Chapter 14 #3
Sean was incredibly talented at business, not so much at making coffee.
At that moment, Pat appeared from the stock room, arms full.
“Don’t worry. He’s only allowed to work the register.
We all remember how he almost blew the place up.
” He shot a wink at Beth as she grinned, remembering how Sean had nearly destroyed the espresso machine and all of them in the process.
“I’m only working because we’re short-staffed.” Sean’s grin unfurled, eyes sparkling behind thick black-framed glasses. “My usual stand-in decided she wanted to jump back into her art again.”
It was true. At the beginning of the year, Beth let Sean and Pat know she wouldn’t be able to work her shifts anymore because she was focusing on her art again.
“Are you complaining?” she asked, raising a challenging brow.
“Not at all. You make me a hell of a lot more money with your paintings than with lattes.” He grinned again, Pat tossing a sleeve of compostable cups at him.
“And by that, he means we’re so happy you’re back in your studio.”
Beth grinned, taking a small moment to watch Pat and Sean and how they were with each other as they bickered playfully.
They were opposites, but in a way that made so much sense.
Sean, with his biting sarcasm, quick sass, and endless charm paired with anyone else would easily be a different version of himself, but with Pat?
Pat’s tenderness drew out the best in Sean.
“Earth to Beth.” Pat waved a hand, catching her attention.
“Sorry, what?” she asked dumbly.
“No worries, just asking if you wanted your usual iced lavender oatmilk latte?”
“Yes, please. Make it two. Lily should be here any minute.”
“Oh, right.” Sean moved towards the glass pastry display case, grabbing a pair of tongs and placing two sticky buns in to-go containers. “Happy sticky bun day!” he said excitedly.
National sticky bun day—aka February twenty-first—was a favorite holiday in the Gallagher house.
Co-opted by Lily after she had done a school report on obscure holidays, it had become a family tradition to celebrate.
Slowly, over the years, all of their friends had been looped into the tradition as well.
The door opened once more, accompanied again by the small jingle and a rush of cool winter air as Lily breezed in, joining Beth at the end of the bar as Sean placed their sticky buns and drinks in front of them.
“Hi, Mama,” Lily said. “Hey, Sean! Happy sticky bun day!” She slid her arm around Beth’s waist, leaning into her for a half-hug and a kiss to the temple. “Ready to walk?” she asked excitedly.
Beth had been surprised that morning when Lily had come into the kitchen asking if Beth would want to go for a walk with her to celebrate sticky bun day. Beth, of course, had answered with an emphatic yes.
The jingle saw them out as she and Lily pushed through the door, turning down the street. They chatted animatedly, catching each other up on their days—Lily asking about how her most recent painting was going—as they headed for the waterfront path bordering the marina.
Grey weathered boards creaked beneath their feet, competing with the rhythmic push and pull of water against the rock-strewn beach.
“Come on,” Lily urged. “Let’s sit so we can eat.” She pointed out a bench ahead on the path, picking up her pace.
They slid onto the bench, each sitting cross-legged in mirrored positions.
“I like that we still celebrate sticky bun day,” Lily said, using her fork to take a large bite of the golden brown pastry. “I know you and mom were doing it to humor me… Kinda thought we’d stop doing it eventually.”
“Absolutely not.” Beth grinned, cutting herself a particularly gooey piece of her own sticky bun. “You can pry this holiday out of my cold, dead fingers. It’s my favorite one.” She bit down into the doughy treat, delighting in the sticky cinnamon flavor coating her tongue.
Lily laughed, the sweet sounds filling Beth from the inside out—a sound that had completely enamored her from the very first baby giggle Lily had ever made.
Her laughter faded as Beth watched her daughter take another bite, chewing thoughtfully as she looked out at the lines of sailboats tethered to their posts in the marina, ropes creaking gently with the shifting tide.
“I need to ask you something, but I need you to promise me you’re going to be cool and normal about it.
I’d ask mom but she’s in London. And honestly, I think you’ll have better advice. ”
Worry pulled at her heart, wondering what question Lily had for her that was so important it required a pep talk. “You know you can always ask me anything,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.
The wind picked up the ends of Lily’s hair, trapping them in its little dance before moving on.
She reached up, pulling her jacket tighter around her.
“How often are you supposed to have sex?” Lily said in a rush, taking another bite of her sticky bun.
“Like, what’s a normal number of times in a week?
I googled it, and the number is wildly all over the place, which wasn’t helpful.
There weren’t that many resources specifically for queer relationships, let alone young queer relationships, and I just, I dunno, need to talk to someone about it.
” Her chest heaved, cheeks tinged the palest pink in the same way Beth’s did when she was feeling flustered.
Beth sat there, a bite of sticky bun prepped on the end of her fork, frozen between her container and mouth. She set her fork down, thinking of how best to respond to Lily in a cool and normal way, as Lily had put it. “Is everything okay with you and Wren?” she asked cautiously.
“Ugh, yes, I didn’t say things weren’t okay, I just… Can you answer my question, please?” Her voice was soft, timid almost as she looked at Beth with bright blue eyes, the gray of the day making them even more pronounced than usual.
Beth could do this. She could totally do this.
She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp February air fill her lungs before she exhaled.
“I’m afraid normal,” she said, using airquotes, “is different for every couple.” Lily’s expression shifted ever so slightly, and Beth couldn’t help but wonder if she had been hoping for a different answer.
“Are you feeling like there is too much? Or not enough?” she asked tentatively, wanting to understand better so she could offer Lily guidance that would be helpful rather than an obscure direction she had been offered when navigating this with Sarah back in college.
Lily didn’t answer her at first, then she said slowly, “Neither?” She took another bite of her sticky bun, chewing before continuing.
“I don’t know, ever since Wren and I, you know, started having sex, it kind of feels like we have to do it all the time now.
And it’s not like I don’t want to. I do.
I really like—” Lily’s cheeks turned pink again as she took a deep breath.
“I just also wish we had times where I feel like we can, you know, be Wren and Lily.”
Beth’s heart ached for Lily, understanding the feeling she was referring to. “Have you tried talking to Wren about any of this?”
Lily shook her head. “No, I’ve been meaning to, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings or make her think she’s doing anything wrong, because she’s not.
There’s something wrong with me.” She got to her feet, taking the container and walking it to a trash can nearby.
She pulled her knees up to her chest as she sat on the bench beside Beth once more.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, love,” Beth reassured, her hand reaching out to brush Lily’s cheek.
“Sex changes things in a relationship.” She chewed on her words, trying to make sure she was articulating herself clearly.
“It’s a really wonderful, special gift to get to share with someone, but it takes a lot of trust and even more communication.
That’s not always where the emphasis lies when it feels as good as it does. ”
Lily nodded as she listened, eyes fixed on the horizon.
“If something doesn’t feel right, you should say something to Wren. She loves you. You love her. She’ll understand.”
Lily bit her bottom lip, thinking, the same way Sarah did whenever she played sudoku on her phone.
“In my brain, I know you’re right. But it’s easier to let things go, you know?
Wren and I don’t get to see each other very often, especially now that her season is picking up again.
I don’t want to waste any of our time together fighting or being upset with each other. ”
If there was one thing Beth truly understood, it was that sentiment right there. That one statement from Lily sat so deep in her chest, a permanent behavioral pattern she had adopted around Lily’s age and worked like hell to outgrow.
“I know that feels easier right now, Lils, but trust me. If you start not saying the things that matter now just for the sake of keeping the peace, that’s what builds up resentment down the road.”
Lily uncrossed her legs, shoulders rolling forward as she placed both her feet on the ground. Beth reached out, patting Lily’s knee in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
“Talk to Wren. And if you need to talk to me some more afterwards, you can do that too.”
Lily turned, looking at her with an appreciative smile pulling at the inside corner of her mouth. “Thanks, Mama. For not being weird about this and for being you.”
That evening, just as the sun was starting to dip behind the outlines of the towering evergreen trees that lined her gravel driveway, Beth arrived home after dropping Lily off at the ferry.
They had finished their walk on a good note, chatting a little more about relationships and the importance of communication.
It was not lost on Beth the irony of giving advice on building relationships with good communication, since that had been something she had always struggled with. Well, actually, no, that wasn’t true. She only struggled with communication with one person—Sarah.
Beth prided herself on being an excellent communicator.
Growing up with two psychology professors as parents, emotional intelligence and communication were baked into everything she did.
It was in her words, wrapped up in her emotions, even in her artwork.
So much of Beth’s days were spent communicating in some way, shape, or form.
She parked her car, still lost in her thoughts about the struggles with communication she had faced with Sarah over the years.
From tiptoeing around hard topics, to trying to predict each other’s moods, to filling in the blanks instead of asking for clarification—all habits that had started with the pure intention of not wanting to hurt the other’s feelings, but ended with making a bigger mess than either had intended.
Communication with Jamie had come easier, at least at first. But Jamie had come with walls Sarah never had.
Walls Beth had repeatedly attempted to tear down and chip away at, only to have Jamie erect new ones in their place.
And while talking with Jamie had always been easy, getting her to actually stay and talk—to fight her natural inclination to run—had been challenging to say the least.
Beth unlocked the door, placing her keys in the bowl on the entryway table.
She slipped off her shoes as she moved further into the house when she noticed a light coming from the kitchen, one she hadn’t left on.
As she made her way down the hall, she couldn’t stop the look of astonishment that etched itself across her features.
“Sarah?” she said, surprised, stopping in the space where the hallway opened up to the back of the house.
Sarah was in her kitchen. Correction. Sarah was in her kitchen, leaning casually against the kitchen island, a small, clear container in her hand, looking absolutely stunning.
“What are you…?” Disbelief accompanied her words as Beth tried to understand how Sarah was suddenly here. “You’re supposed to still be in London.”
Sarah straightened, a slow, assured grin spreading across her defined features, hazel eyes flashing with something unreadable. She held the container out for Beth to take, which she did, only then noticing that it contained the most delicious-looking sticky bun.
“It’s sticky bun day,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t think I was going to miss the best holiday of the—”
Wherever else Sarah was going with that sentence, Beth didn’t care. She closed the distance between their bodies in three short strides, pressing up on her tiptoes, hands cupping Sarah’s cheeks, swallowing her surprised gasp as Beth pressed her lips to Sarah’s, reveling in their perfect softness.
Sarah’s body was stiff for only a moment before she relaxed, sighing into the kiss, one of her long arms snaking its way around Beth’s waist, pulling her closer as their mouths moved together out of memory of the thousands of kisses they had shared before.
Kissing Sarah had always felt like coming home, but this time it was different.
“—year,” Sarah breathed, finishing her sentence, her eyes fluttering open. “You know, I had a whole, really charming speech planned.” She mumbled her feeble protest as she tightened her grip around Beth’s waist.
Beth rested her hands on Sarah’s chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the black quarter zip sweatshirt she wore.
Tilting her chin up, Beth gazed up at Sarah, counting the smattering of freckles barely visible beneath her makeup.
“I’m sure it was a great speech,” she whispered, patting her chest gently.
“Really romantic stuff. Definitely swoon worthy, but I like your approach too.”
Beth turned her head, resting it on Sarah’s chest, tucking herself beneath her chin so she could listen to the rhythmic sound of Sarah’s heart beating. “You’re here,” she whispered before glancing at the oven clock. “You must be so jetlagged.”
Sarah kissed the top of her head. “Unbelievably so, but I had to deliver that sticky bun before the end of the day. Gallagher girls stick together, remember?” She laughed. “I’m definitely going to need one hell of a good night’s sleep to bounce back from this travel week.”
Beth was quiet for a moment, still in disbelief that Sarah had come back from her trip early, just for her… Just to uphold their silly little family tradition.
“Stay the night.” Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet, as she whispered, “Stay with me.”