Chapter 14 Day One/One Day #2
The morning light was less forgiving than candlelight had been, revealing every detail of their bodies without shadow or mystery, but Catherine found she didn’t mind.
Her body was a decade older than Theodora’s, a fact that had once felt like a ledger of small betrayals; yet with the younger woman looking at her like this, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Theodora's gaze traveled across her skin with a hunger that had nothing hurried in it, taking its time as though every year written there was something worth knowing.
Theodora kissed her way down Catherine's body with patience, lingering at her jaw, her throat, the hollow between her breasts. Catherine's breathing grew shallow as Theodora's mouth traveled lower, across her ribs and stomach, to the soft curls at the apex of her thighs.
Then Theodora settled between Catherine's legs with clear intention, her hands pressing Catherine's thighs wider, and Catherine felt herself open completely to the intimacy of being tasted in full daylight.
The first touch of Theodora's tongue made Catherine's hips lift off the mattress. But Theodora's hands pressed them back down with gentle firmness, holding her in place while her mouth licked and kissed and sucked Catherine’s entire center over and over.
Theodora's name fell from her mouth with a desperation that felt almost embarrassing in its intensity. But Catherine surrendered to it; she let Theodora take her apart with patient thoroughness that suggested they had all the time in the world.
Her body responded with building pleasure that felt different from the urgent release of the night before; this was deeper, more overwhelming pleasure that rolled through her in waves rather than crashing all at once.
When she came, it was with Theodora's name broken across her lips and tears leaking from the corners of her eyes from the intensity of being thoroughly, completely cherished.
Theodora pressed a kiss to her stomach before sliding up beside her. She brushed a thumb across Catherine's damp cheek and pulled her close, tucking Catherine's head under her chin.
Catherine's breathing steadied as they lay tangled together, skin cooling in the morning air.
Theodora's leg settled across her hips, her hand finding the small of Catherine's back as though it belonged there.
Catherine stared at the cluster of freckles on Theodora's shoulder, counting them and then counting them again, just to be sure.
The light was soft, and the room was quiet, and she felt, for the first time in years, like she didn't need to be anywhere else.
Like her body was entirely her own, and entirely at rest.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Catherine felt the slow, steady rise and fall of Theodora’s breathing against her and thought how strange it was to feel this safe.
It was Theodora who broke the quiet. She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, and looked down at Catherine with an expression that was trying very hard to be serious.
"I believe I was making you breakfast," she said, brushing damp hair back from Catherine's forehead, "before you distracted me. "
Catherine laughed and rolled over to straddle Theo's hips, fully intending to make a joke about her abysmal kitchen skills, but the room tilted instead, the words slipping away as dizziness washed over her.
“Hey,” Theodora said softly, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her. “You okay?”
Catherine blinked, then waved it off. “Mhm. Just a head rush. Moved too fast.”
Theo studied her for a beat, then leaned in to kiss her, brief and reassuring.
Theodora slipped out from under her and stood, pulling on Catherine's shirt that had been thrown to the floor. She picked up Catherine's robe and held it open for her to put on. "Come on," she said. "Food will help. I'll make you something that's at least edible."
Catherine took Theodora's hand and followed her toward the kitchen, pausing for a moment when the room tilted. She blinked hard, forced a smile, and tightened her grip on Theodora's fingers.
As they padded toward the kitchen, she mentally flipped through the drawer where Theodora had started storing takeout menus. The bagel place on 8th opened at nine. They delivered quickly, and their eggs, unlike Theodora's, were actually edible.
* * *
The afternoon found them in Catherine's music room, sunlight streaming through windows to illuminate the black piano's glossy surface.
Catherine sat on the bench with her usual perfect posture while Theodora perched beside her with considerably less grace, crowding close enough that their thighs pressed together from hip to knee.
"Okay," Catherine said, positioning Theodora's hands over the keys with a gentle adjustment of her wrists. "Canon In D is probably the simplest intermediate piece in existence."
"That's not encouraging." Theodora stared at the keys like they might bite her. "What if I can't manage this?"
“Then I’ll know you’re truly hopeless.” Catherine’s tone was dry but affectionate. “Okay, right hand first—just the top notes. D, A, B, F-sharp. You alternate like this.”
She demonstrated, her fingers flowing across the keys with ease, the notes rising and falling like water.
Theodora watched, chin tucked down, eyes tracking every movement. Then her head tilted.
"Wait a second," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting. "This is that wedding song, isn't it? The one people walk down the aisle to?"
Catherine's fingers stuttered on the keys. Her eyes darted away as warmth crept up her neck.
Fuck. Of all the pieces she could have chosen. It wasn’t even a conscious choice. No, it really wasn’t.
"It's—yes. Pachelbel's Canon. It’s common at weddings."
Theodora's smile widened, teeth showing. "Smooth, Matthews. Real smooth."
Catherine let out a laugh that came out higher than intended, shaking her head. She glanced back at Theodora, something reckless fluttering in her chest. She decided to play her at her own game. "So?"
Theodora's eyebrows pulled together. "So what?"
"Your answer? To my proposal? I thought I was being romantic."
Theodora froze, her face going pale beneath her red cheeks.
Catherine held the moment just long enough before dissolving into laughter, shoulders shaking as she bent over the keys.
Theodora blew out a breath, shoving Catherine's shoulder. "You're the worst person I've ever met."
“You started it,” Catherine said cheerfully. “Now. Try again.”
Theodora “played,” if it could be called that.
Catherine winced, unable to suppress the reaction. "That was...creative."
"I'm doing exactly what you showed me!" Theodora's indignation was undermined by the laughter in her voice.
"You're doing something." Catherine shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against Theodora's. "Here, let me help."
She placed her hands over Theodora's, her palms covering the backs of Theodora's hands, fingers aligning over fingers. The position brought them even closer, Catherine's chest against Theodora's shoulder, their faces inches apart, Catherine's breath warm against Theodora's cheek.
“Now,” Catherine murmured, applying gentle pressure to guide Theodora’s fingers to the correct keys. “D, A, B, F-sharp. Nice and steady—feel the pattern?”
Together, their hands moved across the keys, producing the familiar progression with actual accuracy this time. Catherine controlled the motion entirely, Theodora’s fingers passive beneath hers, but the contact felt intimate in ways that had nothing to do with instruction.
She guided Theodora through the right-hand pattern a few more times, then shifted to the left, repeating in a patient, grounding rhythm beneath the melody.
"This is humiliating," Theodora muttered, but she was smiling. "I can perform emergency thoracotomies, but I can't play a simple song on the piano."
"Different skill sets." Catherine's lips curved against Theodora's neck. "Besides, I doubt I could perform surgery. We all have our limitations."
Catherine released Theodora's hands, letting her attempt the pattern alone.
The result was better, still imperfect, rhythm uncertain, but recognizable as the intended melody.
Theodora's face lit with triumph, and Catherine felt warmth bloom in her chest at the genuine pleasure in Theodora's expression.
"I did it!" Theodora's hands lifted from the keys to gesture enthusiastically. "I actually played something that sounded like music!"
"Barely." But Catherine was smiling, leaning in to rest her cheek on Theodora’s shoulder. "You're still terrible."
"I'm improving rapidly under excellent instruction."
“Flattery will only get you so far.”
Theodora smiled, then tilted her head towards the keys. “Will you play me something? Something that you love?”
Catherine's fingers froze against the ivory. She held perfectly still, as if Theodora had asked something far more intimate than a simple performance. Then she inhaled, raising her head, and faced the keys again.
She began to play Ludovico Einaudi’s Experience. The opening was restrained, almost hesitant, a single thread of melody that gradually built into something fuller, sweeping, and alive.
Theodora listened in silence, watching the shift in Catherine’s expression, the way focus gave way to feeling, the way the music seemed to pull something unguarded from her.
When the final note faded, Catherine stayed there for a moment, her hands still poised above the keys.
“It reminds me of you,” she said quietly.
Theodora blinked. “Me?”
Catherine glanced over. "It starts controlled.
Careful. But underneath it's restless, emotional, breathtaking.
There's a pulse running through the whole thing that refuses to quit, no matter how tired it gets.
" She paused. "It's beautiful because it keeps moving even when it hurts to.
" She looked at Theo. "That's you, Theodora. "