Chapter 8
The cool tile pressed into the backs of Casey’s thighs where she sat on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water.
Droplets still slid down her arms from her wet hair, each one leaving a faint trail that made her skin tighten against the warm night air.
She had already fetched the wine from the kitchen.
The glass felt slick with condensation in her hand, something solid to hold onto after Melissa’s sudden appearance had torn through the careful evening they had been building.
The sauvignon blanc tasted sharp, but did nothing to settle the knot in her stomach.
It wasn’t shame exactly. Something closer to exposure. She’d thought the ending with Melissa was clean, mutual. Apparently Melissa hadn’t received that memo.
Casey raked her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it off her forehead. The motion sent another trickle of water down her spine. “I’m so embarrassed,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
She had known Stephanie only a handful of days. Yet something about the other woman’s quiet way of listening made the truth feel safer than it should. Or maybe Casey was simply tired of pretending her choices had not left small hollows behind.
Stephanie turned her head. The dark waves of her hair had come down from the messy bun she’d worn in the pool and now fell loose around her face, brushing her collarbone in damp, heavy strands.
Water still clung to her skin in the soft glow from the house lights.
“Don’t be.” Her voice came gentle, sliding under Casey’s skin and settling somewhere warm.
“I’m… intrigued. I’ve lived such a boring, normal life. I can’t imagine…”
The word intrigued landed in Casey’s chest like a small spark.
She took another sip of wine to cover the way her pulse answered it, the cool liquid doing little against the sudden awareness of how close their thighs rested along the tile.
Close enough to feel the faint heat coming off Stephanie’s leg.
She should shift away. She stayed exactly where she was, toes flexing in the water, sending slow ripples that lapped against Stephanie’s calves.
“What?” Casey asked, keeping her tone light even as her thoughts spun ahead, reading every small shift in the other woman’s expression.
Stephanie let out a breath that carried years in it. “I don’t know. Sneaking around with someone so much younger than me. I just can’t picture it.”
The words dropped between them and spread outward.
Younger. The gap had never felt particularly wide until someone else named it.
Seventeen years between her and Melissa.
Sixteen between her and Stephanie. Casey let her gaze trace the faint tension along Stephanie’s jaw, the way her fingers had tightened around the stem of her glass.
Part of her wanted to laugh at how neatly she had walked into the exact situation she had sworn to stop chasing.
Her body had other ideas.
It kept noticing the damp strands of hair clinging to Stephanie’s neck, the way the pool water made her skin gleam, the quiet steadiness that felt more dangerous than any flash of obvious beauty.
“Well, I doubt Melissa made a habit of it,” Casey said carefully. She didn’t want to sound defensive, but the urge to explain herself pressed against her ribs anyway. “We just clicked when we met through a mutual friend…”
Stephanie lifted her glass and drank. The motion was graceful, but Casey caught the slight unsteadiness in her wrist. Or maybe she only imagined it. The wine had left a faint sheen on Stephanie’s lower lip. Casey looked away.
“I mean, I’m sure Gary’s dating women half his age now so…” Stephanie’s voice trailed off, dry and self-deprecating in a way that twisted something inside Casey’s chest.
The name Gary landed oddly, a reminder of the life Stephanie still carried with her. Casey turned the stem of her glass between her fingers, watching the pale liquid swirl. “Half his age? That’s a little harsh on Melissa. She was only seventeen years older than me.”
Stephanie nearly choked on her next swallow. The small sound broke the quiet of the courtyard. Her eyes widened, genuine surprise cutting through whatever careful distance she usually kept between them. “Seventeen?”
Casey hummed in confirmation, the sound low in her throat. “Hmm.”
She let the silence stretch, toes circling slowly through the cool water.
“Our age difference was never a problem,” she said.
“How could it not be though?” Stephanie asked. The bewilderment in her voice sounded real.
Casey shrugged, shoulders loose even as her pulse beat a little harder at her throat. “You said you were forty-six. We’re sixteen years apart. Has any of the time we’ve spent together been… I don’t know… awkward?”
Stephanie’s brow furrowed. Water dripped from her lashes as she considered the question. The pause felt long. Casey’s stomach tightened in the space of it, waiting for the answer she suddenly needed more than she wanted to admit.
“No,” Stephanie said at last, her voice soft with surprise. “It hasn’t.”
The words landed warm and dangerous in Casey’s chest. She wanted to lean in. Instead she stayed rooted on the warm tile, fighting the pull that made her new rule feel suddenly fragile.
This woman was not available. She was still untangling a twenty-year marriage. She was straight. She was leaving in a handful of weeks.
Casey took another sip of wine. The cold slid down her throat and settled heavy in her stomach. Her gaze kept drifting, against her will, to the loose dark waves now brushing Stephanie’s shoulders, the way a single damp curl had caught at the corner of her mouth.
It was safe to look.
Stephanie was straight and not looking for anything.
And definitely not with her.
Casey could sit and enjoy the quiet conversation, and let her mind wander just enough to imagine what it might feel like if Stephanie turned her head and looked at her differently.
Just for a moment.
Just in her own thoughts.