Chapter Thirteen #2
“Then let’s go, princess.” Edie grabbed her hand, and Cosima reminded her lungs to breathe. The nickname had officially gone from annoying to goose bump–inducing.
Though, had it ever been entirely annoying?
They went. An old-fashioned cab returned them to the station in Ruskington, and from there the journey went by in a rush of Edie talking, gesturing, and asking questions as she handed Cosima snacks.
Changing trains at Sleaford, they had prawn crisps for Cosima and ready salted crisps for Edie.
When they changed again in Peterborough, Edie found a vending machine and secured them boiling-hot paper cups of weak tea.
At a newsstand at King’s Cross, there were vegan Cadbury bars, and Edie gazed up at the vaulted, latticed ceiling of the famous depot.
Cosima waited while Edie traded a handful of hoarded pound coins for a magnet in the shape of a red double-decker tourist bus to give her mother, as well as a copy of the London A to Z with maps she wanted to “practice reading” for another visit to London someday.
It was difficult for Cosima not to think next time, next time, as they rushed through all of these ordinary travelers’ milestones.
Next time she and Edie were in London, they’d take one of the red double-decker tourist buses.
Next time, they’d stay in a boutique hotel in Grosvenor Square that Edie would love.
She firmed her jaw against never again.
They had walked forever, winding around people, queues, strollers, shop stands, and signs, finally arriving at the Eurostar ticket office at St. Pancras International, when they ran into their first problem.
“We have a rule,” Edie insisted. “And I would never pay for a first-class ticket. There’s a dining car. We don’t need to have dinner delivered to our seats like we’re the Princess of Wales.”
Cosima pulled Edie by the elbow to the back of the ticketing queue, again, so they could continue their argument.
“We haven’t stopped all day. We’re exhausted.
Premier tickets will give us more space to stretch out and more comfortable seats.
We could sleep. We’re going to need it. As it is, I think we’ll have to spend the night in Paris. ”
Edie looked at the ceiling of the station in frustration. “It won’t be so late that we have to stay in Paris. There’s a hostel in Rouen.”
“I will not stay in a hostel.”
“That’s a shame, princess, because I’ve already made a reservation.”
“A reservation for the hostel that only has six bedrooms, and padlocks for the lockers are extra.” Cosima tried to block out the overwhelming noise of the station, the smell of ozone and urine and frying food.
Her silk blouse, which she would never have traveled in given the option, felt damp under her arms and at the small of her back. “I cannot do that.”
“You can’t exist under the roof of a hostel?” Edie somehow looked entirely fresh, her navy and red mice shirt impossibly adorable, her tight jeans unmarred, her hair still shiny and long and so attention-getting that Cosima had begun glaring at people who gave her appreciative double takes.
“I cannot. I will absolutely dissolve into the ether. And, what’s more, we agreed that we would travel equitably, not that we would travel like nineteen-year-old boys who hook water bottles onto their backpacks.”
They both glanced over at one such boy standing in the queue beside theirs, who chose that moment to graphically adjust his crotch.
Edie wrinkled her nose. “I will agree to Standard Premier, which has bigger seats and dinner. I think we can both continue to draw breath without access to champagne and a chef-designed meal.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’d like to assess how we’re feeling once we arrive in Paris before we stay the night.”
“Only if you cancel the hostel in Rouen.”
“I made the reservation on your phone, so you can do it yourself.”
Their argument ended in sync with their arrival at the head of the queue, and then, following a long series of walking, passing through gates, waiting, scanning various codes, and dodging people, they were finally collapsed side by side in their leather seats, where Cosima planned to sleep for a thousand years.
“Traveling light does have advantages,” Edie said. “Although there are the extra questions from scary border officials about why you don’t have luggage, accompanied by a bomb dog’s nose in your butt.”
“Unpleasant,” Cosima said, closing her eyes. “I was afraid when you got goosed that you would confess we’re going to France to find a treasure.”
“Of course not. We don’t need henchmen following us through Europe, ready to tie us up and steal our spoils. Although I’m not sure what kind of spoils I should be anticipating. How much do gold bars weigh?”
Cosima listened to Edie talk with her eyes closed while the train moved out of the station. She fell asleep in the dark cabin as the car settled into its smooth hum, racing overland on its way to the channel.
She couldn’t tell what made her wake up—if it was a door opening or the sound of clinking glasses—but she knew she didn’t want to.
After hours of travel grime and sore legs and threatening headaches, she was surrounded by a soft smell that reminded her of the lemon zest she’d piled onto the saucer.
Every muscle in her body had gone lax, her limbs tucked into or surrounded by eye-rollingly beautiful softness.
The tension in her eyes and neck had been chased away by the delicious half dreams of her nap.
“Cosima.”
She burrowed herself deeper into the lovely, soft nap place.
“Princess.” Edie’s voice was close, but maybe she was dreaming that.
If she was dreaming about Edie, she wondered if she could initiate a meditation that would allow her to really dream about Edie.
To hold her the way she wanted to and practice kissing Dream Edie until it got as good as she hoped it could be.
“The drinks service is coming through. It’s possible you might want to, um. Find your way to your seat.”
Edie’s voice vibrated against Cosima’s cheek. It was nice. “Am in my seat.”
“Part of you is in your seat. And part of you is in my seat. On me.”
Cosima opened her eyes. She went to adjust herself and then fully appreciated why Edie had interrupted her nap.
Her leg was wrapped around Edie’s thigh, for starters.
And, as she sheepishly slid her leg away, she discovered her forearm snuggled between Edie’s breasts, her hand along Edie’s jaw, and her other arm—once those two disobedient limbs had been extricated—wrapped around Edie’s shoulders, her fingers cupping the nape of Edie’s neck.
She rubbed her face and felt the impression of the collar of Edie’s shirt pressed into her skin. She had been sleeping on her like a koala in its handler’s arms, possibly with even less shame.
Embarrassing. Yes. Incredibly so. But agony to separate herself.
“You could have shoved me back into my own space,” she finally said. “I am mortified.”
Edie’s smile made a dimple appear beneath her eye, like a shooting star. “There was no moving you. At one point I tried a bit of polite shoehorning, but you growled.”
“Oh, no.”
“Did you know”—Edie raised her eyebrows—“that you talk in your sleep?”
The horror hit Cosima like a splash of cold water. “What?”
“I couldn’t make everything out. I had to stop listening once you were comparing my breath to the sweet perfume of June lilacs.” Edie bit her lip.
“You’re making that up.”
“I am.” Edie had a new cluster of forehead freckles from today’s walks in the sun.
There were six wedge-shaped flashes of gold in her left eye that Cosima hadn’t noticed before.
She studied them, full of slow, sleepy longing.
“No talking. Just a little snoring.” Edie’s voice was low and husky.
“The porter’s holding our dinner. It’s on a tray, like an airplane meal.
I can push the call button, and she’ll bring it. ”
“I’m not hungry.” The Eurostar was a blanket of soft white noise, the lights low.
There was nothing out the windows, only the occasional glimpse of a concrete wall to indicate they were passing beneath the English Channel.
No one had been seated opposite them. They were nowhere, alone and unobserved.
“We’re in international waters,” she said.
Her pulse skyrocketed in response to her own audacity, but Edie only looked confused.
“Yeah?”
More humiliation. Cosima ignored it. She had to, or else live the rest of her days without knowing how Edie’s lips would feel against hers. “I’m suggesting that the laws are different out here. The rules.”
“Do you want to pirate the other passengers? I don’t think that’s a great idea after Pierre le Pooch made such a close inspection of me.”
Cosima wanted to laugh. Here she was, with no hands-on, practical experience of this kind of thing, and Edie couldn’t tell how many rules she was willing to break on this train, in this hour before they’d be on the streets of Paris, where everything would be hemmed in by reality again.
Cosima had tried innuendo and failed miserably.
But then the skin on Edie’s cheeks flooded pink, and the green of her eyes was edged out by her pupils widening. A much more than adequate reward for the risk Cosima had taken.
“Edie.” She hadn’t known her voice could sound this knowing, except that every part of her was so sensitized to the knowledge of this woman, how couldn’t it?
“I’m trying to think of a more terrible idea,” Edie whispered. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do some piracy?”
“Would you?” Cosima made herself keep her eyes on Edie’s, exhilarating herself with the illicit feeling of extended eye contact, which her body knew was a prelude to intimacy, and so initiated luxurious, thudding pressure in her throat, her wrists, the palms of her hands, between her legs.
“Would I what?” Edie sounded thrillingly distracted. Cosima had done that. She’d distracted Edie with her desire.