10. Chapter 10
JO
Charlotte's mouth was on hers before Jo finished the sentence.
Jo had imagined this. In the week since her realization, she'd imagined it constantly: what it would feel like, what Charlotte would taste like, whether her hands would shake the way Jo's were shaking now.
Reality was nothing like imagination. Charlotte tasted like salt, like the mint tea she always drank when she was anxious, and her mouth was warm and desperate.
Her hands fisting in Jo's shirt, pulling her closer.
And the sound Charlotte made when Jo's arms went around her waist, small and broken, like relief given a voice.
They kissed badly at first—too fast, teeth bumping, both of them laughing once through tears—and then they found the rhythm they had somehow always had everywhere else. Charlotte's fist tightened in Jo's shirt. Jo's palm spread over the small of her back. Neither of them let go.
Jo's back hit the counter. Charlotte pressed against her, one hand in Jo's hair, the other gripping her hip.
This close, Jo could smell her: vanilla lotion layered over clean sweat, over want.
Jo had never been kissed like this. Had never felt this intensity, this desperation, this certainty that the person in her arms was exactly where they belonged.
"Charlotte," Jo gasped, pulling back just enough to breathe. "Charlotte, I..."
"Don't talk." Charlotte kissed her again. "Please. I need... I can't..."
Jo understood. Talking meant thinking. Thinking meant acknowledging the years they'd wasted, the time they'd lost to fear and obliviousness and careful distance. Right now, they didn't need to think.
They just needed this.
Charlotte's mouth traced down Jo's jaw, found the pulse point in her neck.
Jo's head fell back, a sound escaping her that she didn't recognize.
Her whole body was alive in ways it had never been before.
Every nerve ending singing, the heat of Charlotte's mouth still burning on her skin like an afterimage.
This was what people meant. When they talked about attraction, about desire, about wanting someone so badly you couldn't think straight. Jo had never understood. Had thought she was broken somehow, incapable of feeling what everyone else felt so easily.
Maybe this was why all those old dates had felt like homework. Jo wanted Charlotte without having to talk herself into a single second of it.
"I need..." Charlotte's voice was ragged. "Jo, I've wanted... for so long..."
"I know." Jo kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I made you wait."
"You didn't know."
"I should have. God, Charlotte, everyone knew. Everyone saw it but me." Jo laughed, wet and broken. "My grandmother told me. That you've loved me for years."
Charlotte went still in her arms. "Ruth knows?"
"She knows everything. She's known for years." Jo cupped Charlotte's face in her hands. "She said you were scared that wanting me would cost you the only family you have."
Tears were streaming down Charlotte's face now. Jo brushed them away with her thumbs.
"I'm not going anywhere," Jo said. "You're never going to lose me. You're never going to lose us. No matter what happens."
"How can you know that?"
"Because you're family. You've been family since Grandma Ruth made sure you had a key to the restaurant. Nothing changes that. Nothing could ever change that."
Charlotte kissed her again, softer this time. Jo's hands stayed warm and steady at her waist. For once Charlotte didn't have to decide when to pull away first.
They ended up on the couch. Charlotte curled against Jo's side, head on her shoulder, legs tangled together. Their food sat forgotten on the counter, getting cold. Neither of them cared.
"I can't believe this is real," Charlotte said quietly.
"Same."
"I've imagined this so many times. Telling you. You telling me." Charlotte laughed, shaky. "It was never like this. It was never..."
"This good?"
"This easy." Charlotte tilted her head up to look at Jo. "I thought it would be harder. I thought there'd be—I don't know. More drama. More negotiation. More of you trying to figure out what this meant."
"I think I've been figuring it out for years without knowing it." Jo traced patterns on Charlotte's arm. "The way I felt about you was never normal. Never friend-shaped. I just couldn't see it."
"I should have told you."
"You were protecting yourself."
"I was a coward."
"You were careful. And you're allowed to be careful." Jo kissed her hair. "But I'm glad you texted me. I'm glad you asked to meet. I was going to come over here and confess everything anyway, but I was terrified you didn't feel the same."
Charlotte made a sound that was almost a laugh. "We're both idiots."
"Complete idiots."
"Years of being idiots." Charlotte kissed her. "At least we had good company."
Jo was quiet for a moment. Her hand stilled on Charlotte's arm. "I need to tell you something. And I need you not to take it the wrong way."
Charlotte went very still.
"This is all new for me," Jo said. "Not you.
Not the way I feel about you. That part is the most certain I've been about anything in my life.
But the rest of it. Being with a woman. Figuring out what that means for who I am.
I might need..." She swallowed. "I might need you to be patient with me while I catch up.
I've had about a week to process what you've known for so long. "
Charlotte's hand found Jo's, laced their fingers together. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
"I know. I just wanted to say it out loud. So you knew I wasn't going to pretend this was simple when it isn't."
"It doesn't have to be simple," Charlotte said. "It just has to be real."
"It's real. That's the one thing I'm sure of."
"At least we figured it out eventually." Jo tilted Charlotte's chin up, kissed her softly. "Better late than never, right?"
"Better late than never."
They stayed like that for hours. Talking.
Kissing. Making up for years of things unsaid.
Jo learned all the things she hadn't let herself notice before: the exact way Charlotte sighed when Jo kissed that spot behind her ear.
Her eyes going dark when Jo's hands wandered.
How she said Josephina like it was a prayer.
This was what Jo had been missing. All those years of dating men who left her cold. All those failed relationships, those nights alone, that persistent sense of wrongness she could never explain.
All those years, Jo had kept waiting for attraction to arrive after enough dates. With Charlotte, it had been there before she even knew to look for it.
And the right person had been beside her all along.
"We should probably eat," Charlotte said eventually. "The food."
"Probably."
Neither of them moved.
"Or," Charlotte said slowly, "we could not eat."
Jo's heart rate spiked. "Not eat?"
"There are other things we could do." Charlotte's voice was careful. Testing. "If you want."
Jo swallowed. She wanted. God, she wanted. But she was also terrified. She'd never done this before. Not with a woman. Not with anyone who made her feel the way Charlotte made her feel.
"I've never..." Jo started, then stopped. "I mean, you know I haven't..."
"I know." Charlotte's hand found hers. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
"I'm ready. I think. I just don't know what I'm doing."
Charlotte kissed her. Slow and sweet, with a hint of heat underneath.
"You know how to touch me," Charlotte murmured. "You've known how to touch me since we met. This isn't that different."
"It feels different."
"Good different?"
"Terrifying different." Jo laughed. "But also good. Really good."
Charlotte pulled back, searched Jo's face. "We can take this slow. There's no rush. We have time."
"I don't want slow." The words surprised Jo, but they were true. "I want you. I'm scared, but I don't want fear making the decision for me."
Charlotte's expression changed. The careful control she always wore cracked open, and underneath was raw, desperate want.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." Jo had never been more sure of anything. "Take me to bed, Charlotte."
Charlotte stood. Held out her hand. Jo took it.
They walked toward the bedroom together.
Halfway down the hall, Charlotte stopped. Turned to face her. The light from the kitchen caught the tear tracks still drying on her cheeks, and her expression was open in a way Jo had never seen before. Stripped bare. Years of careful control, gone.
"I'm terrified," Jo admitted. Her pulse was everywhere: throat, wrists, the backs of her knees.
"Me too." Charlotte drew slow circles on Jo's palm. "I've wanted this for so long that I'm scared of what happens after. When it's real and not just a fantasy."
Jo pulled her closer. Pressed her forehead to Charlotte's. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."
Charlotte exhaled against her mouth, and Jo tasted salt from dried tears and the fading sweetness of mint tea.
"Together," Charlotte repeated, and led her through the door.