Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy was unsurprised to find when she got back to her hotel that she wasn’t quite as exhausted as she was after they had sex when she was spending the night in Juliet’s bed.
She didn’t feel the same way she felt on her usual nights, alone, either. She was tired, and she had a suspicion she’d be able to sleep well tonight. Better than usual in hotels, anyway.
But her brain had buzzed back to life on her ride to the hotel from Juliet’s. She’d called the car from down the street from Juliet’s house, just to be safe; she thought Juliet would appreciate that.
However, Juliet hadn’t suggested it to her. Normally, she would have. If Juliet was firing on all cylinders, she would be very vigilant about keeping up appearances.
Something had been going on with her tonight, and Darcy still wanted to know what it was. She had the feeling it was behind not only her atypical responses during sex, but also behind her migraine.
And it bothered her. It all bothered her, a lot.
She wasn’t asking Juliet what was wrong because she was being nosy; she’d been asking because she – well, because she cared. That wasn’t some cardinal sin, was it?
It couldn’t be, because Juliet cared about her, too.
Not that she’d voiced it in that way, but… she’d humiliated Bill Hooke during that interview last month, which was obviously directly in correlation to what Darcy had told her.
Darcy didn’t really know. She’d never had a sexual relationship like this, where it was so… ongoing. Where she felt so aligned.
With a deep sigh, she crossed to her balcony and slipped out of the sliding door, walking forward to brace herself against the railing. And maybe, possibly, she did duck her head slightly into the neck of the oversized sweatshirt she’d taken from Juliet’s closet.
It had that same dried-in-sunshine scent that Juliet’s bed did. That her hair did, sometimes. In the morning, after she woke up.
“Well, well, well, is that a new addition to the wardrobe?” Blythe’s voice came from the balcony to her right.
Darcy startled, swearing as she slammed her knee hard into the railing. “Jesus! Haven’t you ever heard of not scaring the shit out of someone when you’re both standing on balconies dozens of stories high?”
“Must have missed that adage,” Blythe shot back.
Darcy shifted to look at her. Their rooms were in a row – Blythe had 1919, Darcy was in 1921, and Emerson was in 1923 – and they all had these small balconies.
There was a slight partition between each one, but when leaning against the railing the way Darcy and Blythe both were, they could see one another.
Her sister had walked to the side of her balcony that directly faced the partition and Darcy, leaning forward on her forearms. “Yeah, that is most definitely not a sweatshirt you’ve owned.”
“I can buy new things,” she defended, feeling her cheeks heat.
“You can but you don’t,” Blythe, accurately, pointed out. “And that’s not new; it’s worn in.”
So sue her; her favorite items of Juliet’s were ones she’d clearly had for a while, like that t-shirt still in Darcy’s possession.
She merely shrugged back, even as she rolled her eyes at herself. Great defense, Darce.
“What are you doing out here? It’s almost midnight,” she pivoted.
Blythe didn’t miss a beat. “I was on the phone with Colton. Just hung up before you got back,” she intoned, arching Darcy a look.
“Right, right,” she muttered.
Blythe did always stay up until midnight or one when they were on the West Coast, so she could have that pre-bedtime call with Colton before he went to bed back in East Coast time.
“And how is my future brother-in-law?” She asked. “How’s the house coming along? Did he finish the kitchen reno?”
She had to admit, Blythe’s home was gorgeous. Unsurprisingly, her sister had a vision of exactly what she wanted the inside to look like, and Colton, with his expertise in construction, had taken to making it happen over the last month and a half.
“Good,” Blythe succinctly answered. “Let’s cut to it: are you going to own up to having a fuck buddy or what?
You think I haven’t noticed you never staying in the hotel almost every time we’re in L.A.
the last couple of months? That I haven’t noticed you sneaking back in the mornings? Give me some credit.”
Darcy’s heart skipped a beat at the direct question, and she had to make the split-second decision: confirm or not?
She’d always said that she hadn’t come out to Blythe because it didn’t really matter. There was nothing she was hiding before, it just wasn’t really relevant.
But with a denial on her lips right now, it… it felt a lot like a lie.
So, she swallowed that down, and felt butterflies flutter to life as she quietly admitted, “Yeah. I’ll own up to it.”
Even in the darkness of the night, she could see the laser-intensity in her sister’s stare. “So… are you finally going to tell me that the person you’re sneaking off to have sex with all of the time is a woman? Or should I keep pretending that I don’t know that, either?”
Darcy’s arms literally slipped from the railing as the shock pounded through her, her mouth falling open from it. “What?!”
Blythe stood up straight, offense etching over her expression. “Oh my god, are you seriously going to look me in the eye and deny it?”
“No!” The word shot out of her mouth before she even thought about it.
But… she couldn’t lie to Blythe. She might not have told her about her sexual orientation or the women she’d hooked up with, but Blythe hadn’t ever asked about them before.
“No. I’m not going to deny it,” she said, softly. She reached out and wrapped both hands around the railing, gripping it tightly. Her heart sped up in her chest, making her feel slightly lightheaded, before she said, “I’m… uh, I’m a lesbian.”
Blythe looked entirely nonplussed. “Yeah, I’ve kind of figured that out.”
Darcy tossed her hands into the air, because what?! “Since when?”
“Since… when was it?” Blythe looked up into the distance as she brought her hand up, tapping her chin.
“Two years ago? Ross, from Colton’s construction crew, saw you leaving the bar at the end of one of your shifts, getting all handsy with some woman.
He told Colton. Colton beat his ass because he thought he was spreading salacious rumors about you.
Then he came home and told me, and I thought…
huh. That actually makes a ton of sense, because you hadn’t gotten home until almost five in the damn morning.
And you had a hickey that I saw before you covered it up. ”
For several long moments, she could only stare. This whole time, Blythe had known.
“Colton beat Ross up for that?” She finally asked, wincing.
“Of course he did.”
“No way did he use the word salacious.” Darcy couldn’t help but call bullshit there. She knew Colton very well, loved the guy to pieces, but a wordsmith he was not.
Blythe pursed her lips. “Fine, I embellished with that word.”
Darcy shook her head, this new reality taking shape in her mind.
“If you knew…” She trailed off, because Blythe had known?! “If you knew for so long, why did you make those comments to me about men?”
“Because I was trying to get you to tell me without outing you or whatever!”
“Outing me to myself?” She asked incredulously, laughing with it.
“I don’t know the lingo!” Blythe insisted, defensively.
Which was fair. Because while Darcy was sure there were other queer people in Pineford, she didn’t really know about them.
Blythe’s eyes narrowed. “I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me? Did you think… I mean, I know that there are some real closed-minded people back home. Do you think I’m one of them?”
Her sister’s hurt was evident in her voice, something deep and emotional, something she so rarely showed to Darcy.
Even though she and Blythe had always been a team, even though they’d always been the only reliable family for one another that they’d ever had, it wasn’t really easy being soft with one another.
When they were little, they’d spent so much time getting by leaning on one another – not by being gentle and soft, but by propping one another up.
Pushing one another forward. By being strong for each other.
Knowing that if they fell apart, it would be the other one who needed to pick them up all on her own.
And they’d never wanted to put the other in that position.
“I didn’t think that,” she swore, her voice hoarse as the nerves coursed through her all over again.
“But… I guess I was worried about anything that could change the status quo for us. It wasn’t necessarily about you,” and she really meant it.
It was all just so complex inside of her.
“I knew you’d always love me, no matter what,” she promised, her heart laced into her words.
“Just look at Ross, though. Back home, people would talk. It could make things a little harder for you or Colton, too. And, for what? I wasn’t, like, looking for love.
So it didn’t seem like a big deal to keep to myself. ”
Her sister’s lips were pulled down into a frown, her eyes wide and searching.
Maybe Darcy should have told her, before. But it was too late to change anything, now.
With a deep breath, she added, “Seriously, though, there was never anything really to tell. Yeah, I slept with women from the bar. But I was never dating them or anything.”
She stared across at Blythe, watching her take it in. Watching for any sign that she’d done something that might render their trust or change something.
But her sister slowly nodded, accepting what she said, and Darcy could have melted with relief coursing through her.
“I bet Emerson knows. Right?” Blythe asked after a few seconds, shooting her a knowing look.
Both of them jumped when Emerson’s voice came from the balcony on the other side of Darcy’s. “Yes. She does. And she should probably tell you, now, that she’s also out here.”
Heart racing yet again, Darcy spun around. “Em! What the hell are you doing?”
“Seconded!” Blythe cried out, her hand slapped over her chest.
Emerson scooted out her chair that had been clearly against the railing behind the partition, having hidden her from them.
“I was sitting out here drinking tea hoping to calm my stomach, and I started to doze off… only to wake up when you two started talking!” Emerson insisted, gesturing wildly at them.
“I didn’t know when it would be a good time to speak up. ”
She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from her throat, and Blythe’s chuckle quickly followed. Emerson joined in, and Darcy… she just breathed through it.
Blythe knew about her. She’d always known. And everything was fine.
She breathed in deeply as her laughter faded, Juliet’s scent filling her lungs, making her stomach tie into tingling knots.
“Sooo,” Blythe started in a leading tone, leaning over her railing toward Darcy. “Are you going to tell me who it is, or am I going to have to wait years for that, too?”
Juliet’s name almost jumped from her mouth, at the ready.
Before she snapped it closed, thinking about all of Juliet’s precautions. Was she allowed to tell Blythe? Well, obviously, she was allowed to do whatever she wanted. But… would it upset Juliet? Would it count as betraying some silent rule that Darcy didn’t know?
“I, uh, can’t tell you. Right now,” she tacked on, quickly adding, “And not because of not trusting you, it’s not about that.”
Blythe narrowed her eyes, giving a soft, thoughtful hum. And because she knew her sister, she knew she was thinking about who it could be.
Darcy’s stomach danced with anticipation when her sister opened her mouth.
“I bet Emerson knows.” But her tone was lighthearted.
Laughter bubbled up all over again. “Oh my god.”
“I’m pleading the fifth,” Emerson cut in.
“I knew it!”
Darcy only shook her head. There. Blythe knew about her, and nothing had changed. And, if it did, maybe it was a good thing.