Chapter Fourteen

An insistent beep from the bathroom woke Tessa. The sun was up and she could hear voices downstairs. Laya and Eleanor.

Eleanor. Tessa pulled the covers up and buried her head under a pillow. The reason she hadn’t slept well came rushing back to her, and she groaned a little, feeling like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally as she tried on the sound for size. Felt good. Her BlackBerry, charging in the bathroom, repeated its adamant alert, and she groaned again. Maybe Eleanor had left her a message saying she quit, or that she was pressing charges for sexual harassment. Tessa had nearly gotten up a hundred times during the night to go to her, but each time the urge struck, she reminded herself that Eleanor was the one who had pulled away.

Flopping onto her back, Tessa pulled the pillow over her head again, blotting out the sunlight streaming in the window. Why did it always have to be sunny? She was sick of unrelenting sunshine that seemed to demand unceasing positivity. When she was a kid, she’d enjoyed the luxury of moping on days when the clouds, indistinguishable from one another, formed a solid wall of gray that somehow matched the lump in her chest that had materialized the day the woman police officer came to tell her about her parents.

For some reason, whenever something upset her she ended up going back to the day when everything changed. That last morning, she had awakened to a world where she was safe and both of her parents were alive and loved her. But by the end of the day, she was sleeping in a bed among strangers in a women’s shelter, waiting for Child Protective Services to find her someplace to live. Both sets of grandparents lived overseas, and Tessa had never met or even spoken to either. None of her mother’s friends stepped forward to claim her. Maybe they were afraid of interacting with the authorities. Most of the men and women her parents knew were immigrants too, at least some among them probably in the U.S. illegally. Not one of them had come forward to offer her sanctuary.

Enough, Tessa told herself, casting the pillow to the floor. Enough drama. Time to get up and see who had called this early on a vacation morning.

As soon as she unlocked the BlackBerry screen, a cold feeling wormed its way into her belly. Five voice mails and three text messages. That could not be good. For some reason, she thought of Eleanor. Had something…? The ghost of Nadine flickered into her mind, but she shook her head. Eleanor was nothing like Nadine.

The first text message was from Michael and said only, “Call me—red flag day.” Their code for major scandal. The second text was from Melody, her publicist, and echoed the need to talk ASAP. Christ, Tessa thought, running a hand over her sleep-tangled hair. She had to get to her computer and check the news. Had someone found out about her past? And if so, how?

Skipping the rest of the messages (none were from Eleanor), Tessa pulled on sweats and a clean tank top and jogged downstairs barefoot. Eleanor was in the kitchen at the stove, while Laya perched on a stool at the island. When she saw Tessa, she jumped down and launched herself through the air. “Mom!”

Tessa caught her and swallowed back her impatience with difficulty. It wasn’t Laya’s fault that a crisis had arisen in the night. “Hi, baby. How are you?”

“Awesome. Eleanor made pancakes.”

“I see that,” Tessa said. She waited a moment, then steeled herself. “Good morning, Eleanor.”

“Morning. You might want to check the laptop,” Eleanor said without taking her attention from a pair of flapjacks heating in a skillet.

Tessa reached past Laya and opened Eleanor’s laptop where it sat on the kitchen island. Slowly the screen returned from sleep mode, and Tessa stared in mingled horror and fascination at the browser window open to People.com and a large color image of her and Eleanor in a tranquil pool, a gorgeous waterfall behind them, looking for all the world as if they were about to kiss. Beneath the image ran the headline, “Who Is She?” The intimate expression in both of their eyes, fixed indelibly in digital pixels, mesmerized her more than the headline. The look made the image almost more damning than if they had been caught in an actual kiss.

She closed the laptop, but not before Laya had seen the photo.

“You look so happy!” she said. She was used to seeing Tessa’s and her own picture online and in print, and seemed to accept as a given that Eleanor should appear there as well.

“We do, don’t we, sweets.” And all at once, it didn’t seem to matter why Eleanor had backed off the night before. Tessa clearly wasn’t alone in her feelings. Film didn’t lie. Well, actually, it often did. Just not this time. “Are you done with breakfast, baby?” she asked. “Elle and I need to talk.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eleanor shoot a quick look in her direction, the first since she’d entered the kitchen.

“I’m done,” Laya said, frowning now. “Did I do something bad?”

Tessa knelt down so that their faces were level. “No, we just need to have a private, grown-up conversation. Could you go play in your room for a few minutes? I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, chief,” her daughter said solemnly, then turned and ran for the stairs.

Straightening again, Tessa leaned against the kitchen island, arms folded across her chest. For her, appearing on a Web site to millions of viewers was nothing new, but for Eleanor it probably felt as if she’d awakened this morning to an alternate reality. Tessa wanted to go to her, wanted nothing more than to slip her arms around her and tell her everything would be okay, but the night before still hung between them.

“So?” she said, and waited as Eleanor turned off the burner and set the last of the pancakes on an already overflowing plate.

“So.” Eleanor turned at last to face her, eyes seeming to focus somewhere just beyond her left ear.

“We should talk this out, don’t you think?” she prompted. “After all, we are lesbians,” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

Eleanor frowned. “Are you? A lesbian, I mean?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you knew that.”

“You were a little vague the other day.”

“Oh. Well, yes I am,” Tessa joked, quoting Melissa Etheridge. As Eleanor stared levelly at her, she ducked her head. “I know, it’s not funny. I’m sorry. For everything, actually.”

Eleanor squinted at her. “You’re not angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you?” John Alvarez at Kipu Falls Ranch, on the other hand, had some explaining to do. Or, more likely, his hired hand Christian.

“You should read the article. Sasha called me this morning to find out why I’d been holding out on her. Apparently their source is quoted as saying that we were talking openly about being a couple. Seems there’s a video too.”

There was always a video. Tessa tried to seriously consider what it meant that the press was covering their supposed love affair. But all she felt was relief—she wouldn’t have to hide this part of her life anymore. There was still her past to worry about, but this was one secret she would be more than happy to relinquish.

“Honestly,” she said, “it’s fine. I’m out of acting, and even if I wasn’t, I’m tired of hiding who I am. I haven’t been in a serious relationship in years because every time I came close, the person either didn’t want to deal with my closet or turned out to be someone I couldn’t trust.” Person slipped out—she meant woman, but the habit of hiding her sexuality was deeply ingrained. Not anymore, she thought as a new sense of freedom overtook her. Holy shit. She’d been outed.

“I thought you would hate me,” Eleanor said. “Especially after last night.”

“Hate you? What kind of crack are you smoking?” She wanted to say more, but her BlackBerry beeped. Michael. Not to mention Melody, Will and Margot. “Look, I have to make some calls, and then I think we need to pack up and head home. My house is the only place equipped to repel the paparazzi invasion this photo has probably already launched.”

“Of course, whatever you think.”

“Good,” Tessa said. “Okay.” She hesitated. She wanted to ask Eleanor what the look on her face in the photo meant, wanted to find out why she’d pulled away the night before. But talking would have to wait until they were safely ensconced behind the gates of her house in L.A. Bloody press, she thought for easily the thousandth time in her adult life. And yet, thanks to the AP, her closet door was now wide open. Maybe there was a reason this was all happening now.

Eleanor reached out and touched her shoulder. “Everything will be all right,” she said, the warmth of her hand seeping through Tessa’s tank top.

Tessa couldn’t remember the last time someone had tried to reassure her. She nodded. “I know.”

Twelve hours later, Eleanor stood alone in the dimly lit family room in Tessa’s Hollywood home, staring unseeingly at the wall of books on either side of the glowing gas fireplace. That morning she’d awakened before dawn in the guest room at Mele Honu’ala, and now as the last bit of daylight leaked from the sky, she was back in L.A. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the displacement of air travel.

That morning, while Tessa made travel arrangements and discussed strategy with her agent and publicist, Eleanor had entertained Laya and cleaned the house, even though Tessa had insisted the cleaning crew would take care of it. Picking up kept her occupied, and anyway, Eleanor’s only experience with a house cleaner had come during her mother’s bouts with chemo when Sarah was too rundown to keep the house as pristine as her lowered immune system required. Chapins didn’t pay strangers to pick up after them.

By early afternoon, their bags had been packed and the jet ready to take them back to the mainland. On the way back to L.A., Eleanor had stayed on her side of the cabin and pretended to sleep. In reality, every time she looked at Tessa, the memory of their make-out session came rushing back. Had it really happened? And had their picture really made People? A ranting message from Sasha on her voice mail that morning had informed her of their unwitting public display of affection. Ironically, she’d turned her phone on in order to call Sasha and rehash the previous evening’s incident.

The photo itself was fairly innocent, she’d told Sasha when she saw it. And the video didn’t show anything at all. She could almost hear her friend’s eyes rolling over the telephone line.

“It’s not what you’re doing, Elle,” she’d said with exaggerated patience. “It’s how you’re looking at each other, as if you’re in the climactic scene of a romantic comedy. Or tragedy, maybe.”

“Thanks for the optimism.”

“Just calling it like I see it.” Sasha paused. “Although in this case, I suppose I might be a little jealous.”

Given that a large percentage of straight women confessed to fantasizing about Tessa, Eleanor wasn’t surprised by this admission. Like many Smithies, especially those who had close lesbian friends, Sasha had spent a semester toward the end of college kissing girls. Or, rather, kissing one classmate specifically—Paige Thomas, now a successful journalist working for the Washington Post. Although technically a “hasbian,” her roommate still occasionally admitted a latent attraction to women.

Before they hung up, Sasha had told her that Tessa would probably want to return to L.A. immediately. Forewarned, she hadn’t been surprised when Tessa said they had to go, though the warmth in her eyes this morning had taken Eleanor aback, as had the apology. She’d thought that Tessa would almost certainly distance herself again, given what had happened the night before combined with her public outing. But she hadn’t. At least, not yet. Eleanor supposed there was still time. They’d just gotten back from the Burbank airport, and Tessa had asked her to wait while she put Laya to bed so that they could discuss strategies for handling “the situation.”

Eleanor still couldn’t believe that she was the subject of tabloid speculation. Turning from the bookshelves, she opened her cell phone and scrolled through the as-yet unanswered text and voice mail messages stored there. Quite a few of her friends and family had taken note of the image blasted worldwide by the AP. Had Laurie? Not that she cared. Really. In the morning, she promised herself, she’d make some calls. After all, no matter what was or wasn’t happening between her and Tessa, her current life was temporary. These experiences were on loan only.

That was one of the reasons she’d been reluctant to leave Kauai. There, on vacation, she could pretend that this was how life would always be, just her and Tessa and Laya finding ways to pass their days together: bird-watching at the wildlife refuge, reading in the sun beside the lagoon, building sand castles and playing Frisbee on the beach. She’d felt so at peace there (if you didn’t count the previous night’s incident), but she doubted the feeling would carry over to L.A. Especially not given their current situation.

“I thought we were beyond all this,” Tessa said from behind her. “I retired so we could have a shot at a normal life. So that Laya wouldn’t have to grow up like this.”

Eleanor closed her phone. Tessa was still in the jeans and tank top she’d worn on the plane, her hair pulled back in a loose French braid. Her face was drawn, dark smudges visible beneath her eyes. Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. She’d thought Christian, the guide, might be trouble. She should have kept a closer eye on him.

“I’m sorry,” she offered as Tessa moved toward her.

“It’s not your fault.” She stopped a few feet away. “The thing is, I’m not sure you going back to Sasha’s tonight is such a good idea. I think you should probably just stay here.”

Eleanor’s pulse sped up at the insidious image that popped into her head: the two of them entwined in bed, naked. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, the gate is being watched. If you try to leave, someone will follow you back to Sasha’s and then she’ll be involved too. It might be easier if you stay in the carriage house until all of this subsides.”

The carriage house, where Ama and Dani had lived. Her pulse slowed to normal. “Of course. Whatever you think.”

“Shouldn’t take too long,” Tessa added, her tone distinctly cynical. “Hollywood scandals have a half-life of about a week. Odds are someone else will steal the headlines sooner rather than later. We’ll still have to be careful after that, but the initial blood-in-the-water frenzy should pass pretty quickly.”

“Right,” Eleanor said.

“Okay, then.” Tessa hesitated. “I am sorry, Elle. This is going to get a lot nastier before it gets better. Right now they don’t know who you are, but it’s just a matter of time before someone figures it out. And then… Have you seen the movie Notting Hill?”

Eleanor smiled crookedly. “I’m Hugh Grant, aren’t I?”

“I can honestly say I’m thankful you’re not. But this is much bigger than that movie made it seem. Once the press figures out who you are, you’re going to be the subject of a massive amount of scrutiny, as will your family, friends, former colleagues, supposed buddies from high school whose names you don’t even remember. By the time this blows over, you just might hate me.”

Eleanor stared at her. “That won’t ever happen.”

“I hope not.” Tessa turned away. “Anyway, the carriage house should be all set. Ama left clean sheets on the bed. Let me just get you the key.”

Eleanor watched her rummage through a kitchen drawer. All day Tessa had seemed smaller, vulnerable somehow, unlike her normal competent, confident self. Was it the paparazzi assault, or could it have something to do with the night before? People at least seemed to think Tessa was harboring romantic feelings toward her.

“Here it is.” Tessa came back into the family room and held out a sand dollar key ring.

Eleanor reached out to take it, but instead her hand closed around Tessa’s. “Hey.”

Tessa watched her, eyes luminous in the light from the gas fire. “What?”

If she wasn’t Tessa Flanagan, Eleanor thought, what would she do? This—she tugged Tessa toward her. “I won’t ever hate you,” she said again, holding her close.

After a moment, Tessa’s arms slid around her waist. She was only a few inches shorter, but the difference meant her head fit perfectly under Eleanor’s chin. Eleanor felt Tessa’s shoulders sag, the breath leave her body in a long sigh, and they stood in the quiet room together, the only movement the gas flame flickering behind the glass fireplace screen.

Tessa leaned against Eleanor, too exhausted to think. All day she’d been on the go, from the moment her BlackBerry had awakened her with its insistent beckons until a few minutes before, when she’d tucked Laya into bed and kissed her goodnight. She’d come downstairs intending to explain to Eleanor how these sorts of situations worked, to let her know that Melody would try to nip this whole thing in the bud before her reputation got too trashed. Instead, she found herself finagling a way to keep Eleanor close.

True, having her stay in the carriage house was probably the best way to minimize her exposure to the uglier side of life with an A-lister. But that wasn’t why Tessa had suggested it. In actuality, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Once Eleanor stepped foot outside the gate, it would be nearly impossible to get her back in. At least, not until some other joker grabbed headlines and the whole crazy episode passed.

Tessa hid her face against Eleanor’s neck and closed her eyes. She still didn’t know why Eleanor had pulled away the night before, but at this point, she would take what she could get. Being held felt too good.

But Eleanor was pulling away again, and Tessa opened her eyes. What…? Then Eleanor’s lips met hers and they were kissing, and Tessa was twining her arms around Eleanor’s neck and pulling her closer. As their tongues met, Tessa forgot to be tired. She had wanted this for so long. Needed it, even.

When a sound from the patio caught her attention, it was Tessa’s turn to break away mid-kiss. “Did you hear that?” she asked, staring through the picture windows out onto the floodlit patio and pool area. The alarm was set. In theory, they would know if someone made it onto the grounds.

“I think it was just the wind,” Eleanor said, her voice unsteady.

Tessa turned back to her, closing her fist over the carriage house key. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

In answer, Eleanor led her to the love seat and kissed her again. They stayed like that for what might have been hours but was probably only a matter of minutes, side by side on the love seat exploring each other’s lips and skin, shirts and bras cast aside so that they could lie breast to breast. When they finally came up for air, Tessa rested her head on Eleanor’s shoulder and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” she murmured back.

“Then stay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

It was that easy. They shrugged back into their shirts, pocketed their bras and headed upstairs together, Tessa leading the way. She could feel Eleanor close behind her, and she could also feel her heart beating nearly double-time. It couldn’t be nerves, could it? She’d been with her fair share of women since she’d figured out her first year in L.A. why her crushes always seemed to be on women. But it had been a while since she’d been with someone she knew as well as she now knew Eleanor. Usually she relied on brief hook-ups with near strangers for a release of pent-up tension, like the woman she’d slept with at her ex-girlfriend’s wedding in New York the previous fall.

Soon they were passing Laya’s partially closed bedroom door and padding quietly down the carpeted hallway to the master suite with its bedroom, sitting room and palatial bathroom. Tessa had never allowed anyone back here—at least, no one she was romantically interested in. Ama had been in her bedroom, of course, as had a few personal assistants, housekeepers and other assorted professionals. But in the way that counted most, Eleanor would be the first.

As she closed the bedroom door behind them, Tessa felt nervousness sparking through her body again. This was it, she thought, switching on a bedside lamp. Now everything would be different. She flicked off the overhead light and turned to face Eleanor.

Eyes on hers, Eleanor moved closer. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, now would be a good time to say so,” she said, and leaned forward to touch her lips to Tessa’s.

Shivering slightly, Tessa opened her mouth to Eleanor’s, feeling the heat rise again between them as their tongues met and the kiss deepened. Eleanor’s fingers slid to the back of her neck, and Tessa ran her hands along Eleanor’s waist, tracing the increasingly familiar curve of her body. Then she arched her back, pressing herself fully against Eleanor and hearing her sharp intake of breath. This was really happening. This was actually going to happen. She couldn’t help the smile that creased her lips.

Eleanor leaned away from her. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you stayed,” she said.

“I’m glad you wanted me to stay.”

For a while, she was conscious of everything—the beauty of Eleanor’s body in the lamplight as they undressed; the contrast between their skin colors, one cream, the other closer to caramel; the lushness of her own curves compared to Eleanor’s leaner, more angular lines. But then she lost the ability to think, overwhelmed by the sensation of Eleanor on top of her, breast to breast, hip to hip, pressing her into the mattress; Eleanor’s hands and lips moving over her body, gentle now, then insistent, demanding a response she would have been unable to prevent even if she’d wanted to.

She was so wet, and Eleanor’s mouth was unrelenting at her breasts while her hand traced sensual circles across her stomach, moving lower and lower until she was exploring Tessa’s slick folds lightly, almost teasingly. Tessa closed her eyes, fists clenched at the sinuous pressure that approached but never seemed to reach the spot that craved it most. Then Eleanor moved back up her body to kiss her again. When Tessa’s lips parted, Eleanor’s tongue stroked into her mouth at the same moment her fingers entered her, pressing deep inside. Tessa gasped, her hips lifting as Eleanor’s thumb massaged her swollen clit rhythmically, fingers rubbing skillfully against the sensitive nub within.

Tessa moaned softly, her own hands sliding downward to squeeze Eleanor’s taut nipples. But Eleanor had other ideas. Shifting to one side, she paused her ministrations to grasp both of Tessa’s hands and pin them to the pillow above her head. Then she lowered her mouth to Tessa’s, tongue slipping inside as her free hand dipped lower again. Tessa writhed against the sheets, even more turned on by the inability to move. Eleanor angled her fingers further into Tessa, thumb rubbing steadily, fingers flexing, until all Tessa knew was the tension building inside her, centered on Eleanor’s hand. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could only let herself be carried along until the pressure reached a sudden crescendo. Her hips bucked convulsively, and she squeezed Eleanor’s fingers tightly between her thighs.

Eyes shut, she gasped against Eleanor’s lips. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Eleanor murmured. “I’ve got you.” And she kept up the tempo, fingers sliding in and out, thumb circling her engorged flesh until the last tremor subsided.

Eventually the waves receded, and Tessa’s awareness gradually returned. Eleanor had released her hands and was lying beside her now as she gently stroked her, one leg over both of Tessa’s. They traded easy kisses, pausing to smile at each other in the low light as their heartbeats slowed. Tessa stretched, feeling a glow spreading through her limbs.

She shifted onto her side so that their heads were cradled by the same pillow. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“My pleasure.” Eleanor ran a finger over Tessa’s lips. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Tessa had heard this particular compliment many times in her life, but coming from Eleanor, it felt somehow new. Tessa leaned in to kiss her, and Eleanor inhaled quickly, her hips arching against Tessa. Smoothly Tessa rolled on top of her, pushing her down into the eggshell mattress. She couldn’t wait to make Eleanor feel as good as she did. Better, even, if that was possible. But there was no rush. For once, she could take as much time as she wanted.

Slowly she traced a line of kisses down Eleanor’s neck to her breastbone, then dipped down to flick her tongue around the edge of a pink nipple. Their colors were so different, as was almost everything else about them. Tessa was generally hairless, while Eleanor appeared to be covered in a pale, nearly invisible peach fuzz. Her breasts were high, areolas light pink and small, while Tessa had retained the full figure wrought by motherhood, her nipples dark and wide. She brought her breasts against Eleanor’s, slowly rubbing their nipples together. Eleanor stared up at her, eyes darkening. Tessa felt new desire stirring as she lowered her mouth to Eleanor’s, their tongues weaving together. She’d never wanted anyone quite this much, had she?

Legs entwined with Eleanor’s, Tessa rubbed herself against her, slowly at first, then faster as Eleanor’s hips rose to meet her. They moved in unison, faster and faster, breathing ragged as their rhythm caught and held. Reaching between Eleanor’s legs, Tessa slid her fingers through her hot wetness, entering her in one swift move. Eleanor gasped, and Tessa kissed her hard, tongue probing her mouth as they strained together. Eleanor was close, she could tell.

All at once, Tessa stopped, and Eleanor whimpered slightly as she shifted away. She didn’t want her to come too soon. She had been dreaming about this ever since the night in the hot tub.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, and placed a gentle kiss on Eleanor’s lips.

Taking her time, she left a trail of hot kisses across Eleanor’s breasts, down over her narrow ribcage, dipping her tongue into her navel and sucking lightly on her angular hip bones. Eleanor moved restlessly beneath her, groaning quietly, and Tessa smiled, enjoying the effect she was having. Then she slipped between Eleanor’s legs and pressed her thighs apart.

This was one of her favorite places to be—between another woman’s legs, a willing instrument of someone else’s pleasure. She used her hands to spread Eleanor wide, inhaling the mild, musky scent rising from her neatly trimmed bush. Dipping her head, she took her first taste, tongue delicately exploring the exposed ridges and folds. Above her, she heard Eleanor moan, and the sound reignited her own desire. She ran her tongue across Eleanor’s center, reaching her swollen clit and sucking it into her mouth greedily. At the same time, she slipped her fingers inside Eleanor, seeking and quickly finding the receptive spot within.

It didn’t take long. She was already so close, and soon Tessa felt Eleanor’s muscles contracting around her, heard the muffled cry as Eleanor came, hips rising up from the mattress. Tessa was close too. Her mouth still on Eleanor, Tessa drove her own pelvis into the bed, rubbing urgently. After a moment her body tensed, and she hid her face against Eleanor’s damp thigh as waves of release broke over her again.

“Jesus,” Eleanor murmured eventually, her voice gravelly.

“No kidding.” Tessa crawled up the bed and collapsed, head on Eleanor’s shoulder, arm across her belly. The perspiration that had pooled at the small of her back was rapidly cooling now that they were still. She shivered, only partially from cold.

Eleanor tugged the sheets and comforter up over them and rubbed her back. “Better?”

“Mm,” Tessa said, and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed.

In the past when she’d gone to bed with someone new, she’d often been too aware of her own celebrity status to let go completely, certain the other person was making love to Tessa Flanagan, Star. But with Eleanor, she hadn’t felt like that at all. Eleanor knew her as a serious reader and an attentive mom, a woman who enjoyed ziplining and longed to make a difference in the world. Eleanor knew her, and that was what had allowed Tessa to let go and give herself over to the feel of another woman’s body, lips, fingers bringing her so far inside herself she forgot, for once, to worry.

“That was incredible.” Eleanor kissed Tessa’s forehead and brushed her hair back from her face. “Can I tell you something?”

Tessa opened her eyes. “Um, okay.”

“I’m really glad you’re a lesbian.”

She smiled. “Ditto, pal.”

As they lay together under the covers, silence blanketing the house, Tessa could feel sleep tugging at her.

“Do you want me to go to the carriage house?” Eleanor asked.

“No,” she said without stopping to consider, and then realized it was true—for the first time in years, she wanted to fall asleep next to someone she’d made love with.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Unless—do you want to go?”

“No.”

“Then stay.” She tightened her grip on Eleanor. She should probably let her go. After all, Laya usually found her way into her room first thing in the morning. But she couldn’t bear to watch Eleanor leave, not tonight. She was tired of being alone, and the old reasons—her closet, her career—no longer held.

“I’ll set my alarm,” Eleanor said, fiddling with her watch.

When she’d finished, Tessa clapped twice and the bedside lamp shut off.

In the dark, Eleanor laughed. “You do not have The Clapper in your bedroom.”

“What can I say? I’m lazy,” she mumbled.

“Are not,” Eleanor said, but her voice sounded sleepy, too.

Tessa moved closer to her, sighing as Eleanor’s warmth seeped into her. “Goodnight, Elle.”

“Goodnight, Tess.”

Lovely was the last word she thought before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 690