The Snowball Effect ch 12-14 (Patreon)

Alternatively known as Regan's DilEMMA...

** major update (edited in after original post) - I made a bit of a change to Regan's side plot with her sister. These are the kind of updates you can expect from me if you're reading a novel as I'm writing it lol. Regan's sister is now named Audrey, and I wrote in a scene between Regan and Audrey in chapter 6 (the chapter right after Emma and Regan's fight). I'm attaching that scene as a pdf, so you can read that! It becomes relevant...

Scrolling advisory in effect - this section is quite long!

----------------- The Snowball Effect --------------------

Chapter Twelve

Regan didn’t consider herself the type to suffer in silence.

Regan also didn’t know if she was suffering.

Because, frankly, Regan had no fucking clue what the hell was going on in her own mind. In her own body.

All she knew for certain was that last night, she’d been acting super, duper normally – as a friend! – and complimenting Emma’s body. That was the kind of thing Regan did for her friends all the time!

She couldn’t even count the number of occurrences over the years in which Sutton had been fretting over something in the mirror, and she’d swooped in to dissuade any and all self-conscious notions from her best friends’ mind. She’d done the same for other friends over the years; just the other day, Beth had been lamenting about how she’d spotted a gray hair, and Regan had hyped her up: tons of women wore their naturally gray hair and were totally fucking gorgeous! Aging was normal! Why was it sexy when men started to gray at their temples, but not women?!

Hell, Regan did that for customers. For the random woman she shared an elevator with at the gynecologist – hey, your legs look great in that dress!

Regan merely viewed that as her job as a woman. Who else would be there to hype one another up, sincerely and genuinely without expecting anything in return, if not for other women?!

That had been what she’d believed she’d been doing with Emma at the bookstore.

Yeah, she understood that Emma was implying that she wasn’t as attractive as someone who was waif-like. But she honestly hadn’t understood why in the world Emma would think that.

Fine, Emma wasn’t, like, super thin – big deal.

Regan had never been captivated by another woman’s physique the way she was by Emma’s. She was voluptuous and curvy and her clothing clung to her in a way that was ridiculously hot, and Regan intended to say that.

Hype woman!

Only… she hadn’t been able to get the words out. Not in any normal sort of way.

Because, as she’d stared at Emma’s body, she hadn’t just felt the need to hype Emma up. She’d felt – she’d felt.

Her heart had skipped a beat, and she felt a heat start to simmer low in her stomach. That tingling awareness had started buzzing through her body, and she hadn’t truly recognized it for what it was until she’d realized she was feeling attraction. While staring down Emma’s shirt, like a perv.  

And that insistent, heart-pounding feeling hadn’t faded as soon as it had arrived, either.

It had remained, throughout their walk back home, as they’d walked down the hallway to their respective bedrooms. When Regan realized her eyes had fallen to Emma’s butt as she’d walked in front of her –

How often did that happen?! She didn’t even know! Was it brand new?

– she was grateful, for once, that Emma proclaimed to be too tired to do anything other than fall into bed with one of her new books as soon as they’d returned home.

Regan had her own thoughts to ponder.

Like, how did she know if she was attracted to women?

The thought had kept her up for most of the night. It had her pacing back and forth in her room this morning.

Google was surprisingly unhelpful; Regan had taken all sorts of quizzes before about if she were a lesbian! Obviously, they hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so far.

She clutched her phone tightly, staring down at Sutton’s contact info. She’d very nearly hit that call button, oh, only about a hundred times in the last ten hours.

How was she supposed to get through this situation without Sutton’s input?!

Finally, she hit the call icon.

Doubt seeped in, though, by the very first ring.

How could she call Sutton and get her real, honest thoughts when Regan couldn’t tell her the truth? Because Sutton didn’t know that Emma was attracted to women, and Regan couldn’t, wouldn’t break Emma’s confidence, even if she didn’t understand her need to be so cloak and dagger.

Another ring.

And Regan knew herself; she knew there was no way she could even begin to assess this situation with Sutton and omit any details. Even if she tried to, Sutton would know she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Damn you, Sutton Spencer, and your truth-seeking eyes,” she muttered, canceling the call.

She startled as her phone started buzzing in her hand.

Incoming call – Sutton, The One and Only.

Regan bared her teeth down at her phone, indecision warring, before she picked it up. She couldn’t start screening Sutton’s calls; she was already in the midst of a personal crisis! If she sent Sutton to voicemail, she wouldn’t even know who she was anymore.

“Hiiii,” she sang out, brightly.

There was a beat of quiet, before Sutton questioningly spoke. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Ha. Ha. Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” Regan asked, feeling pretty good about herself for turning the question back on Sutton.

“Um, because you just called me but then hung up before I could answer? Was it a butt-dial?”

Right. “Yes. Yes, my ginger sunflower, it was a butt-dial. Just me and my silly ass, literally.”

Sutton hummed, the sound full of disbelief. “And everything is okay with Emma?”

Regan’s eyes widened as she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, baffled; did her best friend develop some sort of ESP?! “I – what did you hear? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing…? All you’ve said in the last week or so is that you two are peachy keen,” Sutton’s tone was full of suspicion, even as she quoted the exact phrase Regan had texted her regarding the state of her and Emma’s relationship.

Friendship, that was. Friend relationship.

“Because it is! It’s peachy keen.” Which, actually, wasn’t even a lie.

“Uh huh,” Sutton shortly hummed. The skepticism was so loud, it rang in Regan’s ears. “So, what did you do last night? You didn’t answer my texts.”

Seriously, had Sutton developed some sort of brain link with her?!

Because Sutton was still being kept in the dark, regarding the “dating” situation with Emma’s family. So, naturally, Regan wasn’t able to tell her about what her Saturday night plans had been.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Nothing to worry about; I just turned my notifications off for the night because Audrey was being Audrey.” Which – again – was the truth.

“Aw, I’m so sorry,” Sutton’s disbelief immediately melted into sheer sympathy. “Was she rude to you?”

“Is the sky blue?” Regan joked.

“I feel so awful saying this, but I really can’t stand her,” the muted anger in Sutton’s voice made Regan feel supported, as always. After all, if anyone understood her and had her back with her family, it was Sutton. Granted, Regan’s sour feelings about Audrey had long faded by now.

“You and me, both. But, it’s fine. I’m all right.”

Which was true. Because the realization that she might be attracted to Emma had overshadowed Audrey’s texts. Like, by a lot. By a whole lot.

“I feel so bad that I’m not going to be there with all of her wedding stuff happening. I want you to call me if you need me, even though I’m in a different time zone. Okay?”

Comforted by how genuine she knew Sutton was in that, she found herself smiling. “I will. Even if it’s two in the morning your time and you’re having phone sex with Charlo–”

Regan cut herself off with a gasp, her eyes widening as the idea struck her.

Sutton groaned. “I already told you; we are not discussing my phone sex life with Charlotte.”

“Yes. Yes, shame on me for bringing it up. I should hang up and think about what I’ve done. That’s what I’m going to do. Love you, starfish, kick ass!”

Sutton barely managed a confused goodbye before Regan hung up. Quickly, her anticipation mounting, she scrolled through her contacts until she came to the right person.

She needed help. And it so happened that she knew a lesbian guru.

Regan – 8:08AMHeyyyy what are you up to, today?

Regan – 8:08AMGiven that your hot gf is out of the country, I figured you might be available

Regan – 8:09AMEsp for the best friend of your hot gf who is in need of some serious counseling rn

Regan – 8:09AMSAPPHIC counseling!

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 8:14AMYou know, I distinctly recall when I gave you my number in March that it was for emergencies.

Regan – 8:15AMFirst and foremost, I am experiencing an emergency

Regan – 8:15AMSecond and secondmost, if my memory serves, I was there for you on the worst night of your life and then played an integral part in you winning back the love of your life…

Regan – 8:15AMI feel like that kind of warrants us being text pals on occasion

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 8:19AMFine. You have my attention.

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 8:20AMBut I would like to stress that this number is private.

Regan – 8:20AMWhat do you think I’m gonna do, write your # in sharpie in a bathroom stall and write: call for a good time?

In fairness, Regan had that thought – and other similar ones – when Charlotte had broken Sutton’s heart six months ago. But she’d never do that to Charlotte, now.

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 8:27AMI think it’s better if I refrain from answering that.

Regan was usually totally thrilled to engage in a little texting banter with a friend. Or whatever Charlotte was to her.

But right now, she felt so antsy. Just the very thought that Emma was sleeping across the hall and could get up at any moment – granted, Emma didn’t normally rise so early, but you never know! – made her feel like she was ready to climb out of her skin.

Regan – 8:27AMCharlotte, are you available today?

***

Regan had never been inside Charlotte’s apartment, before.

It had the startingly similar feeling of running into a teacher outside of school. Like she was getting a glimpse at the private life of someone she had no business seeing.

Only, this was her best friend’s girlfriend, which meant Regan – in her opinion – had the right.

There was a startling lack of personal items, though Regan supposed that didn’t shock her.

She paused, though, when she got to the only framed photo in the living room that wasn’t professional artwork, and she grinned down at it. A picture of Sutton, laughing. It looked very familiar. In fact… Regan bent down to get a better look at it.  

“If you’re satisfied poking around in my personal business,” Charlotte drawled from where she sat at her kitchen island, watching Regan roam around her home, “Maybe we could discuss why you were contacting me before nine in the morning on a weekend, proclaiming to have an emergency?”

Regan sent her an impish smile over her shoulder, pointing at the picture next to her. “I took this, you know. And I put it up on SapphicSpark. Safe to say I made a good choice, huh?”

Charlotte sipped on her coffee, giving Regan a measured look over the rim of her mug. After she swallowed, she hummed. “Yes. You very obviously made a good choice, though I’m not sure it would be possible to pick a bad picture of Sutton.”

Oh, there it was. Beneath whatever exterior Charlotte managed to put on when Sutton wasn’t around, even talking about her made the corniness jump right out. Regan loved it.

“You fucking sap.”

Charlotte didn’t verbally disagree. Instead, she nailed Regan with one of her serious stares, and asked, “Am I mistaken, or did you state that you were in need of sapphic counseling? What in the world do you mean by that?”

Oh, right.

Immediately, the reminder of her current sapphic dilemma – dilEMMA – rushed back to the forefront of her mind, bringing with it the jangling of her nerves.

She could feel her face heat, not from embarrassment but simply from the image of Emma that popped into her mind’s eye.

“How do you know if you’re attracted to women? Like, how do I know if I’m attracted to women?”

Charlotte’s eyebrows both lifted in obvious surprise. Normally, surprising Charlotte would have made Regan feel pretty good, but right now, her own conundrum was all she could focus on.

“Is this hypothetical or…?”

Regan shook her head. “Totally not hypothetical.”

Charlotte pursed her lips, delicately clearing her throat, as she set down her coffee mug. “I do feel the need to ask before we go any further: this has nothing to do with myself or Sutton?”

Regan reeled back with a disgusted grimace. “Ew! No!”

“Ew?”

“Sutton is like my sister! Only closer, because Sutton and I actually like one another. And you’re…” She stared critically at Charlotte, some of her revulsion fading as she took a few steps closer.

She kept her eyes trained on Charlotte’s face, carefully studying her.

Charlotte Thompson was incredibly attractive; Regan had known that since the first time she’d seen her profile on SapphicSpark. She had big, doe eyes that had a knowing gleam to them, a small, straight nose, full lips. Her skin was flawless, as was her long, wavy brown hair.

Humming to herself, Regan ran her gaze down Charlotte’s body appraisingly. Yeah, her body looked great, too.

But Regan didn’t feel anything. None of the urges and desires that had swiftly entered her mind last night when she’d been looking at Emma.

Stumped, Regan crossed her arms over her waist, sighing to herself.

“Should I pretend that you didn’t just blatantly check me out?” Charlotte asked, incredulously.

Regan met her incredulous level. “Only to check and see if I was attracted to you!”

“That is generally why someone checks out another person, yes.”

“Well, I’m not. So, don’t go letting your ego get any more inflated.”

Charlotte closed her eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Regan. Please, I truly beg of you, will you explain yourself? If you want advice, I need context.”

She could quite literally feel the words bubbling up in her throat, the desire to spill the beans and try to find more insight into whatever was going on inside of her overwhelming.

“Okay, so, I’ve been spending a lot of time with this woman, lately. That I know from the café,” she rushed to add on, because it technically was the truth – that was how she’d first met Emma – but also because she felt it would help throw Charlotte off from connecting any dots to the fact that she was, in fact, referencing Emma. “And when we were hanging out, I was complimenting her. You know, the way I do. Like, with Sutton – in a friendly way,” she emphasized, lest Charlotte ask any other ridiculous questions.

“Yes, I have heard the many interesting complimentary choices,” Charlotte confirmed, motioning for Regan on to continue with a regal wave of her hand. “Very sweet, but very fascinating at times.”

Regan could accept that.

“I was going to just… just be honest with her. Trying to make her feel a little confidence boost because I do think that she is really attractive.”

As she spoke, she replayed the moment with Emma in her mind. The intention she’d had, the way she’d looked at Emma with platonic intentions, but her thoughts had then been… intercepted. By something very not platonic.

“But I felt – I felt – it didn’t feel the way I feel when I compliment Sutton. Or when I just checked you out.”

“And… what did you feel?” Charlotte pressed, coaxingly.

Regan swallowed, thickly. “I felt like I didn’t just want to compliment her thighs or her boobs, but I wanted to touch them. Like, I didn’t want her to just think I was saying these words for the sake of saying them. I felt like,” she licked her lips, “Like she had no business feeling badly about herself in any way, because she looked sexy. And I didn’t just think, objectively, she was sexy. I felt like she was.”

Even saying those words made her feel dazed all over again.

“That certainly sounds very telling,” Charlotte commented after several beats.

Regan stared. “That’s all you have to say?”

Charlotte matched her stare, easily. “What else would you like me to tell you?”

Tossing her arms in the air, Regan resumed her pacing from this morning. “I don’t know! You’re the expert, here. You’re the one who was essentially tutoring Sutton in the art of dating.” She frowned. “Then again, you didn’t do that great of a job, given that she never went on any dates with anyone else.”

“She went speed dating,” Charlotte corrected, her voice dipping to a jealous mutter.

“You know what I mean.” Besides, Regan had been the one to sign Sutton up for that, so it didn’t even really count.

“Regan, the difference between my interactions with Sutton in the beginning, other than the obvious–”

“That you desperately wanted to make passionate love to her.”

Charlotte’s nose wrinkled up in disdain. “I was going to say, that I was interested in her.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

Charlotte took to ignoring her, then. “As I was saying, the difference is that when Sutton wanted my advice, she knew for a fact that she was attracted to women. What you’re asking my advice on is a far more difficult subject.”

Confused, Regan slowly paused her pacing. “Why?”

Charlotte stared critically at her for several moments, and Regan nearly squirmed. She had to hand it to Charlotte; she had an incredibly direct stare. One that made Regan feel seen from the inside out. What a skill to have.

“Because – there simply is no one size fits all, here,” Charlotte explained, before taking another sip from her mug. She seemed entirely too calm right now, especially given the storm Regan was feeling inside of herself.

She waited several more seconds to see what other sage wisdom Charlotte would offer, only to be met with quiet.

“That’s all you have to say?!”

This time, Charlotte let out a quietly amused chuckle. “There is no real answer, Regan. I can’t tell you if you’re attracted to women or not. Or even if you’re attracted to this woman or not.”

Regan stared at her, dismally. “Charlotte, please. You want to be a leader of our country, I need more leadership right now. Win my vote.”

Charlotte seemed to take her statement seriously. Seemingly as a challenge. She focused that intense stare on Regan, tilting her head slightly as she asked, “Fine. Why are you doubting this? My intuition about you is that you typically follow your feelings without fear. Why is this different?”

Huh. Okay, that was a good starting point. Regan’s eyebrows furrowed in thought as she slowly resumed her strides back and forth across Charlotte’s living room.

“I think… I think it’s because – shouldn’t I know, by now? Shouldn’t I have figured it out?” She demanded, from both of them and the universe. “If I’m queer, shouldn’t I know? I was with Sutton through every step of the way on her sapphic self-discovery. I did all of the research for her on different queer dating apps–”

“Appreciated,” Charlotte interjected.

“You’re welcome,” she answered easily, continuing without missing a beat. “But none of it made me feel like I was missing a piece of myself. Shouldn’t I have felt some sort of… stirring, too?” She challenged, her hands falling to her hips as she faced Charlotte. “Shouldn’t I have felt my awakening, then?”

“It’s not some sort of sixth-sense tingling,” Charlotte’s amusement was clear in her tone, even if her small smirk was reserved. “And just because you witnessed Sutton going through something, doesn’t mean you’d have felt the same way.”

Regan wondered if, in some way, maybe watching Sutton go through her self-discovery journey had made Regan totally dismiss the idea for herself. She’d been fully focused on working with Sutton through her newly realized bisexuality and becoming the number one best friend ally, she hadn’t contemplated her own sexuality at all. Not really.

“When did you know that you were into women?” She asked, shaking her head.

“Middle school,” Charlotte answered, unthinkingly.

“Exactly!”

“I’m also not attracted to men in the slightest, so that may have facilitated my discovery. If you are attracted to men, it makes sense that it might have taken you longer. That’s actually a very normal thing,” Charlotte informed her, her voice gentling a bit. Enough that Regan did feel comforted. “Sexuality is fluid; it’s a scale. You are – bafflingly – attracted to men. Maybe your sexuality scale is ninety percent men, ten percent women, or an even smaller percentage. It’s not one-size fits all. Some women don’t even realize they are full-fledged lesbians until they’re decades older than you are.”

Regan felt like some of the wind was taken out of her sails, abruptly feeling very aware that she’d gotten very little sleep all night.

“That’s not exactly the information I’d hoped to hear, but I guess it makes sense. Guess I’m luckier than the women that don’t figure their shit out until they’re even older than I am.”

“What I can say,” Charlotte aimed a look at her. “Is that – even if you’ve never experienced this kind of attraction before, it doesn’t mean it’s invalid. Sometimes that’s how it is. Maybe you really haven’t been attracted to women, before. Maybe there’s something about this person. Maybe it was just something you felt in the moment and isn’t going to be replicated. None of those potential avenues are wrong.”

Regan ultimately collapsed onto Charlotte’s couch, blowing out a long-suffering breath. “What would you do, then? What do I do, now?” That was really what Regan needed a guiding light for, she supposed. What was the appropriate next step? “That’s something you can help with, right?”

Charlotte softly sighed, slowly standing from the island and coming to join her on the sofa. “First, you continue to hang out with this friend. See if you feel those same… stirrings, again. If you do, then you’ll have your answer.”

Regan blew out a breath, slumping down on the couch even more as she stared blankly ahead. “God, this sapphic shit is exhausting.”

***

She felt better going home than she had when she’d left in the morning, at the very least.

After all, Regan felt her emotions very strongly. Maybe last night had been a strange one-off. It could happen, according to her conversation with Charlotte. And she had no reason to doubt Charlotte, who was a veritable lesbian lothario. Pre-Sutton, of course.

Regan took a deep breath as she entered the apartment, feeling nervous anticipation weigh heavily in the pit of her stomach.

Honestly, she didn’t even know what she wanted to be the outcome, here.

Everything would probably be way simpler, clearer, and better if she didn’t have any attraction to Emma, she decided as she toed her shoes off.

And that was probably the reality she should expect, she reasoned with herself. Why should she belief that her attraction to Emma was fundamentally changed, now? It was probably a fluke, a weird one-time response.

Walking down the hall into the kitchen, she came to a stumbling stop in the kitchen.

Where Emma sat at their table wearing a black tank top, as she pressed one of Regan’s small gel ice packs – she’d found them online, all in bright colors with little slogans on them – against the bare skin of her neck.

Her hair was thrown up in a bun on the top of her head, and she wore a pair of wide-framed glasses, and… fine, yeah. Okay, so, she was attractive. That was true. But –

Regan’s throat ran dry as Emma slowly slid the ice pack down her neck, and she choked on the sharp inhale she’d just taken.

Because, there it was.

That same feeling from last night. This insanely strong urge to replace Emma’s own hand with her own, as that ice pack slid over her warm, soft skin.

Emma lifted her gaze away from her computer as Regan coughed on nothing. “Are you all right?”

Regan wheezed. “I’m fine! Fine, I am. Why do you ask?”

Attention completely off of her work, Emma sat up straight in the chair, eyeing Regan closely. “Because you’re standing in the doorway, staring at me, sounding like you can’t breathe?” She offered, drawing out the words slowly. “On top of that, last night you took an intense fall to the ground, and – based on how you’ve been acting ever since – I’m still not convinced you didn’t whack your head.”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense, then, why you’d be concerned.” She paused for only a second, unable to take her eyes off of Emma. “You are concerned, right? About me.”

Emma’s blue eyes – Regan really was constantly amazed by her eyes. Seriously, so crystal clear. Stunningly so – narrowed in suspicion. “No, I’m asking about your well-being because I couldn’t care less if you keeled over.”

A tittle of laughter escaped her, as she felt her cheeks heat. “Funny. Funny woman.”

Regan forced herself to walk past Emma so she could brace her hands on the porcelain edge of the sink. She was attracted to Emma. She was attracted to Emma. A woman she’d known for two years. Her roommate. Her new-found friend.

What did it mean? What happened, now? Her mind buzzed with questions, and Regan felt like her veins had been lit up by a sparkler.

“Where were you? I saw that you didn’t have work on the calendar,” Emma commented.

Regan could feel Emma’s eyes on her back, and she couldn’t help but wonder what Emma saw when she looked at her.

Emma had said that she’d looked good in her underwear. But – as Regan well-knew – that didn’t denote feeling attraction.

“I was hanging out with Charlotte,” she pushed herself to answer. Did she sound normal?

“Sutton’s Charlotte?” Emma clarified, sounding surprised.

“The one and only. Why? Did you miss me?” She couldn’t help but ask, meaning to tease but not to feel like she really was invested in the answer.

But… she hoped Emma missed her. At the very least, that she’d thought about Regan when she’d been gone. Because she thought about Emma when she wasn’t home.

“Desperately,” Emma dryly responded. “I just didn’t realize you two were friends. Like, hangout without Sutton there to buffer kind of friends.”

Regan shrugged. “It’s a relatively new development.”

There were a lot of those going around in Regan’s life.

Speaking of Charlotte, Regan pulled her phone out of her pocket.

Regan – 2:34PMMayday, captain, mayday!

Regan – 2:34PMThe attraction is REAL and verified

Regan – 2:34PMLooks like I’m in the club

Regan spun around, finding that she needed to face Emma. To be able to look at her, to take her in. To try to make sense of this attraction or brush it off or…

Or immediately dip her gaze to Emma’s chest.

“Have you always worn such low-cut tops?” She demanded to know. She could see the cups of her bra, and… yeah. Wow.

Emma really did favor those pretty bras, like the red one she’d been wearing in the kitchen last month when she hadn’t expected Regan to be home early from work.

As if playing on a tape, Regan’s mind conjured that image in perfect clarity.

Oh, wow.

Had she been attracted to Emma, even then?! Why could she picture every time she’d seen Emma in any state of undress so easily? That was definitely not normal; she couldn’t for the life of her summon an image of any of her other friends in specific bathing suits or similar attire.

“What?” Emma spun around in her chair, draping her arm over the back to stare at Regan above the frames of her glasses. “Did you seriously just ask what I thought you asked?”

Regan forced herself to stop staring at Emma’s chest like a perv, which honestly wasn’t that difficult. Because she found that exciting, buzzy zing continued thrumming through her when she was looking at Emma’s face, as well.

Had she always found glasses to be so attractive? That was something she was going to need to look into.

“Do you always wear glasses?” She asked.

“Yes – I mean, kind of,” Emma corrected, still frowning concernedly at Regan. “I’ve had them since I was little, but I normally wear my contacts.” She rolled her lips, before softly confessing, “Last night was… emotional for me.”

“Better to give your eyes a break after you cry,” Regan surmised, easily, feeling her emotions pitch out of outright heat and into sympathy.

Emma’s cheeks turned pink as she cleared her throat and turned back to her laptop. “Ah, yeah. Ergo, the glasses.”

“They look really good. You should wear them more,” she couldn’t hold the comment in. Really, she couldn’t.

Emma spun back around quickly, eyeing her closely as the color on her cheeks deepened. “The compliments – enough with them. Seriously. And what did you say about my shirts? What, would you prefer me to change into something else?”

“No!” Regan all-but shouted as she jumped forward, as if propelled by an invisible force.

She found herself standing in the middle of the kitchen, then, dropping her hands listlessly to fall on her thighs, as she stared at Emma.

Who stared at Regan with nothing short of alarmed confusion.

“That is to say: no. You should wear what you feel comfortable in. Always. But especially here, at home. Of course.”

“Of course,” Emma repeated skeptically.

Regan hadn’t even registered that she was still clutching her phone until it vibrated in her hand.

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:37PMCongratulations. I will personally send you a toaster.

Regan – 2:37PMCharlotte, this is no time to talk about random kitchen equipment!

Regan – 2:38PMThis is a MAYDAY

Regan – 2:38PMWhat do I DO now!!!

Regan – 2:38PMBTW we really need to talk about your text response times. Like what if there’s a national emergency – and you take 5+ minutes to see it?!

“Uh, so,” Emma started, easily regaining her full attention.

Regan licked her lips as she stared at the way Emma drew her own between her teeth. She’d always admired how full Emma’s lips were.

She supposed now she understood why.

“I talked to my gram earlier today. She heard all about our dinner from Kimberly, and she, ah, she really wants to meet you, now.” Emma blew out a deep breath, as if she’d been preparing herself for this. “Is there any time next weekend that you’re free?”

Regan could only stare for several beats, as her heart rate doubled. Amidst this whole realizing she was attracted to Emma aspect of her life, she’d forgotten that she was also Emma’s fake girlfriend. Oh, wow.

Real attraction for a fake girlfriend. Not on her bingo card!

“It’s fine if you’re not.” Emma frowned as she tapped her fingers lightly against the edge of the table, looking uncomfortable. “And, really, it’s fine if you don’t want to do it again. You going out of your way to meet Kimberly for dinner was enough. I can–”

“No!” She asserted again, far too loudly, as she took another step forward. She was only a foot away from Emma, now. “I mean, no. I’d love to meet your grandmother; I told you that before. I’m free all next weekend. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

She grimaced, the excitement of the day dimming slightly as she remembered the dress fitting appointment for Audrey’s wedding. “Except for Saturday, late morning and early afternoon. But any time other than that, I’m yours.”

The smile that bloomed on Emma’s face was tentative and sweet, and far more than enough to shake Regan out of any stressful Audrey thoughts. “Thank you so much. Really. How’s Friday? I checked your work schedule – off by one? You’re doing the morning shift?”

Regan nodded; honestly, she didn’t have her work schedule memorized that far in advance, but she believed that Emma and her love of schedules properly checked their calendar, so…

“Allegra is taking that afternoon off; she’s going to the Hamptons for the weekend. I’ll be home around lunch. So, we can plan to leave here by three?”

“That sounds great. Consider it booked.”

And it really did.

She was eager – really eager – to meet Emma’s grandmother. She’d felt that way before she’d become aware of this tingling attraction, even.  

Now, she felt even more excitement around meeting the woman who’d shaped Emma so completely!

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:41PMAre you likening your sexuality awakening to a national emergency?

Regan – 2:41PMIt is for the sovereign nation of Regan C. Gallagher

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:42PMShockingly, I am unfamiliar with that country. I should clearly brush up on my world geography.

Regan – 2:42PMYes. But FIRST – WHAT HAPPENS NOW

She was shocked and elated when she saw that Charlotte was writing back to her already.

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:43PMWhat happens when you’re attracted to anyone? I assume you’ve had romantic encounters before?

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:43PMApologies. I do forget that figuring out women for the first time can… scarier.

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:43PMFirst, you need to decide if you want more. If not, then your quandary ends there. If you do, then you’ll need to discover if they want more.

Did Regan want more? She stared at Emma, who was also texting. Presumably her grandmother, to solidify their Friday plans.

Wanting more with Emma would make things infinitely more difficult.

They were forming a real friendship. Something that made Regan feel good. Made her feel seen. Made her feel heard, and funny, and useful.

They were roommates. Something blowing up could make living together incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. That had the potential to be very, very bad.

And yet…

Regan – 2:44PMAnd, if I did decide I want more… what do I do, next?

Stunning Charlotte Thompson – 2:45PMYou’ll need to figure out if she feels the same attraction. Subtle looks and touches can usually do the trick. Figure out what she’s looking for, what she likes. It can all be very casual.

Regan – 2:45PMaye aye cap’n. Appreciated. Seriously

She slipped her phone into her back pocket, as she slipped that tidbit of information into the back of her mind.

Because she didn’t know what to do about this attraction just yet. And she really didn’t know how Emma would respond to this.

Probably not well, Regan could admit to herself. Which should put a damper on this electrified draw she was feeling, the longer she stayed in the same vicinity as Emma, breathing in the subtle scent of her shampoo.

Should, being the key word.

And yet, she found herself staring intently at Emma, her thoughts racing…

Did Emma have any sort of attraction to her as well? Did that matter? What –

She snapped back to the moment as Emma pointedly cleared her throat. Regan startled, bumping her hip into the counter, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth at the pain. Damn, between her fall last night and now this, her attraction to Emma was resulting in so many bruises.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Emma asked, an urgency in her tone that Regan wasn’t sure she’d heard before.

Regan blinked her eyes open, glancing down at Emma’s wide-eyed stare. God, she really did look concerned for her. And knowing that felt… nice.

“Totally fine,” Regan lied as she gingerly rubbed a hand over her hip.

Physically, she’d be fine. Emotionally and mentally – that remained to be seen.

Emma’s doubt was etched into her face as she frowned at Regan. “Why don’t we ignore my question, and instead, you go and relax? It seems like you need it.”

“Question? What question?”

“When you were spacing out a minute ago, I asked if you wanted to go through the applications with me.” Emma gestured at the table, where her laptop, notebook, and an array of papers were spread out in orderly piles. “I have to finish reviewing the portfolios for the Alton Fellowship by Tuesday. Right now, I have them narrowed down to the top two hundred, but Allegra only wants to personally review our top fifty. We move onto interviews in the next couple of weeks. I came up with a system – a rubric – that I think will help decisively make some cuts, and I thought I’d run it by you to get your thoughts.”

Regan told herself she should leave; that was the logical decision. She should go back to her own room, give Emma some time and space to work. She should take some time and space to work through everything, herself. Emma was right; she could definitely use some relaxation.

She should go to her room and get her shit together. She shouldn’t come out of her room until she was positive that she could act like a normal, functional human being around Emma. Until she was reasonably positive that she could think – yeah, sure, I’m attracted to my roommate and experiencing some sort of sexual awakening because of her, but hey, that’s fine!

That would probably be the soundest choice she could make.

“I’d love to,” was what she said, quickly pulling out the chair next to Emma’s and sitting down.

The thing was, Regan didn’t always make the soundest decisions.

Besides, she’d only just realized she was attracted to Emma, to a woman. What was the harm in letting herself revel in it?

Chapter Thirteen

Emma was fairly convinced that Regan had, in fact, sustained a head injury at the bookstore last Saturday.

What kind of head injury, exactly? She wasn’t sure, but that wasn’t really her expertise as a non-medical professional.

All she knew for sure was that literally every time she’d seen Regan for the last five days something was… off. Again, Emma would be hard-pressed to say exactly what it was, but there was always something.

Sunday, it had simply been the staring. Regan had sat with her and discussed her work project for a couple of hours. Which had, honestly, been even more helpful than Emma had imagined it would be. What had been weird was how frequently she’d turned to catch Regan just… staring at her.

Monday, there’d been what Emma had started thinking of as the coffee incident. In which she’d left her cup of coffee in the kitchen, so she’d run back into the kitchen while in her bra and underwear to grab it. Only to bump into Regan – not literally – who had promptly spilled her own coffee down herself.

Tuesday, Regan had tripped over her own feet, landing face-first against the living room floor when she’d been on her way to join Emma to watch tv. Luckily, her face had hit the plush area rug, but jesus. Emma had been stretching and hadn’t actually seen what had made Regan fall.

Wednesday, they’d barely seen one another due to their work schedules, as Regan had to close. Then again, she’d been a little weird when Emma had texted her to ask if she’d remembered to bring something for dinner or if she needed anything.

And last night, Emma had entered the bathroom while Regan had been showering; she’d just needed to grab her moisturizer, and she’d assumed she’d be able to slip in and out before Regan could even notice. After all, Regan was singing – loudly and heartily – along to the music playing from her phone.

But Regan had noticed. She’d paused, her admittedly decent singing that Emma had finally gotten used to – and might, just the littlest bit, have started to enjoy – cutting abruptly off as Emma opened the medicine cabinet. Emma had frozen in place as Regan asked, “… Emma?”

“Who else?” She’d returned playfully, in a manner she’d only realized was very Regan after the fact.

“An axe murderer, serial killer, abductor… New York’s full of weirdos.”

Emma had let out a laugh. “I’m living with one of them.”

Regan hadn’t laughed as Emma had expected. Instead, she’d hummed before she’d wrapped her fingers around the cloth of the shower curtain. Long, slim fingers, and Emma should have turned around and left the bathroom right then and there. She really should have. Because she was staring far too intently at Regan’s hand, as the laughter she felt completely died away. Why was Regan holding the shower curtain like that? Like she was about to open it?

And why wasn’t Emma leaving? Or asking Regan what the hell she was doing?

She should have been doing either or both of those things. Instead, she’d taken a sharp inhale and stared, those brief seconds seeming to drag on entirely too long.

That breath had held, stuck in her lungs, as Regan had slowly tugged the shower curtain, and Emma could barely breathe – the air was far too steamy. Too thick. Too much, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened.

Before Regan poked her head out, and the curtain stopped moving.

Her dark hair was slicked back, and she stared at Emma, dark eyes wide and curious, as droplets of water slid down the soft skin of her cheeks. One made a home right at the edge of her full lips, and Emma’s eyes zeroed in on it as Regan spoke.

“I’m in the shower,” Regan had said, studying Emma carefully.

Emma had no clue what she was studying her for. Emma had no clue if she was passing.

“I know that,” she found herself saying, though she couldn’t for the life of her summon a scoff.

Regan rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, that droplet disappearing with it. “I’m – I’m naked in here.”

What Emma had wanted to do – what she did in the aftermath – was roll her eyes as hard as she could and say something like, “Right, I hadn’t realized that even though you were showering that you were also naked in there, thanks for enlightening me,” or even, “No, really?!” because – obviously!

People showered naked! Obviously!

Only, Regan hadn’t said that the way she’d normally say something like that. She hadn’t laughed and flicked water at Emma or worked in any theatrics.

And Emma… Emma had realized, in that very moment, that amidst the very in-depth pro/con list she’d made before agreeing to move in with Regan, she’d left off one aspect. An aspect that, right at that second, was something crucial. Something that Emma, as a very thorough person, should have thought about – that Regan was one of the most attractive people Emma had ever met in real life.

A few months ago, she’d have called herself ridiculous for factoring that into her Regan Roommate Pro/Con. But, as she breathed in the headily heavy air, staring at Regan who was naked in the shower only a foot away, she thought – I should have factored that in.

As a pro or a con? A snarky voice – the voice that occasionally liked to pop up and remind Emma that she hadn’t dated in two years – had asked in the back of her mind.

Definitely a con, she’d been able to realize as she finally regained her mental faculties and drag her gaze away.

She’d cleared her throat, and finally opened the medicine cabinet. “I just needed my moisturizer,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I didn’t think you’d mind, given your proclivity for ignoring boundaries and all.”

“So… you weren’t trying to join me in here?” Regan had asked, and Emma didn’t understand her tone.

She didn’t understand it at all, because it didn’t sound like jovial teasing.

But she refused to let herself look at Regan again as she exited the bathroom without an answer to the ridiculous question.

All right, Emma would admit to being partially responsible for the weirdness of the shower incident last night. But she maintained that Regan was at the root of it.

Right now, as they were on the subway heading to Astoria to see her gram, the staring thing was happening again. Emma could see it out of the corner of her eye, the way Regan had turned in her seat to look at her.

Luckily – or not, depending on how she looked at the situation – Emma didn’t have the time or energy to dedicate to Regan’s possibly head-wound related strangeness of the last week.

Not with how tightly wound her nerves were about the impending clashing of her worlds.

Regan was going to meet her gram. Gram was going to meet Regan, who she believed was Emma’s girlfriend. Her serious, live-in girlfriend.

A meeting that would happen in less than twenty minutes, as their stop was rapidly approaching, and Primrose Grove was only an eight-minute walk from the station.

“So, speaking of the episode of The One that we watched last night,” Regan started her completely random non sequitur, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something you said.”

Emma turned to look at her sharply, ludicrously. “When were we talking about that?”

Regan grinned, brightly and guilelessly, “Guess I was just thinking about it.” She barreled on, “So, anyway, you said something I thought was interesting – you said that you thought Samantha should potentially keep Chelsea around as a contestant even though they haven’t necessarily connected as deeply as Samantha’s connected with several of the other contestants still around.”

Even though Emma was still unsure as to how they’d gotten onto this topic, she was willing to take any distraction she could take. “Right,” she slowly said, switching gears in her mind to focus on the show.

Honestly, it made Emma feel a little embarrassed. She’d doggedly avoided watching any reality television for literal decades, looking at it with no small amount of disdain. And now, she was several seasons deep into watching a reality dating show with Regan and enjoying it.

But she couldn’t deny that she was, truly, enjoying it. “All I was saying is that I think that Chelsea is worth Samantha keeping around for a little while longer, because she’s the person Samantha feels the strongest attraction to. They haven’t had that much time one-on-one to explore it, so… I don’t know, it feels like a little bit of a waste to send her home so soon when she feels such a physical connection.”

“Hmm,” Regan hummed softly, watching Emma closely. Closely enough that it made her stomach start to squirm. “So, is that how your past relationships started, then? Because you were really attracted to them?”

Emma thought she might have whiplash by the end of this conversation. “I thought we were talking about The One? When did it become about me?”

Regan’s gaze was unwavering, though, as she dropped a hand on Emma’s thigh. “I’m distracting you. It’s a distraction technique.”

She did her best to stop herself from shivering at the touch. Which didn’t work, so she then switched to hoping Regan didn’t notice and wouldn’t comment on it.

This was a part of her strange behavior, though!

All of the touching in the last few days. While Regan was always a very tactile person, Emma felt like it had shifted, somehow, this past week. Post-head injury. Rather than Regan landing a hand on her knee as they would sit and talk, she touched Emma’s thigh. Rather than bump shoulders together with a joke, she seemed to… cuddle in?

Granted, it wasn’t all that different from how she’d been in the weeks before. So, maybe Regan was just being Regan, and maybe it was Emma that was different.

Maybe her mind was catching up with the fact that her body was so damn attracted to Regan.

“So?” Regan prompted her, as she stroked her thumb along the inside of her thigh.

Emma inhaled sharply, disguising it as a cough.

If Emma didn’t know any better, she’d have to believe Regan was doing this to her on purpose! Did she know that Emma found her incredibly hot? Had she given it away when she’d looked at her in her lingerie last weekend or something? Was Regan teasing her?

She stared back at Regan, wondering…

The only reason she dismissed that idea was because she firmly believed that while Regan might tease her if she knew about her attraction – likely in a silly, well-meaning way – that she wouldn’t be so… flirty about it.

“Uh – no,” she answered, trying to get herself back on track. Well, back on track of this weird avenue of conversation, anyway.

“What was it, then? That drew you to people, if not attraction?” Regan asked, leaning in as her eyebrows furrowed slightly. It was a look of utter concentration.

Emma felt her cheeks flush as she thought about Felicity. About the naïve way she’d viewed her, in the beginning. “I mean, there was attraction,” she hedged. “It was just about other stuff, too.”

Regan leaned in even closer, only inches away, as she clearly waited for Emma to elaborate.

Which she did, sighing. “She was my TA, my sophomore year. I thought she was so… so smart. Passionate. I really respected her.”

“Respect, the ultimate panty-dropper,” Regan murmured.

Emma continued to stare, because Regan wasn’t teasing. At least, she wasn’t speaking in one of her joking tones. It was… thoughtful.

And the longer Regan spent staring at her like that, the more Emma’s face heated.

“Well, what about you?” She turned the question on Regan, needing for the focus to be off of her.

“Me? What about me?”

“Your past relationships, how did they start?” As soon as the question left her lips, she found that she was utterly riveted by the answer. Because, shockingly, she knew next to nothing about Regan’s dating life.

How had that happened?

Regan shrugged. “I haven’t really had relationships.”

Emma could only stare in disbelief. “Come on.”

“I’m serious,” Regan insisted.  

“That’s not… that doesn’t make sense.” This time, it was her that turned to study Regan closely, trying to reconcile that information. And trying not to think too hard about the fact that not too long ago, Emma would have probably said something like can’t imagine why not.

But, as she stared at Regan, she really couldn’t imagine why not.

“Why doesn’t it make sense?” Regan asked, staring at Emma with just as much confusion as Emma was feeling.

“I–” Damn, she really should have let that be, feeling the embarrassment sweep through her. “Just that, you know. You’re straightforward, you’re fun, you’re… pleasing to the eye.”

Regan’s eyebrows lifted, a smile playing at her mouth. “Oh? Pleasing to the eye?”

Rather than push and needle her, though, Regan leaned back with a little smirk on her face. A very attractive little smirk, something Emma had never seen.

Emma huffed out a breath, leaning back into her own seat and staring forward as she waited for the blush on her cheeks to fade.

She could feel Regan shrug against her. “There’ve been some guys that I’ve had things with. Relationship-lite. But, I don’t know. Dating in the age of apps – sucks. For most of us that aren’t Sutton, anyway. It’s all non-answers and half-assed conversations.”

Emma slowly nodded. “Is a relationship even something you want?”

God, there really was so much she didn’t know about Regan. And now that she’d thought about this – all of the romantic relationship aspects – she found that she really wanted to know.

She turned to face Regan again, watching as she nodded. “Yeah. I do.” She dug her perfect teeth into her lip as she looked up at Emma, eyes glinting and bright. “So, for my first official role as girlfriend – how am I doing?”

Emma swallowed hard, holding Regan’s gaze with her own. Finding it difficult to look away.

She was incredibly grateful as the subway came to a stop, giving her something else to focus on as she stood up. “Well, this is us.”

As Emma led them out of the subway station and down the sidewalk, those nerves that Regan had distracted her from, returned.

As if on a cue, Regan commented, “All right. I can literally see the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.”

“I know that this isn’t the same thing as meeting Kimberly, but, Emma, it’s going to be totally, completely fine.” Regan reached out and squeezed Emma’s hand, before rubbing her thumb over the back of it.

Much like last weekend at her mother’s house, Emma – crazily – felt it was so… soothing. Regan, rather than say anything else, was staring down at their hands.

Emma swiftly gave their interlocked hands a tug to pull Regan away from where she was about to walk right into a telephone pole.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked for at least the tenth time.

Regan snapped her eyes back up to Emma’s. “Fine – me? Fine. Anyway, your grandmother met Felicity, right?” Regan said her ex’s name with an inflection that Emma couldn’t quite decipher, having never heard it from her, before.

Weird.

“Yes. Several times.” The reminder of that wasn’t making her feel much better, especially as she could so clearly recall the uncomfortable quiet that would fall between Gram and Felicity, neither seeming able to or interested in coming up with conversation topics.

“And Felicity was… well-educated, organized, responsible, and ambitious,” Regan recited, listing the adjectives off. “I’ll just pretend to be those things, only better. So you won’t catch any flack from being with me.”

The guilt that dug into Emma at Regan’s words – at Emma’s own words being parroted back at her – was startling. Quite literally, it made her stumble over her steps at how strongly she felt it slam into her. This time, it wasn’t even guilt at kicking a puppy; it was genuine, real shame. About hurting Regan. “I shouldn’t have said that, before. And definitely not the way it came out.”

Regan shrugged. “We’ve moved on. I’m not saying it to throw it in your face.”

Emma used their still entwined hands to pull Regan to a gentle stop, feeling this urgency inside of her for Regan to hear her. “I know you aren’t; that’s not the point. The point is – you don’t need to pretend to be anything, okay? You’re smart and loyal and funny and kind, and this will probably go better because you aren’t like Felicity.” The raw honesty escaped her, propelled by that heavy feeling in her stomach. By the need to make Regan know that she meant it. “Felicity would never do what you’re doing for me.”

And as embarrassing as that truth was for Emma to admit, it was the truth.

“Well, why would you have needed your real girlfriend to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Regan asked, and the smile on her lips looked like something she’d wear while joking around, but her voice was hoarse.

And Emma didn’t laugh. “What I mean is that she wouldn’t have gone along with some silly scheme, even if it would have meant the world to me. She wouldn’t have sacrificed so much of her own time just to do something to help me out of an emotional bind. She, honestly, would have been very judgmental around the fact that I found myself in this situation in the first place just because I was afraid to face my own mother.”

Emma looked at Regan, earnestly. Very much needing her to see that Emma didn’t have the same stubborn beliefs about Regan, anymore. “So, I mean it. Don’t dwell on anything I said in the past, please. Because if you’re you, it’ll probably go a lot better.”

Even though she’d said her comments with the sole intention of making Regan feel better, she realized as she finished speaking that it had made herself feel better at the same time.

Because… yeah, Regan wasn’t Felicity.

And maybe they weren’t really in a relationship, but she couldn’t imagine that Regan would fall into awkward and uncomfortable silences with her gram, unable to find anything to talk about; Regan could find talk to anyone. Or that Gram would think Regan was pretentious and rude, because it was simply not the case.

The grin on Regan’s face was more an additional sunbeam than anything else, and Emma’s cheeks heated at being the recipient of it.

“Anyway.” Emma cleared her throat. “We’re almost there, so we should…”

Regan fell into step next to her, jauntily. Nearly skipping, as she agreed, “Don’t want to be late!”

Regan only let go of Emma’s hand as they entered Primrose Grove, so she could sign in at the front desk.

“This place looks really nice,” Regan whispered, leaning her entire body into Emma’s.

Ostensibly so that her voice didn’t carry, but Emma swallowed thickly at the proximity just the same.

“I didn’t expect this, when I imagined your grandmother in a nursing home.”

“It’s not a nursing home,” Emma corrected, steel in her tone, after finishing their sign-in. She shuddered to think about how much her gram would detest if Regan said she lived in a nursing home. “It’s an assisted living facility – and the assistance is all dependent on what the resident needs. There are a ton of people that live here who don’t need any daily assistance, like my gram.”

Regan, as she was wont to do, accepted Emma’s information with an easy nod. “Ah. So, it’s just like a place for older people to hang together. Like a fancy, elderly dorm.”

Emma’s mouth pulled into a laughing smile; honestly – shockingly – she really did like the way Regan saw the world, sometimes.

Regan beamed back at her, obviously pleased with herself, before her gaze landed on something over Emma’s shoulder, and she pointed eagerly at it. “Ohhhh, there’s a buffet dinner and bingo tonight! That should be fun.”

Emma turned to follow where she was pointing, and she ended up staring at the large calendar on the lobby wall, lined full of events that Primrose Grove was putting on. Indeed, there was – in bright, colorful letters – a notice for a buffet/bingo night, inviting all residents to come and join in.

“We probably won’t be going,” she informed her, regretfully. And the regret ran deep – first, because she desperately wished her gram would try to be more involved. Second, because the excited gleam in Regan’s eyes dimmed a little.

“Your grandmother’s not much of a joiner?”

“It’s not – she is. I mean, she could be. If she was more comfortable, she would be. She’s always been very…” How could Emma explain the intricacies of her gram? Especially so that an extrovert like Regan would understand. “Reserved. Shy, even.”

Emma wondered why no one ever talked about that; she never heard about what happened to older people that grew from shy, reserved youths into shy, reserved elderly.

“She just had a fairly regimented life, surrounded by the same people for decades, before she had to move here earlier this year because she had a heart attack. A second heart attack,” she amended, her stomach twisting as she so easily recalled the phone call she’d received from their old neighbor, delivering the news.

“Before, she always participated in events in her community, where she was comfortable. She worked at Rettol Academy–”

“Oh, so that’s why you went there,” Regan cut in, nodding as this information dawned on her.

Emma snapped her mouth shut as she eyed Regan in confusion. “I mean – yes. But how did you know that?” Emma didn’t often discuss her pre-college days; it wasn’t all that interesting.

“Your mom had a picture at her house, from your senior year,” Regan informed her.

Which – duh. Emma had spotted the picture, too. And she wasn’t surprised, anymore, that Regan was so observant.

Still, the knowledge that Regan seemed to see everything about her made Emma’s stomach flutter, and she quickly pushed past it.

“So – yeah. She worked right under the headmaster for over forty years, lived in the same apartment complex. It was easy for her to take part in community bingo nights and get-togethers. But… it’s been different, here,” she finished, quietly.

The sympathy on Regan’s face made Emma feel very… seen. Even before Regan quietly said, “And you’re worried about her.”

Emma automatically wanted to deny that – no, she wasn’t worried about her grandmother. Because her gram was strong and independent and had raised Emma all on her own. But… she found that she didn’t want to lie to Regan. That it felt impossible, on the receiving end of that imploring gaze.

“Yeah. I am,” she admitted, quietly. “But don’t bring that up to her. Please.”

She knew just how much Gram would hate being spoken of like that, especially to someone she didn’t even know.

“Sure. Clearly you get your need for privacy somewhere, and it obviously wasn’t from Kimberly.”

The scoff that burst from Emma’s lips at that was loud. Loud enough to garner several looks from residents walking by, prompting Emma to turn it into a cough, clearing her throat. “We should head to her room.”

“Lead the way.” Regan gestured for Emma to lead. And – strangely – she stayed a pace behind for the walk all the way down the hall. Which was fine, technically, but she swore she could feel Regan’s eyes on her, and it made Emma feel a tingle at the back of her neck.

When she peered over her shoulder at Regan, trying not to look as suspicious as she felt, Regan’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, and she had a smile on her face that looked… too innocent? Was that a thing?

She stopped in front of her gram’s suite, and Regan drew up next to her. As if she’d walked with her the whole time.

Before she could give Regan any last-minute instructions – what, exactly, Emma wasn’t sure – or even knock, the door opened.

And Gram stood before them, with her long, white hair pulled back into her signature bun, a look she’d worn almost daily for Emma’s entire life, in her straight-legged jeans and light blue button-down. She’d worn the same outfit in slightly different color variations on every single non-workday for… ever.

As always, seeing her brought Emma a rush of comfort. Even now, with the nerves still swimming through her.

“Gram! Were you waiting by the door?” She joked, bending down and pecking her grandmother on the soft, thin skin of her cheek, as she always did.

“Only when I realized you were two minutes later than you’d said to expect you,” Gram returned, patting Emma’s shoulder.

“Emma does have the pathological need to always be early,” Regan chimed in, with a ridiculously warm, indulgent smile as she looked up at Emma.

She felt her stomach flutter, because… wow, seriously, Regan was so good at this.

Realizing that this was her moment when Gram slightly raised her eyebrows at her – expecting Emma to use the manners Gram had taught her – she blushed, jumping into action. “Gram, this is Regan Gallagher. My girlfriend.”

Okay, that rolled off of her tongue easier than she’d expected. Especially to her grandmother, someone she’d never lied to.

Grateful for it, she turned to Regan and gestured at her gram, who, at barely five feet tall, stood with her head coming up to Emma’s chin. “And Regan, this is my gram. Sheryl Bordeaux.”

“You can call me Sherry,” her gram insisted, aiming a small, crooked smile at Regan.

Emma could read her grandmother like a book, and she knew that her gram was wondering what was the best way to greet Regan. A handshake? A warm pat on the back or shoulder, as she tended to do with Emma? A simple wave? Introductions had never been her grandmother’s strong suit.

It seemed any worry was superfluous, though, as Regan made the decision for them both. She went right in for a hug, the move fluid and natural. Emma could read the surprise on her gram’s face before she wrapped her arms around Regan’s waist, patting her softly on the back.

Even when Regan pulled back, she lightly cupped her gram’s elbows, smiling that enchantingly sunny smile. “You can just call me Regan.”

Gram chuckled, nodding as she did so. “That sounds good; easy to remember at the very least.”

“I guess you’re right,” Regan easily agreed, removing her hands from cupping Gram’s elbows, only to slide one arm through Gram’s, linking elbows. “And I would really love a tour of your place, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure if Emma’s told you, but I have a bit of a nosy nature.”

Was Emma crazy or was Regan… charming? Like, truly, genuinely charming? With that slightly self-deprecating, slightly unashamed grin, and the candid way with which she announced her nosiness?

“A tour of this old place? If that’s what you want…” Gram trailed off, looking at Emma briefly with an undecipherable glance, before turning her attention back to Regan. “Emma didn’t tell me about your curious nature, though.”

She trailed her grandma and Regan through the suite. Which wasn’t large, but it did have a kitchenette and an attached living room, bathroom, and bedroom. It was enough for her gram’s preferred belongings and favorite furniture, and it was bright and well-decorated.

“This is mostly, well, it.” Gram concluded, as they circled back into the kitchen area a minute later.

“It’s so great to see where Emma disappears to for hours every weekend,” Regan stated with such verve, it was impossible to think she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Well, it’s not much,” her gram muttered, in a tone that dug into Emma’s heart every time she heard it. A tone that reflected how deeply Gram missed the apartment she’d called home for nearly forty years, the one she’d moved into after marrying Emma’s grandfather.

Regan wheeled around, staring at Gram like she was crazy. “Shut up; this place is fucking amazing. I didn’t even know that there were places like this that existed before I knew you lived here!”

Emma held in a chortle, knowing that Regan’s knowledge had only been expanded ten minutes ago.

“Seriously; I love the idea of living in this kind of micro-community. Is there an age-cap? Isn’t it ageist to keep me out of living here?” If the comments came from anyone other than Regan, Emma would have thought it was corny. She would have rolled her eyes, because the words alone sounded like a ridiculous suck-up.

But Regan didn’t sound ridiculous or corny. She sounded so eager and earnest, it made both Emma and her gram laugh.

“You can feel free to take my place, if you want.” Gram offered, “I’ll move into your apartment with Emma.”

Immediately, Regan vehemently shook her head. “Uh… sorry. I have to rescind the comment. I’m not ready to give up living with Emma; I just got her.”

In a fluid move, she slid out of her linked arm with Gram, and returned to Emma’s side. True to Regan fashion, she stood close enough for their bodies to brush, as she reached down to lace her fingers through Emma’s.

Emma’s cheeks heated again, and she instinctively flexed her fingers around Regan’s, as she thought once more: Regan was so good at this.

Her gram seemed to be satisfied with that response, as she gave a small nod.

“Why don’t we sit?” She gestured at her small kitchen table. “We can get to know one another a bit more.”

“Actually, before we go that,” Regan jumped in before anyone moved. “I was kind of hoping that I could get a tour of the whole place? If you wouldn’t mind? Like I said, I’m really nosy.”

The winning smile on her face could have melted a solid block of ice. It was clearly enough to melt through her gram’s resistance to leaving the security of her suite, as Gram slowly nodded, “Sure; it would be good to get some more walking in today.”

“Great!” Regan squeezed Emma’s hand in hers, sending her a wink as Gram walked past them toward the door.

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, her own smile freezing in place. What was that about?

She didn’t have time to ponder it, as she was tugged along by Regan out into the main hallway.

“So, Sherry, I’m dying for you to tell me more about yourself,” Regan stated, her voice so encouraging, as they started walking.

Emma disengaged so that the three of them didn’t take up the entire hallway, walking a couple of steps back.

Her grandmother sent Regan a surprised look, eyebrows furrowed.

“I mean, Emma has already told me about you – you gave her those beautiful hummingbirds, and her favorite opal ring, which was a gift from your husband. That you worked at Rettol Academy. I know you raised Emma like a boss.” She turned that quick smile up at Emma, so brief but so full. “But I feel like I don’t know enough about you, you know? What do you like to do?”

There was a small flush on her gram’s cheeks, at having Regan’s direct and persistent attention on her. But Emma didn’t intervene, because she believed her gram looked… pleased.

“Well, uh. Hmm,” Gram hummed, thoughtfully, before she shrugged. “I’ve always liked knitting. When Emma was little, I made her the cutest hat; she wore it every winter until it started to unravel.”

Regan aimed another look at her over her gram’s head, eyes glinting. And Emma couldn’t do anything other than smile.

“I enjoy a fun game–”

“Oh, what kind?”

Sherry chuckled at Regan’s eagerness. “Cards, mostly. It’s always fun to try my hand at most card games, I suppose.”

Emma scoffed, loudly. “Oh, you suppose? Don’t listen to her; she’s a shark, and she will take you for literally everything you have.”

Her gram sent her a look over her shoulder. “Emma must really like you, being so willing to tell you about my secrets like that.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat as she ducked her head, rolling her lips so she couldn’t disagree. Why would she disagree, anyway?! She wanted her gram to think she was crazy about Regan.

“I’d love to play against you sometime,” Regan offered, bringing her gram’s attention back to her.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she muttered.

“Why don’t you tell me more about you?” Gram urged Regan.

It was only here, in this moment, that Emma finally recognized that look in her gram’s eyes. The measuring one, waiting to see which way the scale tipped in terms of Regan. Was she good enough for Emma? Was she the right one?

Emma’s stomach clenched again, and she made herself blow out a breath. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. Because Gram thought it was.

So, it did matter to her, what her gram thought of Regan. She wanted, she realized in this moment, very, very badly for Gram to approve of Regan. Because she did.

Not to date, she mentally back-peddled. Given that Regan was straight. Yes, total straight woman vibes all of the time. Most of the time, anyway. When she wasn’t being… odd.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything, really. Emma hasn’t told me all that much,” her gram tossed Emma another look, making Emma’s stomach sink.

Was this the moment? Did her gram doubt this… this sham? Was she onto Emma lying to her?

“I don’t mean offense,” Gram added, turning her attention back to Regan. She looked contrite.

But Regan waved her off, chuckling. “That sounds right; Emma isn’t much for sharing, unless you make her.”

Gram laughed. Emma furrowed her eyebrows, “Hey!”

Because – she’d shared! She’d shared a lot with Regan in the last few weeks. She’d told her about Kimberly, about Gram, her book reviewing account, stories about her job, about Felicity, about her love of magazines, about the Alton Fellowship, about her feelings on tv, about her insecurities.

Startled by her own thoughts, Emma nearly stumbled over her feet. She really had shared a lot with Regan, and she hadn’t even noticed just how much.

“You’re exactly right,” Gram confirmed, much to Emma’s chagrin. “I guess I hadn’t realized I was supposed to be asking.” Her voice took on that thoughtful quality, as she tilted her head to the side and studied Regan’s profile.

It was the same look she wore when she was trying to puzzle out which was the best decision in a card game, and Emma couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what she was thinking about Regan.

“Then again, you do look familiar,” Gram murmured.

Emma did stumble over her own two feet, catching herself on the handrail that lined the hallway. The cold bolt of fear struck through her.

Oh. Oh no.

Regan shrugged, entirely unaware of Emma’s distress. “I get that a lot.” She brought her free hand up, tapping at her chin. “I’m from Newton – just outside of Boston. Born and raised there. Well, actually, I lived in Springfield – western Mass – until I was seven. Then, we moved to Newton. I went to college for a year, in Massachusetts, but… it wasn’t for me. So, I moved here, because my best friend lived here.”

Emma found herself just as interested in Regan’s life story as her grandmother was.

“Sutton,” her gram mused. Which made sense, as Emma had told her several stories that involved Sutton over the last couple of years. Usually quick mentions of weekend plans or tales about their adventures being teaching assistants.

Regan’s smile flashed over her face. “Yes! Exactly. Um, in the last year, I’ve really come to find that I enjoy baking.”

“She’s really good at it,” Emma added, remembering how vulnerable Regan had been when she’d shared that with Emma.

The pleased flush that slid over Regan’s face made her feel satisfied.

Her gram’s eyes lit up. “A baker! How would you feel about making a cake? Everly’s is Sunday, and the woman Kimberly hired for the cake and all of the desserts literally just cancelled this morning – something about a flu going around at her bakery? I was on the phone with her before you arrived, and she’s a mess wondering how to fill the gap on such short notice.”

Right. Her mom had mentioned at the world’s most awkward family dinner that Everly was having a pool party this weekend. An invite had been offered to Emma and Regan, but she hadn’t really responded.

“Oh,” Regan’s lips formed a perfect circle, and she looked thrown off for the first time since they’d arrived. “I’ve never really been responsible for an event before.”

Gram shook her head. “Kimberly won’t mind; in fact, she’ll probably want to hire you even more because of it.”

Regan’s wide, dark eyes slid to meet Emma’s, her uncertainty clear.

“It’s all right if you don’t want to,” her gram said, assuredly. “And it is very last minute.”

“No, it’s… I mean, it is. It’s not that I don’t want to do it, I just…” Regan blinked down at her gram, before looking at Emma once more. Searching. Asking.

“If you want to do it, you should do it,” Emma found herself saying, trying to breathe through the knot in her stomach before it could really form.

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Gram asked, turning to face her as well. There was an excited light in her eyes that needled right into Emma.

It combined with the way she could hear Kimberly saying I know you hate me and the way Everly had stared at Emma like she’d hung the moon at dinner. The way she’d told her mom that she would try, and how she’d meant it.

“Yeah,” she whispered, before clearing her throat and speaking louder. “Yes, I’m going to the party.”

The party seemed like a good way to start trying, after all. Her mom and sisters would be preoccupied with other activities, other people. Emma would have time to simply exist there, trying to find her footing.

Regan’s gaze – which saw more than Emma wanted to allow – stayed on her for several more seconds. She only looked away when Emma nodded at her, feeling as sure as she could about it.

“In that case, yeah, I’ll totally do the desserts.”

“That is amazing. I’ll give you Kimberly’s number later.” Gram positively beamed, as they turned the corner at the end of the hallway.

The hallway that had the large rec room off to the right side, where the people were starting to settle in at tables for the buffet/bingo affair.

“You know what, Sherry? I, too, love games!” Regan announced, coming to a stop as she admired the set up in front of them. “And it seems we’ve stumbled right into one. What do you say?”

She turned to face Gram with such a hopeful look on her face that saying no really would have felt – again – like kicking a puppy.

Her grandmother paused, looking apprehensively around the room. “Well. I don’t know… it doesn’t seem there’s a lot of seats left…”

“Right there!” Regan pointed to their left, to a table that still had three open spots. Two others were taken by two older women Emma regularly saw hanging out in the common spaces.

Without hesitation, Regan walked over to the table. “Hey, are these seats taken?”

“Who’s asking?” One of the women asked, while her friend crowed with laughter and pushed her arm.

“Don’t listen to her, honey, they’re free.”

“Awesome! And I’m asking – I’m Regan, by the way.”

“You’re a little young to live here,” the first woman surmised as her friend rolled her eyes.

“You’re right, but I’m trying to get the hang of it early. Oh, and my girlfriend – Emma – her gram lives here.” She gestured to where Emma and her grandmother stood several feet back. “Sherry Bordeaux, you know her? She’s competitive as all hell – so I hear – though, so that should be your biggest concern.”

“We’ve seen her around,” the second woman – the cackler – said, offering Emma and her gram a wave. “I’m Bea, and this grumpy old broad is Phoebe. Come on over!”

Emma led her gram to the table, who gave a tentative smile to the women. “Ah… nice to meet you.”

“Nice to see you finally come out of your cave,” Phoebe responded, laughing lightheartedly.

Her gram breathed out a chuckle.

“Shush,” Bea hit her friend’s shoulder. “It can take a while to adjust; we get it. My biggest piece of advice to you, Sherry, is at buffet night? You should get in line early.”

Gram offered a small smile. “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

“Early meaning now, by the way,” Phoebe cut in, nudging Bea with her elbow as she nodded to the buffet set up. “Come on, I can’t be stuck behind Gary again.”

They hustled over to the buffet line as Emma, Regan, and her gram watched. Before Regan grinned, broadly. “I like them! They seem nice. And I always appreciate a good tip about beating a line.” She ran her gaze over the rest of the room, landing on the beverage station on the other side of the room. “Ohhh, let’s grab drinks first. I’ll go – what would you like?”

Gram’s eyebrows drew together before lifting high on her forehead, looking like some sort of realization. “Right! I finally remember…” She ran her eyes over Regan’s face again, her smile knowing. “It all makes sense.”

The fear from minutes ago struck all over again, and Emma’s eyes widened with it. No. No, no.

Regan’s confusion was palpable, as she threw a look at Emma. Who shook her head back. No.

“You’re the barista,” Gram asserted, her tone imbued with understanding.

Those terror erupted in nervous butterflies. “Yeah, she’s a barista.” Emma tried to head-off where she knew this was going.

But, unsurprisingly, her gram wouldn’t be dissuaded. Not when she looked like everything had finally come together for her, as she stared at Regan, her smile growing.

“I’ll be honest with you, Regan. I was very confused, by this whole… situation. By Emma seemingly not ever mentioning your relationship to me, before. Emma’s a good girl, she’s got a level-head.”

“Thanks, Gram,” she interjected, hoping that she could derail anything coming next. “Why doesn’t Regan go get those drinks?”

Regan, this time, was the one that ignored her. She put on a small, understanding grin. “I know; Emma has been really private about our relationship.”

“Even so” Her gram shook her head. “I realize, now, that it wasn’t out of the blue.” She turned to look at Emma, a look that was both excited and understanding reflected in her gaze. “I wish you’d told me that your little crush on the barista had becoming something more.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her face heat so quickly, so strongly, she was sure smoke must be exiting her ears. Those butterflies in her stomach morphed into something more akin to frogs.

Maybe, she hoped – stupidly and desperately – maybe Regan wouldn’t push it. Maybe Regan would do the least Regan thing in the world, and –

“Crush?” Regan echoed, sounding utterly mystified.

Emma tried to hold in a groan.

“That’s why you looked so familiar when you walked in, earlier. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.” Her gram looked between Emma and Regan. “The summer before Emma started her TA job, she’d finally showed me around campus, her favorite spots. And we went into your coffee shop… Tipped On?”

“Topped Off,” Regan corrected, looking like she was a kid on Christmas morning.

Emma wanted to bury her face in her hands. Actually, she wanted to bury her entire body in the ground.

“Right, Topped Off. And she pointed you out.”

“She pointed me out,” Regan echoed, the amazement dripping from her tone.

“Like I said: it all makes more sense for me, now,” Gram finished, with an accepting nod.

Well, Emma was glad her grandmother was finding peace at the same time that she was simultaneously making Emma regret her life.

“Regan, why don’t you go get those drinks?” Emma suggested, abruptly. “Why don’t I help you?”

Yes. She needed to separate Regan from her grandmother before this got even more out of hand. That was priority number one, and what she focused on as she put her hand on Regan’s lower back and made her start walking away.

She needed to use a little more oomph than she’d expected, because Regan seemed to be glued to the spot.

“You had a crush on me?” Regan wasted no time in asking, staring up at Emma in wonder.

Emma’s heart fluttered as her stomach clenched and her legs felt a little weak and she remembered vividly how she’d felt in freshman year when she’d gotten paired to work on her science project with Christy Logan, the prettiest girl at their school.

“No,” she was quick to deny, vehemently shaking her head. She tossed a look over her shoulder at her grandmother, who had finally taken her seat at their table and was looking over her bingo card.

“You’re calling your grandmother a liar, then?”

“No!” She denied, again, pressing her palms to her cheeks and wishing they would return to a regular body temperature. “I – it wasn’t a real crush,” she hissed, staring Regan down. “It was… I just…” How did she possibly explain this and get out of this situation without making a fool out of herself?! “I was going through a shitty time because Felicity had broken up with me, and I’d started going to Topped Off, and I thought you were cute. That’s all.”

Really, that was it. Basically.

Regan gasped, her mouth falling open with a smile of shocked delight. “You thought I was cute?!”

Emma squeezed her eyes closed, cursing her gram for the first time in her life. “Like that’s news.”

“It is to me! And I would like to know more. Everything, actually.”

“There’s nothing more to tell! I obviously think you’re attractive, Regan, I’ve told you that before. Like when we were going to Kimberly’s, and you were wearing…” She trailed off, swallowing thickly. As she often did, when the scantily-clad image of Regan appeared in her mind’s eye.

Which happened disturbingly frequently.

It wasn’t Emma’s fault, not really! Not when she was living with Regan and had constant reminders all of the damn time about how much her body betrayed her and responded to Regan.

“You thinking that I’m not bad looking and you being attracted to me are two very different things,” Regan corrected, shaking her head slowly. As if she just couldn’t get over what she’d heard.

There was a gleam in her eyes that Emma didn’t understand, didn’t trust, and didn’t like the way it made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“It’s not a big deal,” she grit out, pouring her gram a glass of water. Unfortunately, in this moment, she was having trouble convincing herself of how not a big deal this was.

But, it wasn’t a big deal; people had meaningless, irrational, silly “crushes” on random people in their daily routines all of the time. People you see on the subway on your work commute, the person that lives down the hall from you that you exchange a smile with but don’t ever really talk.

Baristas, with bright smiles who always remember your order.

Then, those crushes fade. Because you realize the person on the subway has gross politics. Or the neighbor moves away.

Or because the barista spills coffee down your shirt and proceeds to spontaneously pop up in your life to constantly remind you that you two definitely don’t work as a duo in the real world.

“Big enough deal for you to tell your grandmother about it,” Regan’s response was cheeky and downright jaunty. In fact, Emma felt as though Regan might start floating away.

God, of course Regan was going to have a field day with this.

“I – it was because she was worried about my getting over Felicity. So, I told her that I knew I was starting to move on, because I… because I was attracted to you. That’s it.”

Still, the smile didn’t leave Regan’s face. In fact, she was smiling so widely, so brightly, Emma wondered if it would ever fade.

“It was before you spilled the coffee on me and ripped my shirt open, so I didn’t really know you,” she added for good measure.

Regan shrugged both of her shoulders, clearly unbothered by the fact.

Somehow, Regan’s excitement in learning about Emma’s attraction – she would not call it a crush – calmed Emma, a little. At the very least, Regan was never awkward or uncomfortable, and she would never hold it against Emma. If anything, she seemed… thrilled.

“I’m going back to the table, now.” She needed a second away from Regan’s insanely beautiful too-excited smile. Damn her grandmother!

“I’ll get us a place in the buffet line, sweetheart!” Regan called after her.

Emma took a deep breath at the way her stomach clenched in that not-entirely-unpleasant way.

Finally able to take a deep breath, butterfly-free, as she walked back to the table, she placed the glass down in front of her gram. “Here you go. I’ll, uh, I’ll join Regan in the line in a second to grab us dinner in a second.”

She couldn’t help but toss a glance toward Regan, who continued to absolutely beam. Even as she animatedly spoke to the woman next to her in line, she was grinning around her words.

All because of a so-called crush that Emma didn’t even have anymore! Even if you could call it a crush in the first place… which, she wouldn’t have.

“I admit, honey, I was a little concerned. When I’d heard about this relationship. Worried that maybe you’d rushed into something or… I don’t know. But I really like Regan,” Gram said, placing her hand over Emma’s, giving her a warm squeeze.

“I really like her, too.” It was only after she spoke that she was struck by how sincerely she meant that.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking over at Regan once more. This time, Regan was already staring at her. Still smiling.

Emma could only blink back at her, her heart beating a little harder in her chest, as if buzzed to life by the exuberance of that grin. Weird.  

Still, she stared. Regan was funny and unguarded and observant and… mostly, she was a joy to exist in the same sphere with, and Emma really did like her. She liked her enough that it was unsettling when she really thought about it.

“I’d hope so.” Gram chuckled, pulling her out of her own thoughts.

Emma pulled her gaze away from Regan, managing out a chuckle. “Right.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Really, I’m just so grateful, Regan. You have no idea,” Kimberly effused for at least the tenth time on their phone call. “I have no idea what I would have done, otherwise. And Everly is ecstatic that you’re going to be the one making the cake! And that you and Emma are coming to the party!”

Regan was slightly out of breath as she responded, “I’m excited, too! I just – I need you to know, again, that I don’t have any professional experience with this–”

“You’ll be amazing. Really, without you, my daughter would be having a ninth birthday without a cake, and we’d be hosting a horde of elementary schoolers at a party without any desserts! And all of the pictures you sent me last night looked delicious.”

Kimberly really wasn’t shy about her praise, and Regan found herself soaking it in, even as she ran down the street, dodging in and out of people as she finally approached the doors to the Fox and Hyde Hotel.

“Sorry to cut this a little short, Kimberly, but I really have to go. Text me, though, if you need to!”

“Okay! I’ll see you and Emma tomorrow.”

Regan simultaneously disconnected the call and slowed her pace as she walked through the doors, into the blessedly air conditioned lobby.

She hadn’t known what she’d been getting into yesterday, when she’d agreed to make the desserts for Everly’s birthday party with only two days’ notice. All she’d known was that it did sound like a fun challenge and, mostly, she’d found that she didn’t want to say no to Sherry.

She wanted Emma’s grandmother to like her. To approve of her.

And she’d wanted Emma to feel proud about being with her, even if it wasn’t real. To Emma’s family, Regan was Emma’s girlfriend. And Regan had realized yesterday just how deeply she’d taken that title on.

It made her feel good about herself to be able to jump in and help Emma’s family in a crisis. It made her feel like these people – the people that loved Emma and wanted the best for her – could think that Regan really was that person.

It made her feel even better to know that Emma might think so, too. That she would think that Regan was dependable. That even if her baking wasn’t a serious career or whatever, it was a skill Regan possessed, something she brought to the table that people could be impressed by.

And she wanted, she’d realized, for Emma to be impressed.

Regan – 11:01AMOff the phone with your mom. Apparently, Everly has a deep enjoyment of unicorns? First time making a unicorn cake, but I’m going to give it my all. Think I can manage it?

That was the other thing – she didn’t need to text that bit of information to Emma. It wasn’t something Emma necessarily needed to know, but Regan wanted to tell her. She wanted to open a line of communication with Emma, like, all of the time.

Emma – 11:02AMSomehow, it really speaks of the perfect Regan vibe to me

Regan grinned down at her phone, her stomach sparking with a pleased warmth at Emma’s reply. And though she was itching to answer immediately, as soon as she glimpsed up, she realized she was only a few feet away from her sister.

Who was watching her expectantly.

Disappointed that her texting with Emma would have to be cut off for now, Regan reluctantly tucked her phone into her back pocket. It was all right, she reasoned with herself, because she would be able to see Emma later.

Slowly, she approached the table. Only to pause as she went to pull out the chair opposite Audrey as she realized, “Um… why are there only two chairs at this table?” She pointed at Audrey, then to her own chair, then circled her index finger to gesture at the small table that was clearly only appointed for duos.

“Because it’s only you and I having brunch…?” Audrey responded, as if Regan were being ridiculously obtuse.

“What do you mean, it’s only you and I for brunch?” Regan asked, unable to connect whatever dots she was being presented with in a way that made sense.

“Exactly what I said.” Audrey leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her lap as she flicked her eyes down at the chair Regan was still clutching the back to. “Are you going to sit down or not?”

“I don’t know.” Regan glimpsed down at her empty chair as well, wondering if there was some joke being played on her. A whoopie cushion? No, Audrey would rather die than sit through that in a public place. A scorpion? No, there was no way Audrey could have made it stay still for so long. Besides, her sister’s mind games had always been more mental than physical.

Audrey sighed, a frown tugging at her mouth. “If you’re going to be so ridiculous, then we can just go home and forget about this; you’re already late, anyway.”

“I’m not trying to be ridiculous!” Regan shot back, before she plunked herself down in the chair. “And it’s only by two freaking minutes.”

She was giving up texting with Emma – being home with Emma! – for this. Whatever this was.

“I just don’t understand–” she broke off, the dawning hitting her mid-sentence. “Oh. Is this you telling me that you don’t want me to be in your wedding party, anymore? You do it one-on-one instead of in front of your group of friends, but in a public place so I can’t make a scene?”

“I’m not sure I believe you wouldn’t make a scene, first of all. Secondly, no. Why are you acting like two sisters having brunch together is the strangest thing to happen in your life?”

Regan stared at her sister, wondering if that was rhetorical. But when Audrey lifted a blonde eyebrow at her, she realized she was actually waiting for an answer. “Because… it is?”

Before Audrey could respond, Regan shook her head. “We’ve never gone out to brunch together! Or any meal, for that matter. No breakfast, lunch, dinner. Happy hour drinks. Not once in our adult lives, despite the fact that you’ve worked in the city I’ve lived in for four years, have you asked me to brunch. So, yeah, it’s weird.”

“You’ve never asked me, either,” Audrey shot back, pursing her lips.

Regan felt like she was losing her actual freaking mind, here!

“Look, I know I’m only in your wedding party at all because it would have looked bad, like we aren’t some picture-perfect family, and Mom and Dad would have murdered you, otherwise.” She’d known it since she’d received the formal bridesmaid invitation at the beginning of the year. First, upon receipt, she’d been baffled, before she’d put it all together. “You don’t need to keep inviting me to these brunches or whatever. It’s not like I’m going to tell on you or something.”

Hell, even if Regan would go to tattle on Audrey to their parents, it’s not like their parents had ever sided with Regan on anything, ever.

She could see the way the muscle in Audrey’s jaw tightened, and she fully expected the tell-off she was going to receive.

Only for Audrey to release a slow breath as she muttered, “Mom and Dad didn’t make me ask you to be in my wedding.”

Regan let out a disbelieving scoff. “Yeah, right.” That ugly feeling reared its head inside of her, and she lifted her hand to pick lightly at the pristine tablecloth. “You’ve never wanted me around, Audrey, just like Mom and Dad. Not only is it stupid to pretend otherwise when it’s just the two of us, but I don’t want you to.”

“You’ve never wanted to be around, Regan,” Audrey’s voice was low and tight. “Not me, anyway.”

Regan whipped her gaze to meet the burning look in her sister’s. “What the hell are you talking about? You know how Mom and Dad treat me. You know they think I’m a total fuck-up.” Regan knew her sister knew that, because her parents had never been shy about saying it. Maybe not in those exact words, but Regan’s earliest memories with her parents were of being scolded, reprimanded, lectured. For everything she did. “Even my ADHD is my own fault; I should have the internal fortitude to overcome such issues on my own, and shame on me for not being strong enough.”

Actual words her parents had said to her, more than once.

“I’ve never said that to you, have I?” Audrey challenged, as she tilted her jaw up, superiorly.

Regan was already opening her mouth to argue that fact, as she sifted through as many memories as she could summon, and…

“Fine,” she deflated, slightly. “But you sat right there behind them, how many times? And you never stuck up for me. Not once.”

Maybe she couldn’t recall Audrey verbally supporting their parents in their assessment of Regan, but she could easily picture the way Audrey would physically align herself with them, glaring down at Regan as she received her dressing down. It was a very clear line.

“What did you want me to say?” Audrey hissed. “Every time you were unhappy, you ran right off to be with Sutton and the Spencer’s.”

Sutton and the Spencer’s would be a great band name, Regan errantly thought, but didn’t have the wherewithal to even joke about it. Not while her sister’s eyes glittered with so much pure resentment, it slammed into Regan with a startling intensity.

“You were ensconced into their actual picture-perfect family, getting your hair braided by Katherine and going on family vacations with them and parading around like you were one of their own fucking children.” The unfettered emotion in Audrey’s voice was something Regan had never heard before. Her sister’s eyes glinted in anger, hurt, frustration, and… well, other emotions that Regan, frankly, didn’t know her sister well enough to name.

“I didn’t have that; I had to stay at home with our parents, who took every fucking ounce of pressure that they couldn’t put on you and added it to my back. Regan got a C in math, so Audrey better have an A+. Regan dropped out of college, so Audrey better be getting her MBA after she graduates summa cum laude.” She swigged, viciously, from her mimosa. “If we can’t brag about Regan because she’s a single barista, then we need to be able to brag doubly about Audrey – climbing the ladder at her company, getting married to the right person.”

Regan could only stare, shaking her head slightly against everything she was hearing. She wanted to argue with her. She wanted to disagree, to tell Audrey that wasn’t how this had all gone down.

But the thing was, even if that had been a side of their parents Regan hadn’t personally experienced – given that they’d given up on her long before they’d gotten to that point – she knew very well that this was who they were.

And… it didn’t feel good. She’d wondered, when she’d been younger and had felt so fucking terrible by being such a disappointment to her family, how good it would feel to be able to take Perfect Audrey down a peg.

Only, right now, as her sister’s eyes filled with tears, Regan felt awful.

Like her entire worldview was turning on its head. She down at the immaculately set up table for several long seconds, trying to figure out how, exactly, she could reconcile this. How she could understand this – this shifted world order.

“I’m sorry,” she found herself saying, eyebrows knitting together as she looked at Audrey.

And for the first time in literally forever, she felt like there was someone staring back at her that she could potentially understand.

“I’m sorry that was your experience with them. I’m not okay with you taking it out on me,” she was quick to add, because years of their shitty relationship couldn’t be undone by Regan understanding Audrey’s perspective. But… it was a start, maybe. “I wish you’d said something about it a long time ago.”

“You were too busy with Sutton.” Audrey muttered into her glass before taking another swig.

“Why do you have to say her name like that?” Regan demanded, not even able to summon the anger she typically felt. She just – she just wanted to understand, now.

“Because you were always so busy being her sister, you never cared about being mine!” The words burst from Audrey’s mouth, and seemed to startle them both.

At the very least, Regan knew she was startled. Baffled and shocked, she could only stare across the table for several long seconds before she found her ability to speak, “You didn’t even want me to be your sister. When I became friends with Sutton, you used to talk about how you were thrilled that I wasn’t following you around anymore.”

Because that had been exactly what she’d done, when they were little. Before their dad started working for Sutton’s, they’d gone to a private school. Though Regan had transferred in the second grade, she hadn’t had any friends there. Any friends, there. She’d been known as the weird girl since day one of kindergarten. Her only solace was in her older sister, and Regan had followed her around like a lost puppy.

Audrey had hated it, complained loudly and often about not being able to get rid of her.

“I was ten, of course I complained about you being my shadow! But I–” She broke off, staring at Regan with big, sad eyes, the heated fight in her fading. “I missed you, when I didn’t have you at all, anymore. And I never got you back. You were barely ever home once you had Sutton in your life, and you were miserable the entire time you had to be in our house.”

Regan nearly shot back can you blame me? But the words didn’t leave her throat. Because she saw, very clearly, that Audrey did understand. That maybe, despite Audrey being the perfect golden child, it hadn’t been a label she’d worn in victory, but in necessity.

“You know that time dad’s ties ended up being slashed up?” Regan asked, the memory popping up, unbidden. “Like, all of them.”

Audrey’s expression was a picture-perfect blend of confusion and intrigue. Honestly, Regan felt it inside of herself, too, but… but she wanted to say this to her sister. She found, in this moment, she needed to say it.

Audrey slowly nodded. “Of course; he lost his mind. And no one could ever figure out where that stray cat had come from.”

“That was me,” she confessed. “I wanted to perform in the sixth-grade talent show as a magician, and I couldn’t master that trick, where you pull all of the ties out of your sleeves. So, I got it in my head that if I cut them up, I’d be able to pull them out seamlessly. You know, if they were thinner and flimsier.”

“Sure…” Audrey agreed, clearly placating her but Regan would take it. She blinked several times. “But, Regan, there was a cat in the house.”

“Well, obviously, the tie trick didn’t work. And I panicked when I realized how badly his ties were messed up and that I was going to get in so much trouble. So, I snuck out after bedtime and brought the cat in–”

Audrey was shaking her head, ludicrous laughter spilling out of her mouth. “Where did you even find the cat? It had one eye.”

“His name was Blackbeard, thank you very much. And he was mine; he lived in the shed in the back of the yard. The one on the edge of the property, that Dad never got around to tearing down after he got the new one built.”

Her sister’s laughter grew louder, before she slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet down when she seemed to realize it. “So that’s why you took it upon yourself to catch the cat. You know, I always thought it was weird that you took such a personal offense to Dad’s tie collection being ruined.”

Audrey studied her closely, her eyebrows knitting together. “I think… it might be nice to get to know you.”

Regan found herself studying her sister, back. “I think that could be arranged.”

***

Regan got home two hours later, collapsing onto the couch with a loud exhale as she dropped her forearm over her eyes, utterly exhausted.

Utterly exhausted, and she still had to go into Topped Off for the night shift, given that two of her typical weekend staff were on vacation.

What a truly crazy, batshit brunch. What a worldview-altering morning. What –

“Hey,” Emma’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I didn’t realize you were home yet.”

Regan slid her arm away from her face to look up at Emma, who stood a few feet away from the couch in the doorway of the kitchen, an apple in her hand.

At the very sight of her, Regan felt something inside of her spark to life, and she didn’t even realize she was smiling until she felt herself doing it. “Hey, yourself. I just got here.”

Emma frowned as she studied where Regan was laying in repose. “Are you all right?”

Yeah, there it was. This swooping, pleasant feeling inside of her stomach that Emma not only cared if Regan was okay, but that she noticed – so easily – that something was off.

“I’m fine. I think.” She was honestly going to need to take stock of everything with Audrey, later. When she was alone. Which was what she always did, when it came to her family issues. After she had some time to think and settle with her feelings, she would download to Sutton.

It was the way she’d operated for a very long time.

Only, as she stared up at Emma, she found that the words were begging her to vocalize them. She found that she wanted to share what happened this morning – that she wanted to share it with Emma, in particular.

She wanted Emma to know. To know her. The things that made her who she was.

The realization was startling, especially because Regan hadn’t discussed her issues with her family with someone that wasn’t Sutton in… ever. Even in her sorta-kinda-relationships with the guys she’d dated, this was a topic left unexplored. She hadn’t wanted to divulge, and they’d never asked.

Trying to comb through how she felt about this turn of events, she slowly pushed herself to sit up.

“I, um, I had brunch with my sister, and it went really… unexpectedly.” That seemed like the most fitting word.

“You have a sister?” Emma asked, incredulously.

Regan laughed, ridiculously charmed by the baffled look on Emma’s face, her eyebrows lifted so high on her forehead in consternation.

“I do. Audrey. Three years older than I am. Getting married soon. I’m one of her bridesmaids,” she elaborated.

As she talked, Emma’s mouth fell open in obvious bewilderment.

“How do I not know any of this?” Emma’s voice was demanding. But not at Regan, she realized, as Emma drew a hand through her hair. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years. We live together. And we’ve actively been hanging out for weeks, now.” Emma’s lips pulled into a deep frown, as those crystal-clear eyes slid back to Regan’s. “I feel like I should know this about you by now.”

Regan waved her hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

Emma scoffed. “It feels like one,” she asserted, her voice so soft but so intent, it melted something inside of Regan. Something soft and fluttery. “Also, you’ve literally met my whole family and know my entire life story. So, it seems crazy that I wouldn’t know your basic family facts. Like that your sister exists and lives here in the city.”

One side of Regan’s mouth quirked into a small grin. “Let’s just say: you’re not the only one that has a complicated relationship with your family.”

“Regan, come on.” Emma’s insistence started blooming into this feeling inside of Regan. Something sweet, making her heart skip a beat.

“It’s true,” she insisted, unsure why Emma was so insistent that it wasn’t.

It seemed as though Emma was able to read Regan’s confusion, as she gestured helplessly toward her. “I just… you seem so secure in yourself. In your place in the world. You come off as someone who had a very secure upbringing.”

Regan chuckled darkly, both tickled by the idea and how absolutely incorrect it was. “Couldn’t be more wrong, actually.” She drew in a deep breath, her stomach fluttering with unexpected nerves. The nerves born from this desire to tell Emma more. “You know how you found it so strange, that I moved here to be with Sutton?”

She could so easily recall the way Emma had stared at Regan like she was crazy for that.

Apparently, so could Emma. “Of course. You aren’t the only one that remembers things about the other.”

To Regan’s delight, Emma walked closer to sit down on the couch with her. Quickly, Regan pulled her legs up from where they’d been sprawled over the cushions. She sat cross-legged, facing Emma, who mirrored her.

As they sat facing one another on their couch, Regan was able to inhale Emma’s subtle but enticing scent… and totally lost her train of thought. All she could really think at this moment was how much she enjoyed this. This closeness. They shared the same physical space when watching a television show or eating dinner together, but this – where they were each other’s point of focus – felt very different.

She liked it.

“Is there more?” Emma asked several beats later, hesitantly. “I mean, you don’t have to share.”

Right. Regan blinked, realizing that she’d forgotten why Emma was sitting so close to her, staring so intently into her eyes.

“No, I want to tell you.” God, it was so weird, because she really did.

She fiddled with the edges of the throw blanket over the back of the couch, trying to figure out how to explain herself to Emma. How to explain her family and her life in a way that she hoped made sense.

“Growing up, Audrey and I couldn’t have been more… different.” She settled on, smiling mirthlessly at how very true that was. “She was the golden child, and I was the fuck up.”

Flicking her gaze to Emma, Regan’s nerves momentarily spiked. They were in a good place, the two of them. A really, really good place; the best place. A place Regan was finding herself increasingly addicted to spending time in.

But as she so vividly recalled Emma’s feelings about her prior to this good place they were in, she realized – she was a little worried that Emma knowing what her family thought of her might remind Emma that she’d once felt the same thing. Not too long ago, either.

Regan didn’t know what that would do to these emerging feelings she had for Emma, but she knew that the very thought of Emma thinking poorly of her made her stomach clench tight enough to make her feel sick.  

There was no trace of judgment on Emma’s face, though. No look that said ah, yeah, I totally get why your family thought you were a loser. There was curiosity there. A quiet sympathy, even.

It bolstered her to keep going. To think… maybe Emma really would get her.

“You thought I was crazy to move here, because you see Sutton as my best friend. And she is, but… for most of my life, she’s also been my family.” Regan searched Emma’s gaze with her own, hoping she could see how strongly Regan meant that. “After high school, when she came to New York, I stayed back and went to Brandeis. Because it was what my parents wanted, and… there was still a part of me that wanted them to think I wasn’t a total waste of space. A little piece of me that wanted them to see that – I wasn’t their screw-up kid. That I could be successful, or something. I don’t really know.”

She shrugged, clearing her throat as she looked back down at the blanket. Even though she didn’t feel that way anymore – at least, not so acutely and much more infrequently – she remembered very vividly what it had been like. Just wanting to do one thing right in the eyes of her parents.

“And that’s the normal thing, right? You finish high school, and you go to college. You say goodbye to seeing your best friend all of the time, because they are on a different path in life. It seems like everyone else can do it. Go to school, slog through a degree even if you don’t love it. Accept that the closeness you share with your high school bestie isn’t going to be forever. But…”

She dug her teeth into her lip, her insides churning as she could so clearly recall how that year had felt, even if it had been eight years ago, now.

“It sucked.” She surmised, simply. “It sucked so, so much. And not just in a I miss my friend way. But in a…”

She paused, the words catching in her throat as she lifted her eyes up to Emma’s, who was watching her with such a close, intent focus.

Suddenly sheepish, Regan dropped her hands to her knees, gripping them tightly. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

“Okay, maybe, but when has that ever stopped you before?” Emma teased, but her voice was gently coaxing.

A nervous titter escaped her. “True.”

Though, the difference was that Regan rarely got in her own head, worried that she was going to sound silly. In fact, she was all-too willing to fall on her sword and play the fool – play into what people so often thought of her – in order to direct a situation to an easy resolve.

Only, she didn’t want that with Emma. She didn’t want Emma to think of her as silly or as a fool, in any way. She wanted – badly – to keep the respect that she’d started earning in Emma’s eyes.

But she only wanted it if Emma really meant it.

So, she continued. “I missed Sutton in a way that – everything felt wrong. Like, there was one person in my entire life that didn’t think that I was too much or… or not enough, or both at the same time.” She rolled her lips, eyebrows furrowing as that unpleasant feeling burrowed into her stomach. “My parents feel that way about me. And I always thought my sister did, too. It wasn’t even something I inferred, you know? Like, it was the truth.”

She slid a look toward Emma. “That’s why I felt kind of sensitive, to you thinking the same way.” Her voice fell quiet, that last part leaving her lips unexpectedly. She bit her cheek, because she hadn’t meant to say that part.

Quickly, she shook her head and pushed on. “Not a big deal. Anyway… I did have other friends back home. People I could hang out with sometimes, or whatever. But it wasn’t the same thing. Like I wasn’t home with them.” Regan shrugged, heavily, dropping her hands into her lap, away from the blanket. “I was going to a college I didn’t even deserve to go to – my grades weren’t that great,” she admitted, scoffing out a laugh. “Your irritation at the idea of me and my familial privilege was definitely right about that.”

“And my undiagnosed ADHD was a total bitch, all the while I was pursuing a major that I didn’t understand and didn’t want to follow – my parents were paying for me to get a business degree. Something useful,” she parroted their choice phrase. “And I was surrounded by people that didn’t understand me. Because that is what you’re supposed to do after high school.”

Regan straightened her spine, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t follow Sutton here just because living with my best friend in New York would be super fucking awesome.” She gave an amused look to Emma. “Following your best friend here is weird and not what you’re supposed to do; I get that.”

Emma didn’t mirror her amusement. Instead, she looked at Regan with wide, insightful sharp eyes, looking undeniably guilty.

But Regan didn’t want Emma to feel guilty of her past judgments, she really didn’t.

She dropped her hand down to rest over Emma’s, stroking her thumb over it subconsciously, wanting to soothe it away. “I followed Sutton here because I hated every second of my life, back home. I was lonely and miserable, and I felt stupid, all of the time. Even though I was living with my family, I’d never felt more alone in my entire life.”

“So, even though it wasn’t what my parents approved of – like, they really, really did not approve – I decided that I had to do what would make me happy. Since when had I ever made my family happy or proud, anyway?” A self-deprecating smile playing on her lips, only a hint of an old bitterness burning the back of her throat.

But that had been her big turning point. The moment that she’d really decided for herself what her life was going to be.

“This is my life, not theirs. And I’m going to live it for me. So… yeah. I’m managing a coffee shop, and I don’t have glamorous plans or huge ambitions. But I like my life.” She nodded as she spoke, affirming her own words. Feeling them settle inside of her in the right place.

“You don’t have to prove that to me,” Emma spoke for the first time in what felt like forever, her voice firm, as she searched Regan’s gaze with her own. “I know we had a rocky couple of years.” Her lips pulled into a smile, quick and sharp and captivating. “But things are different, now. The way I see you, is different now,” she softly amended.

Regan’s smile froze on her face as her heart skipped a beat. Skipped several beats, actually. Was this what swooning felt like?

She’d been having that thought with increasing frequency, when it came to Emma. Yesterday, when Emma had stopped on the way to her gram’s and told Regan, so sincerely, that she thought Regan was funny and loyal and kind and smart, her knees had gone weak. And then when Emma’s gram had told Regan that Emma’d had a crush on her…

Even now, the memory of it stole Regan’s breath, making butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“What happened with your sister today?” Emma questioned, tilting her head to the side. “If it’s okay to ask.”

“Um.” Regan shook her head, trying – very, very hard – not to get too swept up in those thoughts. After all, Emma had denied having a crush; only insisting that she’d found Regan attractive. Still.

Finally, she re-focused her attention on their actual conversation. “It’s definitely okay to ask.”

Especially because Emma wouldn’t have asked, if she wasn’t invested in Regan. Miss Privacy Please would never ask… if she didn’t really want to know.

And an electric thrill shot through her at the fact that Emma wanted to know more about her.  

“It was just – it was weird,” she mused. “My sister lives in Stamford, with her fiancé. And we don’t have a relationship, not really. Which is why you’ve never heard me talk much about her. But… I don’t know.” She dropped her gaze down to where she realized her hand was still on Emma’s.

Transfixed, she watched her own fingers stroke softly over the back of Emma’s hand. Then watched in fascination as the hair on Emma’s arms stood up.

“I, uh, I just… I’ve always thought one certain way about my sister. Thought she was very similar to my parents. But it turns out that I might be wrong. She invited me to brunch today, just because she wanted to talk. Just us, together.” Regan could still hear her own shock in her voice.

“Did brunch go well?” Emma asked, hesitantly. Those crystal-clear eyes stayed trained on Regan’s face, watching for any sign of upset Regan might express.

“It did.” Yeah, she was still shocked. “I think so, anyway. I think maybe we’re both kind of learning about each other.”

“I’m not surprised that your sister might be starting to see you in a different light,” Emma asserted, and her tone was so confident. “You have a lot of surprising sides to you.”

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

Regan didn’t know which one to properly think; all she knew was that she could feel that same feeling from yesterday. The one where Emma said something and made Regan feel so swept up.

“And I’m glad that your brunch sounded like it went well; if you were feeling down, I was about to offer to sing karaoke with you,” Emma informed her, the slightest, cutest smile quirking at her lips.

The mirroring smile that had been sliding onto Regan’s lips froze. Completely froze in place, as she stared wide-eyed at Emma. “Really? Can I take it back? It went terribly. Horribly. Awfully.”

Emma scoffed out a laugh. “Yes, really. There were going to be stipulations, of course. It was only going to be karaoke here at home, first of all. I’m not going to anywhere in public and singing.”

“Secondly?” Regan pressed, eagerly.

God, she felt – enamored? Was this what that feeling was?

This feeling of her stomach swooping low, making her feel impossibly light, at the sight of Emma’s adorable smile. At the fact that Emma was going to offer to sing karaoke with her to cheer her up, something Emma would never typically choose to do?

“Technically, there’s no different second reason; it was a double-down on the first rule.”

Regan’s heart pounded in her chest, so hard she could hear it in her ears. The butterflies in her stomach demanded to be felt, growing by the second.

“It may come as a surprise to you, but I know my way around a 3G song,” Emma’s tone was both haughty and playful, as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“I love 3G,” Regan breathed, feeling almost lightheaded with the headiness of this. “How did you know that?”

Emma’s eyebrows knitted together, incredulously. “Regan, you sing all of the time around here. It’s not difficult to pick up on your favorite artists.”

Emma was hardly done speaking when Regan found herself pushing forward, drawn in as if magnetized.

She used the hold she still had on Emma’s hand to balance herself, squeezing it as she brushed her lips against Emma’s.

Regan had never kissed another woman, before. It hadn’t ever been something she’d really thought much about. But, god, maybe she should have.

She sighed against Emma’s lips; they were so unbelievably soft. So full. So plush against Regan’s own, and she gently slid her mouth against Emma’s, letting herself really revel in that feeling.

Her own slight movements made heat spark through her body. A heat that cranked up when she felt Emma move her lips against hers, opening on a sharp, gasping inhale.

Oh, yes. She absolutely should have been doing this before now, Regan dimly registered, rocking forward more firmly, wanting – needing – to get closer. To be able to feel Emma’s body – this body that had taken hold in Regan’s mind as the root of so many fantasies, lately – against her own in any way.

She felt Emma’s hand land on her shoulder as she pressed her lips to Emma’s again, deliberately slotting Emma’s bottom lip between her own.

She’d had so many thoughts about this mouth in the last few weeks. So, so many. Every time Emma laughed or pursed her lips or bit down in thought, Regan wondered.

And now, right in this moment, she knew. Now, she knew, and she would never un-know this sensation. She knew that in her very bones.

Emma breathed a shaky exhale against her lips, the firm hand she had on Regan’s shoulder flexing. Taking a fistful of Regan’s shirt, the grip pulling Regan inches closer.

Inches that Regan was happy to give. She’d be happy to give up all of the space; in fact, she’d be ecstatic to crawl right there into Emma’s lap. To press herself into Emma, to immerse herself in her.

Before she could do it, though, the hand Emma had on her shoulder stopped pulling her in.

Rather, it pushed her back.

Regan moved with the motion, her lips breaking away from Emma’s. As soon as the contact was broken, she could hear the disappointed whimper that escaped the back of her throat.

For just a second, she stayed in that in-between space, keeping her eyes closed as her lips tingled and her blood thrummed through her veins. She’d kissed Emma. She’d kissed Emma, and she’d really, really liked it.

A pleasant warmth followed quickly on the heels of that heated desire, her lips curling into a small smile with it.

“What was that?” Emma breathed. The hand she had still clutching Regan’s shirt tightened even more against Regan’s shoulder.

Finally, she opened her eyes to look at Emma. Who was staring at her with wide-eyed surprise, her lips pink and moist and – wow. Yes, Regan had become aware of her attraction to Emma, but when her mouth looked like that, all plump and freshly kissed by her, she felt herself throb.

“It was a kiss,” she whispered back, heart still pounding in her chest.

“I know it was a kiss,” Emma hissed, shaking her head vehemently. “But – but why?”

Regan could say that she didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but it would be a lie.

She did it because this attraction she felt for Emma refused to let up intensity; if anything, Regan felt like the hold it had on her only got stronger every day.

She did it because Emma was attracted to her, too.

She did it because it felt good being Emma’s girlfriend. Even if it wasn’t totally real, it felt good.

She did it because she’d wanted to share herself with Emma, and Emma had wanted to listen.

She did it because Emma would sing 3G with her to make her feel better after a hard day.

And, mostly, she did it because she wanted to. She really wanted to.

She still wanted to. Right now, all over again. In fact, as she traced her tongue over her own bottom lip and tasted the remnants of Emma’s chapstick, she wanted to do it again very, very badly.

Slowly, she slid her gaze back up Emma’s face to meet her eyes, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. “Um… so here’s the thing–”

Abruptly, Emma released the grip she had on Regan’s shirt, as if only realizing in that moment that she’d been holding onto her. She quickly pushed herself up from the couch, her movements awkward and stilted, as if she couldn’t quite catch her bearings.

“Actually, I don’t want to know,” she quickly said, holding up her hand. A hand that was shaking, Regan noticed.

“I don’t want to know anything. I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want to talk about it. This never happened.”

Emma brought both of her hands up and scrubbed them over her face, looking dazed. Well, more aptly, looking like she wished she could wipe that dazed feeling away.

“Emma–” she tried to start again, moving to stand up, herself.

She was stopped, as Emma reached out and lightly pushed her back down. “No. You – you stay. Right there.”

Regan slowly settled back onto the couch, tilting her head up at Emma, amusement mixing with confusion. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Until I leave,” Emma countered, firmly. “I’m leaving.”

Deflating – it was jarring, this intense come-down after such a ground-shaking kiss – Regan dropped both of her hands listlessly to the couch cushions next to her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going… to see my gram. That’s where I’m going. And when I come home – things are going to be normal,” Emma insisted, slowly backing away from Regan. As if she was worried that Regan was going to pounce on her or something.

In fairness, Regan could admit that she’d felt very close to pouncing on Emma only minutes ago.

“Emma–” She tried again, feeling the desperate need to at least try to explain herself.

She had no idea what possible explanation she could offer that would make Emma feel better, she realized. Which kind of made having a conversation moot.

“Normal,” Emma repeated, darkly, before she turned on her heel and hurriedly walked away. Walked out of the living room, down the hall, pausing for only a few seconds – presumably grabbing her keys and wallet from the entryway table, and a pair of sandals from the shoe rack – before the front door quickly opened and closed.

Regan fell back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Idiot,” she whispered derisively at herself. “What is wrong with you?”

She’d finally – finally – found this footing with Emma. And then in a moment of action-first thoughts-later, she’d ruined it. Typical Regan.

God, she really hoped she hadn’t ruined everything, hoped all of this progress they’d made as friends and roommates wasn’t completely flushed down the drain over one simple kiss.

One simple kiss…

She reached her hand up, lightly brushing her fingertips over her lips. One simple kiss that had totally rocked her world. One simple kiss that left Regan aching for more.

Wait a second.

Regan sat up quickly, her thoughts racing to play that one simple kiss over in her mind, an instant replay.

One simple kiss… that Emma had returned.

Emma had kissed her back.

And, just like that, she felt far more hopeful.

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