gone for a drive to the beach and fallen asleep. There. That would work.
After a quick shower and a truly horrible cup of motel-room brewed coffee, she left the room key on the dresser and let herself out into the cool pre-dawn air. The stillness felt as if morning was holding its breath because night wasn’t ready to go just yet. There was only the faintest hint of sunrise at the horizon as she walked to her car along an almost deserted Wilshire Boulevard. Maybe she would get home before Paz even realized she wasn’t there.
In spite of the shower she could smell Kesa on her skin. And could taste her on her lips. They had been like liquid electricity, like that first night all over again. It was impossible. The past was an ugly blot in Shannon’s memory. They weren’t the same people and yet.
And yet.
After she parked the car, she stood on the front porch for a few minutes, trying not to relive the past few hours. But she couldn’t stop. There it was, in vivid digital display across her mind, the moment when Kesa had pushed Shannon’s legs open and trailed her sensitive, supple fingers over her inner thighs.
Kesa’s gaze on her face had been knowing and heated with anticipation. “Slow or fast?”
Shannon had shuddered at the sensation of Kesa’s fingertips so close to where she wanted them. “You decide.”
“Well, then.” Kesa’s tongue was suddenly on her and it was fast, desperately fast, a spillway opening as all the feelings she’d dammed up seem to pour out of her all at once.
In that moment Shannon had felt exploded, all her bones and nerves spread from each other, and Kesa had flowed into those empty spaces, like she had that first night, their second night, and all of that last lazy Sunday afternoon four years ago. Kesa was wound all through her again.
She put the key in the door with a shaking hand. As hard as she’d worked to shake it, her aunt’s voice was all at once in her ear. Don’t go down that road again. The situation is daft, reckless, dangerous. You haven’t changed.
They were two consenting adults who had obviously needed sex. Sex and closure.
She hadn’t expected to ever see Kesa again, that was a certainty. The spackle she’d used to cover the hole inside her had crumbled to dust with a single glance.
She crept into the house and was relieved to see Paz’s door closed and hear the reassuring sound of his snores. She stripped off her clothes, p
ulled on a sleep tee, and curled up in her cold bed.
1000. She’d driven out to the beach. 999. Fallen asleep. 998. Her hands on Kesa’s breasts.
Damn.
1000. 999…
Chapter Fourteen
“I went for a drive,” Kesa lied. “Trying to sort things out. I stopped at a drive-thru for coffee and fell asleep for a while in the parking lot.”
Josie didn’t seem concerned with the details, which was fortunate because Kesa was learning just how bad a liar she was.
“We went dancing at a friend’s house party.” Josie pushed at the textbooks scattered across the tiny dining room table, her face drooping with fatigue. “But he dropped me off early. We both have midterms on Monday.”
“I thought he helped you study.”
“He’s distracting most of the time.” Josie closed the book on top as she yawned. “His tests from this class are helpful, but I’m better at conceptual math than he is. So he can only help so much.”
“That’s a good thing to have figured out.”
“I’m in love with who he is, not some fake made-up paragon.”
What did Josie know about love? Kesa felt steeped in Shannon’s scent. She wanted to take a shower and try to scrub it off because it was making it so hard to think. She’d run away like a thief in the night. How could she possibly think she knew more about love than Josie did? “I’m afraid for you, Jo-Jo.”
“I know, Key.” Josie seemed too tired to find her usual anger. “You don’t have to be Mother anymore. I’ve grown up.”
“I can’t turn it off like a light switch.”
“Are you even trying?” Josie’s slippers scuffed across the kitchen linoleum as she went to rinse out her cereal bowl and set it in the drainer.
“Yes, actually. It’s just not working.”
Josie’s mouth twisted, but a snarky retort seemed beyond her. “Do you still need help moving into your workshop? Paz could bring his car on Sunday afternoon. It’s a hatchback too.”
“You guys have to study. I can manage.” It would take her a lot of trips, but hard labor might help her sort out the waves of longing and regret—why did she hurt? She ached, deeper than her bones. “Maybe I’ll leave the machines until Monday night and you can help then. It’ll take a while to move all the fabric and supplies as it is. Plus I have to do some cutting and assembly to stay on schedule. So it can be all moving all weekend.”
Because I Said So Page 9