“Let’s stop there,” Eleanor said.
Bailey snapped her head up. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Chelsea was about to utter the same words but was glad Bailey beat her to it.
Eleanor laughed. “So now you’re the impatient one.”
“I noticed something in the diary,” Chelsea said. “I love the way you spell certain words differently from ours like ‘maneuver,’ or ‘color’ with the ‘u’ added. It’s much more poetic to read.”
“I’ve lost a lot of my British way of speaking after living in the States all these years but not so much of the British way of writing, even today. Can’t break all the old habits, nor would I want to.” Eleanor glanced at her watch. “It’s late morning. I need to take my medication and rest, but I have a wonderful idea. Let’s not meet again until Friday evening when we’ll break our pattern of early mornings. Join me for dinner.”
“Sure,” Bailey said, “but I can’t believe you’ll make us wait until then.”
“Don’t you know by now that the longer things are drawn out, the more you can savor the shared moments? What about you, Chelsea?”
Chelsea squirmed under Eleanor’s intense gaze. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it.”
“Do you have a date?” Eleanor asked.
Chelsea almost blurted out, “It’s none of your damn business.” This woman was insufferable.
“Yes.”
Bailey stiffened beside her.
“Bailey, it seems it’s just you and me. And before you ask, Doctor Parker, we may discuss my relationship with Daphne and we may not. It depends on my mood.” She rose from her chair. “I’ll see you Friday night,” she said to Bailey. “If you’d like to come Saturday afternoon, I’d be happy to talk with you, Chelsea.”
Eleanor entered her home, and Chelsea turned to Bailey. She’d already left for the front of the house. Chelsea thought of hurrying to catch up to her before she drove away, but she didn’t know what she’d say.
* * *
Chelsea approached the hostess at Lorenzo’s. “My friend might already be here. Her last name is Simmons.”
The hostess ran her finger down the list. “Yes, right this way.” She led Chelsea to the back. After noticing that all of the tables were occupied, Chelsea was glad Rebecca had made reservations.
Rebecca stood when Chelsea and the hostess approached.
“You look lovely tonight, Chelsea.” Rebecca pulled out her chair for her and sat back down.
Chelsea had debated for a half an hour on her wardrobe, switching from dressed up to casual and back to dressed up. She settled on a pair of black jeans with a mint green silk blouse tucked in and a soft leather woven belt to complete the ensemble. She tried to push from her mind that the belt had been a gift from Bailey. She’d chosen a pair of dangling earrings to match the color of the blouse, added more makeup than what she wore at school, and pushed her hair up off her neck with a gold barrette.
“You look nice, too, Rebecca.” Rebecca was more dressed up than Chelsea had ever seen her at school with a white cotton shirt, black jacket, and black slacks.
They decided to share a bottle of wine. The waiter filled their glasses and took their order.
After he left the table, Rebecca spoke. “I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, because trust me, I’m not complaining. But what made you agree to this date?”
Chelsea had to keep herself from flinching at the word “date” even though Eleanor had used that same word. She’d feigned a casual air she didn’t feel when she’d answered yes to Eleanor’s inquiry. She took a sip of wine while she pondered her response.
“I thought it would do me good to get out, and you’ve been so patient with me. I guess I thought, why not?”
Rebecca grinned and raised her glass. “Lucky me.”
The waiter brought their entrées. As they ate, they discussed their preparations for the next year, with Chelsea offering further book suggestions for Rebecca’s curriculum.
“How’s your interview going with Eleanor Burnett?”
Chelsea hesitated before responding, afraid they were about to delve into a discussion about Bailey. “Very well.”
Rebecca must have sensed it was a sensitive subject. They shifted the conversation back to school and the approaching semester until they finished their meals. Rebecca attempted to pay for the bill, but Chelsea insisted they go Dutch. They walked out to their cars, reaching Chelsea’s first.
“I had a nice time, Rebecca.”
“Would you like to follow me to my place and have one more glass of wine together?”
Chelsea hesitated.
“Or maybe a glass of water or soda,” Rebecca said with a nervous laugh.
Chelsea thought of so many reasons why it wasn’t a good idea, but she agreed.
* * *
She followed Rebecca into her small, brick, off-campus home. The living room was masculine with sports memorabilia hanging on the walls. Some framed photos caught Chelsea’s attention. She walked over to them while Rebecca went to the kitchen to get soft drinks. In one photo, a very young Rebecca was pitching in a softball game, the ball a blur as it left her hand.
“My perfect game from college,” Rebecca said, offering Chelsea a bottle of Sprite. “It’s probably egotistical of me to have it hanging up—”
“No, no. It’s not. You should be very proud.” Chelsea twisted off the lid of the bottle.
They stood staring at each other until Rebecca said, “Let’s sit down.”
They sat on the couch and grew quiet. Chelsea wondered why she’d decided to come to Rebecca’s home. Was it a test? A test for her heart? She turned to speak and found Rebecca inches from her face.
“I want to kiss you,” Rebecca said. “But I want you to tell me it’s okay.”
Was it okay? How would she know unless she allowed it to happen? She nodded. They set their drinks down.
Rebecca touched her lips to Chelsea’s. Chelsea’s mind raced. Rebecca’s mouth felt so different from Bailey’s. Rebecca ran her tongue across Chelsea’s lower lip. Chelsea opened her mouth, and they battled for dominance as Rebecca eased her back onto the couch and rubbed her thumb across Chelsea’s nipple.
Chelsea moaned at the contact. It’d been so long since a woman had touched her like this. Rebecca undid the first two buttons of Chelsea’s blouse and inched her hand inside, enclosing Chelsea’s breast in her palm. She plucked Chelsea’s nipple, and it grew even harder. Chelsea wasn’t aware that Rebecca had unbuttoned her blouse more until Rebecca withdrew from the kiss and pressed her mouth against the pulse point of Chelsea’s neck on her way down her chest. She pushed Chelsea’s bra up to free her breast, captured her nipple between her lips, and nibbled at it lightly with her teeth. A gush of wetness soaked Chelsea’s panties, and she arched up into Rebecca’s embrace.
Bailey. God, Bailey, it’s been so long. Chelsea tried to imagine it was Bailey’s mouth on her, possessing her as she had all those times.
Rebecca unclasped her belt. The belt Bailey had bought her in Madrid. Chelsea grabbed Rebecca’s hand and stilled it.
“Come on, Chelsea, I can tell how much you want this.”
That sounded too much like a line from a teenager trying to score. Chelsea opened her eyes, jarred even more into reality with seeing the contrast between Rebecca’s dark hair and Bailey’s sandy blonde. I can’t do this.
“Stop. Please stop.”
Rebecca sat up. “Are you sure?”
Chelsea nodded. She reached down, tugged her bra back into place, and straightened her belt. She began buttoning her blouse.
“Wow,” Rebecca said. “Okay. I read you wrong, I guess.” She seemed miffed from her expression and the tightness of her tone.
Chelsea stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry I let it get that far.” She walked to the door. Rebecca came up behind her and reached for the doorknob. In making the move, her arm brushed against Chelsea’s overly sensitive nipple. Chelsea bit her lip to keep from gasping aloud.
“I understand,” Rebecca said as she opened the door.
Chelsea stepped down the stairs.
“But if you ever get over her, I’m still interested.”
Chelsea faltered in her gait before continuing to her car. She threw her purse on the passenger seat, slammed the door behind her, and slapped her palms against the steering wheel.
“Damn it, Bailey, this is all your fault.”
* * *
“I’m afraid only five minutes have passed since you last checked, my dear.”
Bailey thought she was being discreet, but Eleanor had caught her glancing at the clock. They were sitting at Eleanor’s dining room table, playing another round of five hundred rummy.
“And if you don’t pay better attention, you’ll owe me another quarter.” Eleanor picked up the discarded ten, laid down four of them, and tossed her last card into the pile.
“Crap.” Bailey grabbed the pad of paper. She tallied the cards in her hand and subtracted from her total. “I think that put you over the top. Again.”
Eleanor went to the refrigerator. “I used to drink these warm, but Daph got me in the habit of chilling them the American way.” She reached inside and brought over two bottles of Landlord Strong Pale Ale. “Here. Twist these open for us,” she said, handing Bailey the bottles. “I think this is much better for you than that silly Coke you’re drinking.”
Niles appeared at the entryway to the dining room. “If you don’t need me, madam, I’ll be off to bed.” He glanced at the two bottles of beer, but his professional expression remained firmly in place.
“We’re fine, Niles. I have it in hand.”
After he left, Bailey twisted off both lids and held her bottle up to the light. “Why do I think this will knock me on my arse, as you British like to say?”
“I don’t know. You seem like you’re capable of handling yourself.” Eleanor clinked her bottle against Bailey’s. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
“Have you thought of phoning her later?”
“Who?” Bailey was beginning to love Eleanor even more as she watched her tilt back her bottle.
“Please don’t insult my intelligence and pretend you don’t know the person I’m talking about.”
Bailey took a drag of her beer. “I don’t think calling her would be too smart.”
“It might be an even better idea than what you’re thinking.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
Eleanor leaned her elbows on the table, her expression intense. “Because her heart wasn’t in this date tonight.”
Bailey wanted to believe what Eleanor was saying, but too much insecurity had piled up brick by brick over the past eleven months. “And you can tell this by her declaration that, yes, she had a date.”
“Let’s say I do have a few more years of experience living with the same woman in a relationship than the two of you. Chelsea’s struggling. Struggling to move on in her life, attempting to latch onto someone or something else, but I’m telling you that it won’t happen.”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me how you know this.”
Eleanor scowled at Bailey. “English ale brings out the smart-ass in you, doesn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’m scared to put myself out there. It was so painful when we split up.”
“Daphne was a lot like Chelsea. She sometimes was afraid of her own shadow, as if she couldn’t believe we had the happiness we shared. That maybe we didn’t deserve it. She pulled a lot of stupid stunts because of her fear.”
“How did you overcome that?” Bailey asked.
“Initially, I confronted her about her indiscretions. She’d never been in anything close to a lasting relationship. She’d had numerous brief affairs. We got past those, and when I thought we had smooth sailing, she got married.” The same look of pain flickered over Eleanor’s face. “Although you and I could talk about this in more depth, I do want to be fair with Chelsea, even though I love to tease her so.”
Bailey glanced at her watch. “It’s 10:30. I should go.” She finished off her beer. “This is excellent, by the way.”
“I don’t drink very often. Only special occasions, and this is one of them. There’s a college pub in town that carries this ale. I have them drive a case out to me every six months or so.”
They rose from the table.
“Can I give you a hug?” Bailey asked. She knew it wasn’t the most professional thing to do in her line of work, but she felt she’d already crossed the line between professional and personal behavior.
Eleanor held out her arms. “It’ll be all right. Please promise me you’ll call her tonight.”
“I don’t know. It’s late.”
They withdrew from the embrace. Eleanor gripped Bailey’s chin—a little forcibly. “Don’t make me get ugly.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Eleanor walked her to the door and waved when Bailey drove away.
Bailey pulled to a stop at the end of the drive. She unclipped her cell phone from her belt and stared at the lit display as she debated about following through. She punched in Chelsea’s number. She may have removed it from her speed dial, but she hadn’t forgotten it.
“Hello? Bailey?”
Bailey sucked in her breath. “Chels, hey. Um… how are you?” She grimaced. Lame, lame, lame.
“I’m fine.” There was a slight pause. “You’re not checking up on me, are you?”
“No, no. Absolutely not. I… I …” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry I called.” Bailey was about to hang up, but Chelsea’s voice stopped her.
“Wait. It’s okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I’m glad you still care enough to see how I’m doing.”
“Of course I still care. I’ve never stopped caring.” Bailey chewed on her lower lip as she thought of telling Chelsea she’d never stopped loving her. There was silence, broken up with a few sniffles. “Chels? You’re not crying, are you?”
“Maybe.” Another loud sniff.
Bailey wanted to be there with her and hold her. She took a breath of courage. “Can I come over?” She awaited Chelsea’s answer, every muscle taut with tension.
“I’m not sure that would be such a good idea.”
Bailey slumped in her seat. “Sure, sure. I understand.”
“It’s very sweet of you, but I’m a mess right now and need some time to regroup.”
Bailey stiffened. “Did she hurt you?”
“No, she didn’t hurt me.” Chelsea laughed softly. “Still the protector, huh?”
“I don’t ever want to see you hurt.”
“I’m fine, really. The date didn’t end well, but I’m okay. How about I see you tomorrow afternoon at Eleanor’s like we originally agreed?”
“As long as you’re okay.” Bailey listened for any change in Chelsea’s voice to tell her Chelsea wasn’t being honest.
“Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
“Good night, Bailey.”
“Chels?”
“Yes?”
“Never mind. Good night.”
Bailey shut her phone and pulled onto the state road. Maybe Eleanor really did know what she was talking about.
Chelsea set the phone on the end table. She lifted her legs onto the couch and brought her glass of wine with her. She rolled the glass back and forth between her fingers.
Bailey called. A slight smile tugged at her lips. Bailey called, and Chelsea liked it. She took a sip of wine. The warmth of the liquid slid down her throat as she allowed the thought to sink into her consciousness.