Greene wasn’t sure what she was happiest about after Joanna finished that speech. She stared into those baby blues and ran her hands through Joanna’s light hair that was down. Joanna had used the word love. She hadn’t said those three special words or anything, but she loved parts of Greene, and that was a start.
“Jo?”
“Yes?”
“Tonight, when we get back to the hotel, can we turn our phones off and spend your last night here together?”
“We already planned–”
“I mean together.”
“Oh,” Joanna replied, and her hands were now on the back of Greene’s neck, running soft fingers over the tiny hairs there.
“I want to make love to you.” Greene pulled the woman in and whispered in her ear. “I want to touch you all night.”
“So, no more waiting?” Joanna asked into Greene’s ear.
“No more waiting.”
CHAPTER 19
Greene was nervous as she heard the beep of the hotel door accepting her card key. The mechanism clicked, indicating that it was unlocked. They’d enjoyed a day of exploration in between her work activities. They’d finished their evening out with dinner at a small Italian restaurant on the water. It was after nine when they finally returned to the room.
“How about a shower, and I can order us a movie and make us some drinks or something?” Greene suggested when they entered.
“You don’t want to join me?” Joanna asked suggestively as she tugged on Greene’s hands toward the bedroom. “Or we can take a nice, long bath together. You can lie behind me and be naked. I can also be naked.”
“That’s an option? You, me… naked in a bathtub?” she asked.
Her phone rang in her pocket, and she scolded herself for not turning it off the moment she’d left the rehearsal room. She pulled it out and squinted at it when she saw her mother was calling.
“Who is it?”
“My mom. She’s supposed to be on a plane.” She glanced at Joanna. “Maybe it’s a good thing, and they got caught up and aren’t coming in after all.” She accepted the call and offered Joanna two crossed fingers to provide them luck. “Mom?”
“Macon, we’re here.”
“Here where?” she asked.
“Boston. Your father and I are here. We caught an earlier flight.”
“What happened to the luncheon you couldn’t miss?” Greene asked, feeling her heart speed up, and not at all for the right reason.
“It was rained out. Someone didn’t plan on the weather, and it was outside with no tents. Who does that?”
“I don’t know, Mom. So, did you guys just land, or–”
“No, we’re in the lobby of your hotel. We changed ours to this one.”
“What? Why? You’re at the Camden.”
“We were at the Camden. But this is a sister property, and your father has discovered that we still get points here because of it. I guess Camden bought out this brand. I don’t know, Macon. We’re downstairs. We just need your room number. We’re in room ten-fifteen.”
“It’s late, Mom. Why don’t we just have breakfast tomorrow? I just got in, and I’m exhausted.” She gave Joanna what she hoped was an apologetic expression.
Joanna leaned in, kissed her cheek, and pointed to the bathroom. Greene wasn’t sure if she had to go or if she wanted to give Greene some privacy.
“We’re just going to say goodnight. Your father could use a drink. Bourbon helps him sleep. The minibars have that here, right?”
“I don’t know. Have him order from the bar or something, Mom.”
“I’ll have him get one. But do you want one, too, or do you want something else? A beer, maybe?” she said that last part with a little bit of disgust in her voice. “I’m getting a martini. Why don’t you just meet us down here? We’ll sit and drink. Then, we’ll leave you alone.”
Greene had three choices: she could allow her parents entry into her room; she could go down to the bar herself and save Jo from the meeting tonight, but then would have to explain to her parents why she’d done that tomorrow; or she could go down to the bar with her girlfriend, have a quick drink with her parents, and come back upstairs.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you down there.”
“We’re checking in. Your father just got the key. We’ll go up to our room and freshen up. We–”
“Freshen up? Mom, you said a quick drink.”
“And it will be. I’m exhausted, too, Macon. But your parents just flew across the country to see you. The least you could do is give us fifteen minutes to get settled and meet us for one drink.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” She ended the call before her mother had a chance to make her agree to anything else, and went in search of her girlfriend who, it turned out, was sitting on the bed, staring at her own phone. “Hey, sorry.”
“Where are you going in a minute?” Joanna asked, obviously hearing the whole conversation, or at least Greene’s side of it.
“My mom wants me to meet them at the bar for a quick drink.”
“Oh.” Joanna sat the phone on the bedside table and turned back to her. “I can hold off on the whole bath thing until you get back.”
“Or, you could come with me?” Greene asked.
“You sure?”
“If you don’t come tonight, they’re just going to wonder where I was hiding you tomorrow, when you do meet.”
“I don’t have to meet them at all, remember? It’s up to you, Macon. I don’t want you to feel pressured just because I surprised you here.”
Greene walked around to Joanna’s side of the bed and sat on the edge. She took her hand, lifted it to her mouth, and kissed each knuckle individually.
“This is not how I planned on us spending the rest of our night.”
“I know.” Joanna ran her hand through Greene’s hair. “But it’s okay. Honestly, I’m fine with whatever you decide.”
“If I say I really want you to come meet them because I’ve never introduced them to anyone and I like the idea of you being the first, and they treat you like a second-class citizen, am I going to pay for that later?”
Joanna laughed and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Greene’s.
“That depends: will you be defending my honor or throwing me to the wolves?”
“Defending, of course.”
“Then, you will not be paying for it later.” Joanna kissed her nose. “Let’s go get this part out of the way. I think I can hold my own against your mom.”
“Maybe you can. She’s not your mom, so she can’t do the parental guilt thing with you.”
“You’re so cute.” Joanna pecked Greene’s lips. “My big, bad girlfriend is afraid of her mommy.”
“Oh, just you wait, Joanna Isabella.”
◆◆◆
Joanna and Macon sat at the hotel bar at a table for four. Unfortunately, it was only the two of them so far. They’d been sitting downstairs for twenty minutes now, and she was starting to think they’d been stood up.
“I’m sorry,” Macon said for at least the fifth time. “Let’s just go back upstairs. I’ll text them it’s too late.” She reached for her phone.
“Babe, it’s fine. We can wait.” She took Macon’s hand under the table.
“I can’t believe they’re making us wait like this.”
“Macon, let’s just give them five more minutes, okay?” Joanna requested.
“I’m at least getting you a drink. Me trying to be polite and waiting for them is over.” She stood. “Rum and Coke?”
“No, just water. I don’t feel like alcohol.”
“Are you sure? You’ll need it.” Macon gave her an expression that said she knew what she was talking about. “I’m getting a shot and a beer. I’m going to finish both of those, then I’ll get a glass of wine or a more appropriate drink according to my mother; like a dry martini. I’ll sip on that until we end this little meetup.” She was still holding onto Joanna’s hand even though she was st
anding. She ran her thumb over it. “Are you sure you only want water?”
“How about I just sip on that martini with you so we can finish it faster?”
“Macon?”
“Mom, hi,” Macon greeted a woman who had come up behind her and was standing next to a man Joanna assumed to be her father. Her mother looked like a shorter and slightly heavier, but not by much, version of Macon. Her eyes weren’t as bright. Her hair was slightly darker. Her skin was also just a touch on the darker side, which led Joanna to believe that this was the Italian half of her parentage. “Dad,” she greeted her father.
“Hi, honey.” Her dad was only slightly taller than Macon, and he reached out his hand for a shake, which Joanna thought a little strange.
“Hi,” Macon replied, shook his hand, and then looked to her mother, who did, in fact, hug her daughter. “Hi, Mom.”
“Sorry, we’re a little late. I had to hang up a few things for this week, and one of my dresses was already wrinkled, so I wanted to iron it before we came down.”
“You could have called and told us you’d be late,” Macon suggested.
“Us?” Macon’s mom asked. It was then that she noticed Joanna, who had stood up behind Macon. “Hello?”
“Mom, Dad, this is Joanna.” She reached for Joanna’s hand. “My girlfriend.”
“Oh,” her mother said.
“Girlfriend?” her father asked. “Did we know you were seeing someone?” “Hello, dear,” he greeted Joanna, and his tone was a little more forgiving than Macon’s mother’s.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Joanna told them with a smile and held out her hand for them to shake.
Macon’s father took it first. His handshake was firm, like he used it for business and didn’t know how to adjust it for personal encounters. Macon’s mother was very clearly giving her a once-over.
“How long have you two been together?” her mother asked and went to sit down at one of the chairs without so much as an introduction to Joanna. “Do you live in Boston?” she asked Joanna, who sat down alongside Macon and immediately took Macon’s hand into her lap, because she needed to be touching her girlfriend now for encouragement.
“Mom, calm down. We’ve been together for–” She stopped, and Joanna met her eyes. “How long have we been together?” She laughed.
“You don’t know how long you’ve been a couple?” her father asked as he sat down. “Is there a waiter here or do I have to go to the bar to get a drink?” He seemed to be asking no one in particular, and then waved his arm to the bartender in that way that often drove Joanna crazy.
“It’s not like that; we’ve known each other for over a year. I’ve talked about her to you guys before,” Macon said.
“We’ve heard about Keira and Hillary. And I remember someone else with a K name. Kelly?” her mom asked.
“Kellan; she moved to Lake Tahoe to be with her girlfriend,” Macon explained. “And Joanna; I’ve mentioned her a lot over the past year or so.”
“Joanna? The photographer?” her dad chimed in just as the bartender approached, seeming a little out of place beyond the safe confines of his wooden bar. “I’ll take a Macallan 18; neat. My wife will have a Bombay Sapphire martini; perfect.”
“With olives on the side,” Macon’s mother requested.
“Macon?” Her father looked at Macon.
“Oh. Jo?” Macon asked Joanna.
“A water for me, thanks.”
“Water?” her mother questioned.
“I’m feeling a little dehydrated; we walked a lot today,” she replied and then gulped at the stare Macon’s mother gave her, as if she was wondering if she was an alcoholic and lying about it.
“She’ll have a Pellegrino then,” Macon’s mother ordered for her.
“Mom, she’ll have whatever water she wants. Jo, tap?”
“Yeah.” Joanna loved Macon even more in that moment; not for telling her mother off, but for knowing her well enough that she’d want simple tap water tonight and nothing complicated.
“I’ll have a–”
“Please don’t say a beer, Macon Sage,” her father said. “At least not in your mother’s presence, or I’ll have to hear about how uncivilized our daughter is all night.”
“What if it’s a French beer? Is that better?” Macon directed at her mother.
“Lord, Macon.” She turned to the bartender. “She’ll have what I’m having.”
“I’ll just have a water,” Macon said. “Like my girlfriend, Joanna, who is sitting right here and is meeting you two for the very first time. You could at least pretend you care.”
“I’ll get your drinks.” The bartender seemed all too interested in leaving this conversation.
“He could have asked if we wanted pretzels or something. We should have just stayed at the Camden,” she said to her husband and then looked at Macon. “And, honey, it’s not exactly like we were prepared to meet your friend tonight. You don’t tell us anything about…” she hesitated, “that part of your life.”
“She was my friend, Mom. But now, she’s my girlfriend; we’re a couple.”
“A couple that doesn’t know when they started dating?”
“It was six weeks ago.” Joanna leaned forward. “It was right before she left on tour. We’d been dancing around it for a while, I think. It took us both realizing it was more than friendship, and when we finally admitted it, it felt right.” She turned to make sure Macon agreed, and when Macon smiled back and squeezed her hand under the table, Joanna knew she did. “Your daughter is one of a kind.”
“We know that, dear. She’s always been the most talented violinist in–” her mother started.
“No,” Joanna interrupted. “That’s not what I mean.” She made sure her glare gave away that she wasn’t done. “Macon is a remarkably gifted violinist. But, to me, that’s the least important thing about her.” She took her hand from Macon’s and placed it on the back of Macon’s neck instead. She knew it might be too much, but she didn’t care. “She is beautiful, and I don’t just mean in the obvious way.” She smiled at Macon. “She’s so sweet. She brings me lunch because she knows I forget to eat sometimes. She helped me figure out that I wanted to leave my old job and do photography full-time. She inspires me and makes me laugh. She challenges me. I’m better because I know her.” She rubbed Macon’s neck and watched her eyes close, but only briefly before she seemed to remember she was sitting in front of her parents.
“Well, that’s nice,” her father said as the bartender arrived, carrying their drinks.
“So, a new relationship then?” Macon’s mother asked. “And you’ve been on tour since then? Did she go with you?”
“No, Mom. She didn’t. She just came to Boston for the weekend. She surprised me.” She placed her hand on Joanna’s thigh.
Macon’s father passed the martini to his wife as the bartender left the water glasses in front of Macon and Joanna.
“And things are good?” her father asked and took a long drink, as if needing the burning liquid to recharge his batteries and go on.
“Things are great,” Joanna replied for her. “We haven’t had a lot of time together, obviously, since she’s been away, but I’m very happy.”
“And you don’t mind her going on tour?” her mother asked in an accusing tone.
“No, I don’t. I miss her. I’ll miss her when I leave tomorrow, because she won’t be back for another week and a half, but I want her to be happy. If she wants to go on tours, then I want that for her, too.”
“She should be touring more; at least six months out of the year, Macon.” She turned to her daughter and drank half of her martini in one gulp before she tossed an olive into the drink and ate another one from the small dish of five or six the bartender had provided. “Maybe even nine months. You need an agent at this point, since this tour has been so successful. It can be hard on a relationship,” she added, “to be with someone who isn’t around much.”
“Well, I’m a photograph
er, so I can always grab my camera and go with her,” Joanna fired back.
“And you make good money at that? What do you photograph?”
“Mom!” Macon exclaimed.
“It’s okay.” Joanna laughed. “I have my own business. I do everything myself, and that means I have no employees to pay, so that’s helpful. I’m really just getting started though, but I make ends meet fine. I had a gallery show a while ago and sold some prints. I mostly shoot weddings, newborns, and families.”
“She’s being modest,” Macon said. “She does that stuff, but she also does a lot of urban photography. She just walks around and sees things no one else does, captures it, takes it home, and edits it into something amazing. She goes on hikes sometimes and does the same with nature photography. I have one of her flower prints in my apartment.”
“Editing? Isn’t the point of photography to take the picture so that it’s perfect and leave it at that?” Macon’s father asked, but Joanna didn’t sense that he meant anything offensive in his tone.
“That’s the goal. But, sometimes, it can be fun to manipulate them, too; take something you shot in color and make it black and white or crop something out that was just on the edge.”
“I guess that makes sense.” He drained his glass, and Joanna noticed Macon’s mother’s glass was also empty.
“So, you and Macon will just travel the world together then?”
“Mom, the tour is ending. I’m going home soon.”
“I know. But there will be another one, Macon. I’m sure they’ll be reaching back out to you soon to schedule the next.”
“I have a contract with the orchestra, Mom. I have to finish that, and then I’ll think about what I want to do next. Right now, I just want to get home. I miss it there, and I miss Joanna.”
“Yes, but Macon, your career–”
“Is fine the way it is, Mom. We’ve had this discussion a million times. We’ve been having it since I was sixteen years old. I wanted to stay in high school like a normal kid, and you wanted to ship me off to Julliard.”
“You were never a normal kid, Macon,” she argued.
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