Chapter 8 #2
“So how long have you been doing that?” Gwen asked.
“About eight years,” Lillian replied. “It’s not glamorous, but I like knowing I’m actually helping protect something that can’t speak for itself—”
“Sorry, what was that?”
Maggie’s voice cut in, smooth but edged, and suddenly she was there, sliding onto the low couch across from them. Her knees brushed Gwen’s before she leaned toward Lillian. “I couldn’t hear over the music.”
Lillian turned to her with an easy smile. “I was saying I work with desert tortoises — mostly relocation during pipeline projects.”
“That’s… very specific,” Maggie said, eyes glinting. “And noble.”
Gwen tipped her glass to her mouth, hiding the curve of her smile behind it. She didn’t dare let it show — how much she recognized that look in Maggie’s eyes, how much she secretly liked being the reason for it.
Lillian launched into a story about tagging juveniles in the Mojave, and Maggie stayed perched forward, nodding politely but keeping one hand resting on Gwen’s knee.
Gwen left it there.
And she kept her smile to herself.
The bass of the song faded out, replaced by the glittery synth hook of a song Gwen hadn’t heard since college. “Oops!… I Did It Again” poured through the speakers, and the mood in the room shifted instantly.
“Oh my god,” Danica gasped, already shoving her drink into Pete’s hand. “We have to dance.”
“This isn’t really a dancing place,” Izzy called out, looking around.
“Everywhere’s a dancing place if you just start dancing.” Kiera was laughing, grabbing Danica’s wrist and dragging her toward the open space between two sets of couches.
Pete, grinning like she’d been waiting for this exact moment, turned to Lillian. “You’re coming too.”
Lillian laughed, a little reluctant, but let herself be hauled away.
That left Maggie and Gwen on the couch, the music pulsing around them.
Maggie’s gaze caught hers, a wordless invitation in it. Gwen gave a small wave toward the impromptu dance floor and gestured with her nearly empty glass. “You go. I’m getting a refill.”
Maggie’s mouth tilted like she might argue, but she just nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
As Gwen started to rise, Izzy dropped into the seat beside her, cheeks flushed from the music and the champagne, a faint shimmer of champagne on her smile.
“Hey,” Izzy said, glancing at her phone. “So… Kiera’s mom just texted to ask if we’ve set a date yet. What is with moms and wedding planning? They all lose their minds.”
Gwen laughed, easing back into her chair. “Already? You’ve been engaged, what, three months?”
“Two and a half,” Izzy corrected, mock-serious. “Apparently that’s long enough for everyone over fifty to start panicking about venue availability.”
“Ah, yes,” Gwen said dryly. “The sacred wedding timeline.”
Izzy grinned. “Exactly. Like if we don’t lock down a caterer tomorrow, our love will just… expire.”
They both laughed, the music thumping softly in the background.
“So,” Gwen said after a moment, “do you have plans? Or are you two just enjoying being engaged?”
Izzy tilted her head, her smile softening. “I mean, when I’m not freaking out about Kiera waking up one day and realizing she was wrong when she said yes? Mostly that second one. I think we’re just… basking. You know? Getting used to saying fiancée without sounding like we’re quoting someone else.”
“That’s a good stage,” Gwen said. “You only get it once.”
Her fingers curled around her glass, and before she could stop herself, she was back in that moment years ago — on a weekend getaway in Texas Hill Country.
They’d been sitting on a weathered porch swing at a B&B, cicadas buzzing in the twilight, the air thick with the scent of wildflowers and mesquite.
Maggie had her bare feet tucked under her, glass of wine in hand, cheeks flushed from a day spent swimming in the river.
Gwen had pulled out a small leather ring box, her hands trembling just enough to make Maggie’s eyes go wide.
She’d asked her then and there, no big crowd, just the two of them and a sky turning gold.
Maggie’s yes had been quiet but certain, and she’d leaned in with a smile that felt like the start of forever.
It had been simple. Perfect.
“You okay?” Izzy asked, tilting her head.
Gwen shook herself back to the present, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just remembering what that feels like.”
Izzy studied her for a second longer than was polite, then softened it with a sip of her drink. “And what about you two?” she asked, casual in the way people are when they’re absolutely not being casual.
Gwen tried to keep her face neutral. “Us?”
“Yeah, you and Maggie.” Izzy’s shrug was practiced nonchalance. “Everything good? I know when we were all there after Maggie’s mom died, things felt a little tense.”
For a beat, Gwen could only smooth her thumb along the rim of her glass, like there might be an answer hiding there.
Their group of friends had attracted more dancers to their crowd.
Maggie was dancing, hair sticking to her temples, scream-singing the lyrics to a song — badly, too, like she’d forgotten every beat of rhythm she’d ever had.
She’d thrown an arm around Danica, belting out the chorus, eyes shut and grin wide.
Something in Gwen’s chest pulled tight. Nostalgia? Ache? Both.
“Of course,” she said finally, her tone steady but not quite convincing even to herself. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Izzy didn’t push, but Gwen caught the faint tilt of her brows, the way her gaze flicked between Gwen and the mess of Maggie on the dance floor. Izzy leaned back in her chair, letting the music swallow the moment. “Well,” she said, a hint of wry amusement threading her voice. “I’m glad.”
Gwen’s throat worked. She looked back to Maggie — her wife, still, technically. The sight was magnetic.
And the worst part? It always had been.