Chapter 13 #2
She veers toward the old fast-food place near Main Street where she usually parks, because there's always room and it's not too far from Marlowe.
It's pleasant to walk after a meal at Anton Roe's, though she always wrinkles her nose when the smell of grease from the burger joint hits her.
When she's just a few steps from her car, she hears a laugh that stops her cold.
Her feet freeze mid-stride, and without being able to control the impulse, she turns her head.
And she sees her.
What are the odds that the first Friday night in months Diane has decided to go out to dinner, she runs into Cassidy Collins?
Apparently very high. There's no time to think about what she's going to do, because the girl has already locked eyes with her, and though she can't be completely sure from this distance, something in Cassidy's expression roots her exactly where she stands.
Cassidy, who had been having dinner with Payton before she left to spend the night with that lawyer she's been seeing on and off, recognized Diane immediately.
That sway in her hips as she walks in those impossible red-soled heels, the way she lifts her chin and never lets her guard down — those three things gave her away without question.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Cassidy says, pressing a kiss to her sister's cheek. "Have fun."
Payton smiles — of course she's going to have fun — and not wanting to be any later, she walks away with a wave.
The blonde walks over to Diane. That's the natural thing to do, isn't it? If they run into each other outside Whitestone, it makes sense to say hello — even if that tight expression and those pressed lips are screaming the exact opposite.
"Hey," Cassidy says, tucking her hands into her coat pockets.
Diane glances for a second at the figure disappearing toward a car, then brings her attention back to Cassidy.
"Hey," she replies — not exactly cold, but not exactly warm either.
Cassidy raises an eyebrow, because it is genuinely hard to understand the woman standing in front of her.
She gets that inside the office their dynamic has to stay professional, even distant — any other way would raise eyebrows — but is it the same out here?
And then it hits her: they have never once had a conversation about what's actually happening between them.
Everything that exists between them is limited to encounters charged with want and burning words that leave their bodies humming for hours, so she has no idea what the right move is when they're not sweating inside Diane's office.
"I had dinner with my sister." Cassidy gestures over her shoulder with her thumb. "She just left — she had a date. What brings you out here?"
Diane's heart is beating fast, and she has to swallow twice before her voice decides to cooperate. On the outside she's unreadable, hands loose at her sides, jaw unclenched. Cassidy Collins has no idea what kind of storm is happening inside this woman.
"I had dinner with some friends." Her voice comes out flat, even.
The blonde tilts her head and smiles.
"It's a little early to head home, don't you think?" she asks, eyes bright. "Want to grab a drink?"
Diane tenses — it's almost a visible flinch — and immediately her gaze sweeps across the parking lot as if confirming no one is listening. Cassidy furrows her brows. She invited her for a drink, not to drop her pants for public oral sex.
"I have to go." The answer comes out too fast. "Good night."
Diane opens her car, gets in, and the moment she closes the door she exhales all the air that had decided to stay trapped in her lungs.
But the relief doesn't last, because against the window she hears it — three knocks.
Cassidy's signature three knocks, the same ones she uses when she comes to her office.
"Wait," Cassidy says, green eyes steady on Diane when she lowers the window. "We don't have to go to any bar. But I know a quiet street right around the corner where we could... talk for a while."
Her stomach twists and she feels the pulse between her legs beat with a desperate rhythm.
She wants this. She wants it so badly. But she can't afford this kind of slip.
What if someone sees them? What if someone recognizes Diane?
What would people think if the head of the business development department at the most important consulting firm in California was parked in a car with an employee who's significantly younger than her? The nausea climbs to her throat.
"I have to go," she repeats, and as the window starts to rise, the girl throws out one last question.
"Are you sure?"
Diane clenches her fists, gaze straight ahead, unblinking. Somehow, she can feel Cassidy's disappointment — but what has always drawn her to this girl, one of so many things, is that she doesn't beg, doesn't push. She simply offers, and if the answer is no, she walks away.
Her body stops listening to her brain, and by the time she realizes it, she's already leaning over to push open the passenger door.
"Get in," she says, and straightens up to start the car.
Cassidy slides in and immediately registers the difference between her beat-up Corolla and Diane's sleek Mercedes. She doesn't say anything — a joke would be completely wrong in this moment, while the woman behind the wheel is pulling out of the spot with her brow furrowed.
Diane follows the directions — "Turn at the next one.
Right here. Keep going straight" — but they don't talk beyond that.
A few minutes later they're at the end of a dead-end street, dark and tucked away.
Cassidy isn't going to explain how she knows about this place. She doesn't think now is the time.