Chapter Eleven #4
“Goodbye,” Imogen said pointedly, already starting to close the door.
“Seriously though, good luck,” Niamh whispered enthusiastically, throwing her a double thumbs up.
Imogen chuckled and closed it the rest of the way. Those two really were something else.
She leaned her back against the door for a few seconds to catch her breath before making her way back toward Amy, who was now sitting upright on the sofa. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to have friends who check on you during blackouts.”
“And friends who are incredibly nosy when they know that Amelia Whitlock is in the apartment right next door.”
Amy whipped her head round to look at her. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever full-named me before. I don’t think I like it.”
Imogen laughed. “Sorry. If it helps, that feels like a totally different person to me.” She paused as a realisation sank in. “Only it’s not a different person, is it?” And then reality crashed down on her with a bang. Shit. “And I’ve just remembered why we aren’t supposed to be doing this.”
“Doing what?” Amy stood straight up and walked over to her. “Liking each other? Spending time together? Kissing?”
“Yes,” Imogen said. To all of it.
Amy took her hands and Imogen let her. Because even though she was freaking out because of Amy, Amy’s touch also soothed her. How were those two things possible at the same time? But they were. “How can we make it work? What do you need? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think we make very good friends, evidentially,” Imogen said dejectedly. “So where does that leave us?” Nowhere was the answer that neither of them wanted to face.
“Do you like me?” Amy asked.
Imogen was taken aback by the directness of the question. “You know I do. Liking you was never the problem. It’s the—”
“The fame. The press. The publicity.” Amy nodded in understanding. “I know.” She narrowed her eyes like she was thinking of something. “What if we keep it a secret?”
“Keep what a secret?”
“Us,” Amy said. “What if we continue to date? Like this? In private?”
Imogen studied her for a few seconds, and decided she was being totally serious. “It would never work.”
“Has it not worked so far?” Amy said. “We’re a few dates in and there’s been no drama whatsoever. I’m very discreet when I come here, and I don’t tell many people my business.”
“I know, but it would only last so long, Amy. Someone would find out something eventually. Things don’t stay private forever. Especially not in your world, I’m sure.”
“I can be careful. We can be careful.”
“You’d resent me,” Imogen said. Because who wanted to be someone’s secret?
“Why would I? It’s my idea,” Amy argued. “Do we not owe it to ourselves to see what this could be? Because I don’t know about you, Imogen, but I feel like we’ve got something really good here.” Amy squeezed her hands. “If you do have feelings for me, then don’t let it go. I beg you.”
“But eventually—”
“We can work out eventually down the line.”
Imogen’s heart clenched. On one hand, she knew that what Amy was proposing was a very bad idea.
What was the point in getting even more attached if they inevitably had to end at some point in the future anyway?
Surely, they would both end up getting even more hurt in the long run.
Imogen feared it would destroy her to let herself fall properly for Amy if it couldn’t last forever.
But on the other, far less logical hand, was Imogen ready to let Amy go yet?
Did she not want more time together? Just like tonight?
Ever since Amy had left the bar last week, Imogen had felt an emptiness inside her that hadn’t disappeared until she was with Amy tonight.
Dare she say it? She felt complete again.
The notion seemed ridiculous when she took into account that she and Amy hadn’t even known each other for that long. But it didn’t make it any less true.
“I think you should text Christopher,” Imogen said quietly. God, what was she doing?
Amy looked down at the ground for a few beats then gave a small nod of acceptance. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I’ll text him and tell him that I’m ready to go back to the hotel.”
“No,” Imogen said. Maybe she was choosing the wrong option, but she found that she couldn’t bear the alternative. “I mean I think you should text Christopher and send him home.”
Amy looked up at her, surprise written all over her face. “You want me to stay?”
“Yes. If you want to stay.” Imogen swallowed. This was a step, a bloody big one, and Imogen was terrified. But she was also happy. And if Amy walked out that door right now, Imogen knew that she wouldn’t be happy at all. “I can take you back to the hotel when you’re ready to go.”
“Yeah?” A slow smile started to spread across Amy’s face. She pulled Imogen closer and looked up at her, green eyes shining with hope. “And, um, what if the storm’s too bad for me to go back tonight?”
Imogen swallowed again. “Then you’ll have to stay here with me, and I’ll take you back in the morning.”
Amy’s smile grew wider. “So, we’re going to continue this? You and me? And not as friends?”
Imogen closed her eyes and took a breath.
“Yes, I accept your proposal to date in secret.” She looked at Amy then and smiled.
“Because that’s the most romantic statement anyone’s ever uttered,” she added dryly.
Imogen doubted anyone was going to write any romance novels about it.
But for her, it was a lifeline. A way forward.
A compromise between her wants and her fears.
Amy threw her arms around her. “To me, it’s the most romantic statement in the world.
” When she pulled back from the hug, she cupped her hand behind Imogen’s neck and pressed their foreheads together.
“I can’t wait to date you all over again.
Just you and me.” Then Amy caught Imogen’s mouth in another kiss, this one soft and tender, with every emotion poured into it.
Happiness. Relief. Promise. Maybe even something else with four letters Imogen wasn’t quite ready to face yet—but she could see it happening.
The falling. It was there, hovering between them.
Maybe it had always been there, a driving force behind everything that got them to this point.
If Imogen was worried that she was doing the wrong thing, Amy’s kiss told her otherwise.
Because nothing else that Imogen had experienced in her lifetime had ever felt as good as when Amy’s lips connected with hers.
She sank right into it, letting the kiss consume her, and allowing all of her doubts, and anxieties, and everything else to disappear right out of her mind.
Every touch felt different now. Freer. Easier. Like now that they’d chosen this—chosen each other—they were finally on the same page with no secrets, with no pretence. Just two women who liked each other and had agreed to let this thing between them happen. It was liberating.
“So, person I’m officially dating,” Amy said once they pulled apart. She laced their fingers together again. “What do we do now? Are you hungry?”
Imogen laughed. “Seriously? Food? After all of that, that’s what you’re thinking about right now?”
“What?” Amy said, laughing too. “My toasted sandwich is right over there looking at me. It’s too good not to finish.”
Who was this woman? Imogen shook her head affectionately. “Alright. If you’d rather eat than kiss me. Let’s eat.”
Amy gasped. “That is not true. I already let all your kissing interrupt my eating. Happily.” She slowly dragged Imogen back over to the breakfast bar and turned. “Besides, I’m going to eat this and then I’m going to kiss you all night. That okay?”
Imogen let out a theatrical sigh. “Fine, if you insist.”
She grinned at the pretend look of shock on Amy’s face.
They both took their seats and ate their cold dinner, lit only by candlelight.
If the problem with the electric was widespread, the repair people probably wouldn’t make it all the way out to Ballyluck to fix theirs until tomorrow.
By the sounds of things, the wind hadn’t calmed down much, which wouldn’t speed up the process either.
Once they had finished eating, Imogen quickly rinsed their plates in the sink while Amy filled their drinks and carried the glasses into the living room. Imogen lifted the two candles from the table and joined her there as soon as she was done. She turned her body to face Amy on the sofa.
“I’ve never seen any of your films. You know that, right?
” Imogen had been thinking about it while she was in the kitchen and apparently her brain had decided to blurt it right out.
She had been toying with the idea of watching one when she had been sad and missing Amy.
But she had managed to resist. She much preferred the woman over the fantasy.
Amy looked amused. “I’d guessed—all things considered.”
“Does that not bother you?”
“Why would it bother me? I already told you, I like that you don’t know that side of me. It makes me feel like a regular person.” Amy held up a finger. “I also hate saying those words about myself because I am a regular person.”
“You just have a not-so-regular job,” Imogen said.
That seemed to resonate with Amy. “Exactly. A lot of people find it intimidating. Either that, or they find it way too intriguing. I love that you don’t.”
“Well, I love that you don’t act like a total diva,” Imogen said teasingly.
“Oh yeah? How do you know?”
Imogen made a pfft sound. “Please. A diva would never have been out walking in all that rain tonight.”
“I’ll agree with you there,” Amy replied. She raised an eyebrow. “What else do you like about me?”