Chapter 5
Gail
T he incessant pounding at my door splits through the remnants of sleep like a sledgehammer. My eyes snap open, and for a moment, I can’t place where I am—then it all rushes back. Cupid’s Court. The men. The ecstasy. The rushed departure, and now I’m home, in the safety of my bedroom.
“God,” I murmur to the empty room, the words swallowed by the silence. My fingertips graze over my body, tracing the phantom paths of the guys’ caresses, and a sigh spills from my lips. I don’t know who those men were, and part of me revels in the mystery—it’s a secret thrill that belongs only to me. But another part... another part is desperate for a repetition of last night’s symphony of senses.
“Open up, Gail! You better not be dead in there!” Luce’s voice, laced with that familiar mix of concern and exasperation, finally propels me out of bed. I shuffle to the door, trying not to wince with each step. But damn, I’m sore—deliciously so.
Still wrapped in the cocoon of my duvet, and yank it open, and my bestie barges past me, a harbinger of caffeine and sugary carbs. She plonks down a tray laden with coffee and breakfast muffins on the living room table, her energy levels a stark contrast to my languid state.
“Did I wake you?” she asks, sitting down on the couch.
I follow her, plopping down on the other end of the couch, stretching and yawning. “What time is it?” When she tells me it’s early afternoon, I sit straighter. “I don’t even know what time it was when I got home. But I feel like I’ve only slept for a few hours.”
The sympathetic look she gives me only lasts for a few seconds. “Spill the tea,” she demands, handing me a cup of coffee. “I want every dirty detail.”
I cradle the warm paper mug between my hands, the steam curling into the air. With each sip, the fog in my brain begins to lift, and the memories from last night sharpen into focus. “It was… good.”
She cackles. “Good? Abigail Rosie Wilson! You’re glowing like only someone who’s been thoroughly fucked.”
“Luce, it was… every time is indescribable.” I let the words tumble out, the longing threading through my voice as I recount every touch and whisper, the raw passion that still thrums through my veins.
The memory of it all still pulses through my veins, igniting a deep ache within me that I can’t shake off. It was like a symphony of sensations, each one more intense than the last, leaving me feeling completely consumed by raw passion. And now, in the light of a new day, the soreness makes me smile.
“They were amazing,” I hum. “It was so much more than I hoped for. But they were like…” Trailing off, I point at my messy hair. “One of them was very dark and intense, the other more light and… playful.”
Luce cackles. “So did they give you epic orgasms all night?”
At her question, my core clenches and the skin that was kissed by the… I don’t actually know what tools were used to cause pain, but regardless, my flesh throbs. “In one night I had more orgasms than I’ve had my entire life combined.”
“Your entire life?” she asks, her lips parting comically.
I roll my eyes. “Well, you know… not counting the ones I’ve given myself.”
“Girl, you’re screwed. Literally and figuratively,” Luce teases, savoring a muffin. “You’ll never settle for one guy again—not after having two at once.”
“Stop,” I groan, though I can’t suppress a smile. “It’s not even about the number. It’s how they made me feel.”
“Like the queen you are,” she quips, her laughter dancing around the living room. “You should give those guys a medal.”
“Or an encore,” I murmur, half-joking, half-serious.
Reaching for a muffin, I wordlessly eat it, once again allowing my brain to take me back to last night and this morning. I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t realize Lucia’s talking until she leans forward, snapping her fingers in my face.
“Earth to Gail,” she laughs. “You need to shower and get dressed. We’re going on an adventure.”
“Adventure?” I echo, grumbling when she gets up and pulls me with her.
Luce follows me into my bedroom, and while I shower, she perches on the toilet, giving me weak hints about what we’re doing. As soon as I’m done, she hands me a towel and wordlessly disappears into my bedroom.
“What are you—” The words die off when she throws some clothes at me.
“Wear this. Trust me.”
Eyeing the pants and black button-up shirt, I huff in annoyance. “Trust you? Why the hell do I need to look formal?” Despite my griping, I still put the clothes on.
Trust has nothing to do with my reluctance. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with Luce, I just kind of wanted to veg all day and reminisce about last night. One of the best things about being unemployed is that I rarely have anywhere to be at a specific time. Which is something I’ve come to love.
“Come on,” Luce barks, swatting my ass. “We have places to be, Gail.”
Gail… it feels so weird to hear her call me that after a night of being called Abby. Gail’s what I normally go by, so I don’t know why I said Abby last night. It just felt right in the moment, like by changing my name, I was shedding a layer of responsibility. Like I was becoming someone new, someone carefree.
Now, in the harsh light of a new day, I’m very much Gail. For a moment, I consider hiding my extreme hair under a beanie, but then I square my shoulders. No, I won’t hide when I’m with Luce. After brushing my hair into submission and braiding it, I go to brush my teeth and make sure I look at least somewhat presentable.
Luce waits by the front door, and she eagerly opens it, rushing me as we walk down the stairs. “Is it weird not living here anymore?” I ask, mostly to say something.
She doesn’t answer straight away, waiting until we’re almost outside. “A little,” she says, linking her arm with mine. “Mostly when I have to knock.”
I grin and get into her car, still the old beat up vehicle she’s so proud of.
The drive to the outskirts of Minneapolis is silent except for the hum of the road beneath us. When we pull up to a sprawling house, its presence stately and grand, I’m stunned.
“Luce, what is this?”
“Welcome to the future Casa de Sawyer and Luce!” Her pride is palpable as she eagerly unlocks the front door.
Inside, we are greeted by an open-concept living area, filled with natural light and adorned with sleek modern furniture. She leads us through each room, her hands gesturing animatedly as she explains her design ideas, pointing to print out mood boards that line the walls, showcasing her vision for this future home. With every step, it becomes clear that this is not just a house, but a carefully curated space brimming with possibility and love.
“Wait, how did you close on a house this fast?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Christmas magic,” Lucia winks. “My cousin owned it. Said he’d leave me alone if Sy and I took the house off his hands. Best present ever.”
“Wow, that’s...” Words fail me as I take in the enormity of their plans—the dreams taking shape within these walls.
“Come on,” Lucia says, hooking her arm through mine. “There’s more to see.”
Reaching the spacious and sleek kitchen, Luce pulls sandwiches from the fridge and quickly brews some coffee, making it clear she came here before picking me up.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee blends with the promise of new beginnings as we sit across from each other at the rustic kitchen table. The house is quiet except for the occasional creak of settling wood, a symphony to the dreams being spun in this very room.
“Okay, so hear me out,” Luce starts, her eyes sparkling with the kind of fervor that’s contagious. “As you already know, I’m launching my own gig, social media courses with personalized coaching sessions.”
“Yeah,” I say, already knowing this. “When are you starting?”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Well, that all depends on one thing.”
“What?” I ask curiously.
“You,” she laughs. “I want you in on this.”
I almost choke on the bite of the sandwich I’d just taken, crumbs scattering across the tabletop. “Luce, I can barely navigate my own Facebook page. You’re asking the wrong gal.”
She waves me off, her grin unwavering. “I’ve got the tech savvy covered. But you? You’re a natural-born educator. You connect with people, make them feel seen. I’ve seen you with the kids and their parents. You make every question seem important. That’s what we need.”
“Luce,” I whine, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I taught arts and crafts, not hashtags.” Despite my protest, there’s a flutter in my chest—the thrill of a challenge.
“Arts and craft, hashtags, it’s all creative, Gail. And who better to weave a narrative than you?” She leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, we’re going to rock this industry.”
The idea takes root, stubborn and persistent. My name alongside hers—Gail and Luce, partners. Not just in mischief, but in enterprise, too. “What would we even call this venture?”
“Something fresh... current...” Lucia muses, tapping a finger against her lips. “How about ‘EduSync’? A nod to your teaching roots and the influence of social media.”
The name ‘EduSync’ reverberates in my mind, its syllables rolling off my tongue like a promise of something new and exciting. A tingle runs down my spine as I contemplate taking the leap into the unknown. The idea of embarking on this journey scares me, yet the thought of what could be waiting for me on the other side fills me with exhilaration.
Maybe it’s because of last night, but right now I’m ready for more adventures. Embracing my inner Abby, I declare, “Count me in.” Determined to embrace this new beginning wholeheartedly.
“Yes!” Lucia jumps up and fist pumps the air. “Knew I could count on you,” she sing-songs as she sits back down again. Her smile could outshine the afternoon sun.
Hours pass as we pour over plans, our heads bent close together as we scribble notes on a shared notepad. The list grows—logo designs, marketing strategies, course outlines—all of it daunting, but less so with Luce by my side. Our laughter bubbles up, filling the house with life.
“Ready for one last surprise?” Lucia asks, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Is it chocolate?” I half-joke, riding the high of our brainstorming session.
“Better,” she promises, standing up and gesturing for me to follow.
We approach the last unexplored door in the house, its wood grain a mystery waiting to be unveiled. Luce turns the knob, pushing it open to reveal an office space bathed in soft light. There’s a desk, bookshelves lined with empty spaces awaiting knowledge, and in the center—a chair that looks like a throne of ambition.
But it’s the wall that captures my attention—my name etched on a plaque in sleek, bold letters beside Lucia’s. “Luce, this is...”
“Yours,” she finishes for me. “Or ours, really. Welcome to EduSync headquarters.”
My throat tightens, warmth spreading through my chest. She never doubted—not for a second—that I’d say yes. It’s more than a room; it’s faith made tangible, trust given form. She believed in me before I could muster the courage to believe in myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper, both overwhelmed and grounded by the weight of her conviction.
“Nothing to thank me for. We’re in this together now. Let’s kick some digital ass, partner.”
“Partner,” I repeat, the word a badge I’m ready to wear with pride. This is where we build our future—one click, one post, one course at a time. Together.
“We should go celebrate,” Luce grins. “Or are you too… spent after last night?” She wiggles her eyebrows and does a full-body shimmy like I didn’t know what she’s hinting at.
I take a moment to consider her words. “Will it just be us?” I ask, nervously biting down on my lip.
“Yes,” she shrugs. “Why?”
I point at my hair. “I’m not sure if I can share this with anyone just yet.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “What do you mean? You showed it off at O’Jackie’s right after having it done.”
Sighing, I try to explain how I feel like two people, and that I need time to… I don’t know, make them fit, somehow. “It just feels private. Does that make sense?”
Luce grabs her phone, no doubt to shoot a text off to her husband. “I get it,” she says softly. “You know, when my cousin came into my life and held me to the deal I’d made for my freedom, I felt like I had to make two versions of myself become one. Take all the time you need.”
My throat feels thick as I swallow, feeling a bit fucking silly for making such a big deal of nothing. Unlike Luce’s situation, mine isn’t life threatening or even high-stake. But being the amazingly brilliant friend, and now business partner, that she is, she doesn’t give me a hard time.
“Right, Sy’s spending the evening with Soren and Mickey. Something about… actually, it doesn’t matter. But yeah, they’re indisposed.”
Disappointment and relief war inside me, both fighting to be the dominant feeling. I’m glad it’s just going to be us, really, I am. But I’m also slightly… no. I’m not ready for anything else, so this is for the best. At least that’s what I tell myself as I try very hard not to think about what it would be like to spend the night with both Mickey and Soren.