CHAPTER ELEVEN
A melia pulled into the driveway of my house. It was mid-afternoon. The Alabama heat was taking my greenery prisoner, and the AC in the hire vehicle barely worked, so the discolouration of my T-shirt was far from a fashion statement. Brittany may have styled it out as a tie-dye creation, but I didn’t have that kind of fashion presence.
Jack, my neighbour, raised his hand to greet me from behind his freshly painted fence, another chore his wife no doubt bestowed upon him. His unruly mullet was covered by a paint-splattered baseball cap, and his T-shirt tan lines were visible on his bare torso. He watched our car crawl to a stop, keen to witness the driver. Magnolia Springs was a small town; for most people “spilling the tea” brought a sense of excitement to a mundane day. The police department was the worse for it. My trip with Amelia would be a hot topic at the station on my return.
The hum of the engine was a soothing backdrop, but Amelia made no attempt to silence it. After our second night together, I half expected the same conclusion. We were navigating uncharted waters, but this time there was no elephant in the room, and there was no avoidance of the delicate thread hanging between us .
That morning Amelia kissed me on the cheek, she held my hand whilst we drove, and in the quiet moments between songs on the radio, we both found the courage to be open and vulnerable.
The road trip almost felt like a metaphor for our relationship. We started the journey, encountered a few twists and turns, some highs and lows, but ultimately, we arrived at the end destination with respect for each other.
As much as I appreciated the less awkward morning after, it left me with even more questions. What exactly did it mean for us? We could no longer be categorised as a one-night stand. I wasn’t sure a two-night stand was even a thing. In the lesbian world of romance two nights signified an unspoken exclusivity that only people within the community seemed to understand.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked.
Amelia hesitated for a moment, eyes fixed on the steering wheel.
“I... I don’t know,” she replied. “Is that a good idea?”
“You can come in and let me cook you something nice for dinner, or you can go back to Cindy’s B that was always calm and more of a quiet assurance, but it spoke volumes. It wasn’t even the waves of her hair that fell so loosely around her face.
It was—that smile.
Amelia looked at me with an infectious grin. It was genuine, it was radiant, and it seemed to ooze from within. Her smile alone made me feel at ease .
It was—those eyes.
There was a softness in her gaze that I didn’t find in anyone else, a warmth that invited me in, and it made me wonder if that was a gaze reserved only for me.
It was—her conversation.
She listened intently. Her responses were always thoughtful and measured. There was an authenticity in the way she partook in conversation, like the person she was speaking to was the only person in the room that mattered.
It was—everything.
I watched her watch me. My mind tried to conjure up a sentence that wouldn’t make me sound foolish, but when I looked at her, words failed me. Words never failed me. Even in the darkest most difficult situations in my career, words didn’t fail me. But Amelia Baker moved through life with such natural poise and charisma that I didn’t fully understand the impact until now.
She pulled the knitted throw from the back of the sofa and gently draped it across our curled legs. We faced each other, one small sip of wine at a time. We engaged in conversation about the town and all the wonderful things it had to offer. I hoped she could experience all of them. She reached out and ran her fingers down the length of my outstretched arm, a simple gesture that indicated she wanted a level of intimacy between us. I wanted that too.
I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. “I like this,” I confessed.
“I like this too,” she said, her cheeks blushing slightly.
“I’d really like to kiss you now,” I whispered. As the words escaped my lips my body was already two steps ahead. I leant forward, searching Amelia’s eyes for a sign of acceptance .
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “What are you waiting for?”
And with that, I closed the distance.