Lesbian Boss (Sapphic Sweethearts #5)

Epilogue

Noelle

“ I don’t want things to end,” I say, staring at Judy.

“Well, they’re ending.” She shrugs like I mean nothing, like two years together meant nothing.

“I just don’t understand.” I fumble over the words. I’m a professor. A doctor. I’m better than this. I have multiple degrees in words, in literary studies, so why can’t I figure out the words I need right now?

“What’s the understand?” Judy asks. She puts her hands on her hips. Her red nails dig into her hips, and she glares at me.

How many times has she slid those fingernails across my skin?

How many times have the two of us been totally entranced with each other?

And now it’s over.

There will be no more moments.

“I think there’s a lot to understand,” I say, “and I’m willing to. If you’ll just let me, Judy, then maybe we can sort all of this out.”

“I don’t want to sort it out,” she says. “I want to break up. I’m done.”

“Is it about the job?” I say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I won’t move, that I won’t take the position, but I need it. I’ve been fighting for a position teaching in my genre, and this is my big chance. I’ll get to teach speculative fiction, British lit, and even a video game literature class.

I can’t turn this down.

“Yes, Noelle, it’s about the job.” Judy sighs. She rakes a hand through her short blonde hair. “But it’s about more than the job.”

She’s talking.

Good.

I don’t say anything.

I fear that if I interrupt her, she’s going to stop, and I don’t want that. I need to know what I’ve done wrong, and I need to know why I feel like I’m being put in this position of weakness.

Judy and I are supposed to be forever.

That’s what we promised each other.

We said we would love each other forever. Hell, we keep talking about getting engaged. Last week, we went and looked at rings.

So what changed?

“Look, you think about yourself,” Judy says. “A lot.”

I bite my tongue.

Everyone thinks about themselves. That’s normal. In fact, it comes with the territory of being human, doesn’t it?

“And when you think about yourself, you probably view yourself as being normal about it, Noelle, but you aren’t.”

Again, I bite my tongue.

I want to point out that she’s just as selfish as me, that she spends more time in her lab than she does on our relationship, but again, I don’t.

I’m mature like that.

“Every night, I come home, and I try to connect with you. I can’t. All you want to talk about is what new book has come out, or what your students are doing, or what their projects are. You spend all of this time completely focused on you and what’s happening in your world that you forget to look up and see what’s passing you by,” she says.

Judy stares.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I’m listening to you.”

“That’s a fucking first.”

And that’s it.

I snap.

“Judy, are you serious right now?”

“Here we go,” she says. She smiles. “Good. I wondered when you were going to let the bitch out. What do you have to say, Noelle? That I’m right about everything? That you’re a selfish brat who always has to get her way? What? Tell me, please.”

“You’re wrong.” I’m sure about this. “You’re wrong. I’m not selfish, and I don’t always have to be right.”

It’s Judy’s turn to stare. I realize that there’s no saving this. There will be no apology, no coming back from this relationship. If she wants to connect with me later, we might be able to have an awkward coffee date, but our connection as we know it has been severed.

Right now, my big decision is whether I want to be right, or whether I want to let her walk.

Fuck it.

I want to be right.

“In fact, I asked you before I even applied for the role if you were okay with moving. You assured me that you were. It’s only now, a week before I’m supposed to go, and a week before our lease ends, and three days before the movers arrive, that you don’t want to be with me anymore. What the fuck, Judy? You couldn’t have told me this before?”

Yeah, I’m going over the deep end, but I can’t stop myself.

“This is it,” she says. “This is who I knew you were. A brat.”

“I’m not a brat,” I say. “I am, however, a professional, and I expect to be treated with respect. You and I were supposed to be forever,” I say, reminding her. “We looked at rings last week, Judy. Were you already having doubts?”

I let the words hang in the air because I really do want to know this part.

Has she always felt uncomfortable with me?

Has she always thought that there was something wrong with us?

Has been thinking about leaving for a while?

And what am I supposed to do with that information?

“I’ve been having doubts for a long time,” she says.

“You could have talked to me.”

“When? You’re never here.”

“Neither are you,” I say.

She comes closer, and she places her red fingernails on my arms. Judy stares up at me. “How can two people who are never around each other build a relationship, Noelle? How can we build a future? I’m sorry, baby. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

She turns, and she leaves the apartment, and she closes the door.

And I stare at the door, and I wonder where it all went wrong, and I wonder if I’m going to be okay, and I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to do next.

I stumble over to the kitchen, and I pour myself a glass of wine.

I drink it.

Then another.

And another.

Soon the bottle is gone, and I sit on the couch.

I stare at the door a little bit more, and then the phone rings. This is strange because typically, my phone is on “silent.” I can’t remember the last time I had the ringer on. I remember suddenly that it’s on because Jessica was going to call me tonight to confirm the details of my move. I’m staying with her when I first arrive.

We were both supposed to stay with her.

“Hey,” I say, answering the call. “What’s going on?” I try to sound normal. I try to sound like I haven’t been crying.

“What time are you getting in?” Jessica asks. “And do you want to go to dinner when you get in?”

“That’s in a week,” I say. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Oh, I know, but I was thinking of getting us reservations. There’s this really cute Italian place close to where we live. We were thinking we’d take you.”

“I’d love that,” I say honestly. “Why don’t I plan to get there before dinnertime?”

“You dinnertime or me dinnertime?”

“What?”

“You eat dinner at like, 4:30. I eat dinner at a normal time.”

“Midnight?”

“More like 9:30,” Jessica says.

“Yeah, I’m not eating dinner that late. I’ll be in bed. Plus, I’ll have classes to prepare for. Some of those are early in the morning.”

“Having early classes is stupid,” Jessica says.

“Stupid?” My CEO sister never uses words like stupid. Maybe she’s the one who’s been drinking.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. I’m trying to lighten up,” she says by way of explanation.

“Well, good for you, I guess.”

“What about Judy?”

“Judy?”

“Does she like Italian food?”

“Um, yes.”

“Perfect. I’ll make a reservation for four.”

“Oh,” I say.

“What?”

“Um, make it a reservation for three.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I close my eyes. I don’t really want to share this information. I don’t really want her to know anything about me. Not when it comes to this. Not where I’m vulnerable.

Only, she’s going to find out sooner or later, so I might as well tell my younger sister the truth.

“Judy and I broke up.”

“When?”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe an hour ago.”

“You broke up an hour ago and you didn’t call me?”

“I needed time.”

“You’ve got it,” she says. “You want me to fly out there tonight?”

“No. I’ll just drive out Saturday,” I say. “It’ll be okay.”

“You deserve better,” Jessica offers. “I have single friends. We’ll find you someone new.”

“I’m okay,” I say, but I’m not.

We chat for another minute, I end the call, and then I sit back down on the couch.

I don’t want any of this.

And then the phone rings again.

This time, when I look at the number, I just stare at the phone.

There’s no way this is real life.

The story continues in Lesbian Professor.