Chapter 29 Gemma
GEMMA
For a split second, Gemma thought that her worst fears had come true as she felt the empty bed next to her, but then the whir of the Nespresso machine and the scent of coffee assured her that Rory wasn’t too far away.
She burrowed her head back into the deliciously soft pillows.
The sun was streaming in through the windows, and Gemma felt it on her face.
She gently stretched her limbs, feeling the telltale signs of having been thoroughly fucked.
A warm body pressed into hers, and Gemma felt Rory's breasts squish into her back. She loved how comfortable Rory was becoming with her body around her. A warm mouth trailed kisses down Gemma's neck, and a firm hand pulled her hips into Rory's centre.
“Good morning.” Rory mumbled out between kisses.
“Hmm morning.”
Gemma rolled over and settled into Rory's arms. This would be a perfect way to wake up every day, she thought. To be in Rory's arms and face the day together. She pushed the thought away, but not as far as she thought she would.
“What’s the time?” She reached across Rory to tap her phone screen, only to yelp as Rory took advantage of her being draped over her to start a firmer, more intentional caress.
“Stop it.” She good-naturedly slapped Rory. “We have to face the grandmothers this morning, and it’s bad enough that we’re exhausted from getting too little sleep last night without you getting me going all over again.”
“So, a joint shower is out then?” Rory raised that eyebrow that made Gemma's stomach flip and her clit tighten.
Gemma rolled her eyes and groaned. “You are insatiable, woman!”
As soon as the words left her mouth, her lips stilled, and the air in the room stiffened. Gemma swallowed hard, but a lump the size of a tennis ball had lodged in her throat.
“Shit Rory, I, um…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. Rory had frozen underneath her.
“It’s okay.” Rory's eyebrows were drawn together. She got out of bed and reached for her vest top. Gemma then remembered that she hadn’t managed to get Rory's boxers off last night, and her words sounded even more cruel considering that.
Gemma looked around in a flustered panic for her T-shirt and hastily pulled it over herself.
Rory was by the window, unseeing eyes looking out over the swimming pool.
Gemma thought about leaving her for a moment but remembered their talk last night and their agreement to be open with each other from now on.
“Rory? Are you okay?” She stepped behind her girlfriend and wrapped her arms around her.
“Do you still see me as a woman?” Rory's question was unexpected but not harsh.
“Sometimes,” Gemma answered honestly.
“And other times?”
Gemma swallowed around the lump that was still there.
“Other times I don't really think about it. I see you. I see Rory.” She spun Rory around to look her in the eyes. These were not words that could be spoken to her back; she needed to say them to Rory's face.
“I don't see you as a man if that’s what you’re asking.” She took Rory’s hands in hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“I see you as my girlfriend, my person. The one human in this world who gets me, who goes to pottery even though she hates it.”
Rory smiled at the remembrance of their disastrous pottery excursion.
“I see Rory. Just Rory. Bad ass lawyer, dedicated daughter and the best lover I have ever had!” Gemma saw Rory’s cheeks blush red. “I see my best friend, my safe space. And yes, sometimes I see a woman who is strong enough to say to the world ‘Fuck you, this is who I am.’”
Rory pulled her forward, so she nestled in her arms. The gentle sobs that came out of her broke Gemma's heart until she looked at Rory's face.
“You really see all that?” Rory managed through her tears.
“I see all that and more!” Gemma confirmed. “Although I generally see my hot as hell girlfriend and wonder when I can get her naked again.”
Rory tipped her head back and howled with laughter. “Now who’s insatiable?”
“Would you prefer partner?” Gemma asked. “I never want to refer to you in a way that will upset you.”
Rory took a deep shuddering breath and squeezed Gemma tight. Just as she was about to call for mercy, Rory released her.
“That’s the thing. I do like being your girlfriend. And when you said what you did earlier, it stunned me, not because you upset me, but because it didn't upset me.”
Gemma let the implications of that statement settle in her.
Any further thoughts, however, were interrupted by her phone blaring its ringtone through the room.
Gemma dived onto the bed and grabbed it from the nightstand.
Cursing, she saw her grandmother’s name flash on the screen just as she went to answer it.
“Gemma Louise Armstrong!” Her grandmother didn't give her time to greet her. “It’s nine thirty, and we have been waiting half an hour for you and Rory. They only serve breakfast until ten, so if you want something to eat then you’d better get here sharpish.”
Her grandmother hung up, and Gemma turned to Rory, who was already heading for the bathroom.
“We need to be quick.” Gemma raced after her. “We’ve been summoned!”
Gemma thanked the waiter as he placed the plate of food in front of her. Apparently, both she and Rory had worked up an appetite last night as both their plates were piled high with sausages, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread and, to her grandmother’s consternation, baked beans.
“Gosh, you must be hungry?” Mary sipped her coffee and eyed the plate of food Gemma was about to eat.
“Did you sleep all right?” Phyllis asked Rory. “You look ever so tired.”
Gemma spluttered into her orange juice and saw the faint pink tinge rise on Rory's cheeks.
“As well as I could.” Rory's voice was grave and serious, and Gemma wondered if that’s how she sounded in a courtroom.
Phyllis patted her hand. “Well, that’s understandable.” She shook her head and elegantly buttered a piece of toast before slathering it with strawberry jam. The silence hung around the table as she methodically chewed.
Gemma shifted awkwardly in her chair and started to eat. She remembered all the times her grandmother had chided her for her table manners and so strove to eat as much like a lady as she could. Even though Gemma rebelled against her parents’ rules, she always behaved well for Mary.
“So then, girls, what have you been up to in London?” Mary broke off a piece of croissant and popped it in her mouth. “Have you seen much of each other?”
This time it was Rory's turn to splutter into her drink.
Unfortunately, it was her coffee, and it shot up her nose and down her chin.
She swore and grabbed a napkin to dab herself off.
Fortunately, it had missed her shirt. As she dried coffee off herself, she shared a heated look with Gemma that reminded Gemma just how much of each other they had seen over the past few weeks.
Happily, this episode was largely ignored by both Phyllis and Mary. Phyllis was glaring at Mary, and Mary was blushing a deep red.
“Mary,” Phyllis hissed, “we spoke about this.” Phyllis dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “We don’t assume pronouns.”
Mary nodded her grey-haired head. “Sorry Rory.”
Rory stared open-mouthed at the two women before quickly snapping it shut. Gemma stifled a grin. Many times as teenagers, she’d heard Phyllis chastise Rory for hanging her mouth open.
Rory cleared her throat and shifted in her chair.
Her knife and fork rested perfectly on her plate, and her back was ramrod straight.
As teenagers, their grandparents had always instilled good manners in both girls and to Gemma, and it seemed Rory as well, it was now as natural as breathing.
Rory took a sip of coffee, and Gemma thought there was a slight tremble in her hand.
She longed to reach over and press her hand to her arm for support.
Or to have a hand in the small of Rory’s back.
She knew that brought Rory a lot of comfort and dearly wanted to give that to her now.
Instead, all she could do was send as much love as possible, silently, to her girlfriend.
“It’s fine Granny.” Rory smiled at Phyllis. “I’m happy with female pronouns.”
“Hmm.” Phyllis hummed into her own coffee and looked carefully at her granddaughter. “I’m sorry for the way the family reacted last night. Your mother was out of line, and I told her so.”
Phyllis’s back was ramrod straight in her chair, and Gemma easily envisioned Rory’s mum, Amanda, being told off by her own mother.
Amanda differed greatly from Phyllis and from Rory.
Phyllis and Rory were both gentle in their approach to the world, kind and decent.
Gemma had come to appreciate Rory’s steadiness as they had navigated the past few weeks together.
Amanda, on the other hand, was the party girl, the bouncy, fun-loving woman who was at the centre of every fun thing.
She was also the one who had peppered Rory with questions last night.
As her rapid staccato of questions had shot forth, Gemma had seen Rory shut down and withdraw into herself, and it had scared her.
Fortunately, Phyllis had shut her daughter down and come to the rescue.
Gemma straightened her spine and silently made a promise to herself and to Rory.
If Rory needed rescuing and defending in the future, she would do it.
Rory was her girlfriend, her lover, and Gemma would protect her.
“Now, I will not pry into what’s going on.” Phyllis patted Rory’s hand. “But I can’t guarantee how your mother will react later or that she won’t pepper you with questions again.”
“It’s really nothing to do with her.” Gemma mumbled. As three pairs of eyes swivelled to look at her, she added. “Well, it isn’t. If Rory wants to talk, then she will. But until then, everyone just needs to accept her as she is.”
Rory shot her a grateful smile and turned back to her grandmother.