Chapter 29
“Get up, darling.” A knee nudged Nala’s hip. “Rise and shine. It’s a sunny and bleak Portland day, and you told me we could go on a date. Get up.”
She rolled over, warily opening her eyes to see Varen standing between her and the morning sunshine. Oh, go away. Not Varen. The sun. Nala liked her days cloudy and drizzly with a side of wind. Life in Nevada was hard.
“Don’t make me yank you out of this bed.”
Varen threatened to do that, hooking one hand beneath Nala’s arm and pulling her across the bed until she looked at the hardwood floors.
“I am serious. I have breakfast cooking downstairs, damnit. Are you going to waste your life sleeping when you could be eating food I cooked?”
Who is this annoying fucker and why is she bothering me?
Nala shook her off and sat up, the long hair she tried to keep in a neat bun for sleep falling out all over the place.
Half her hair fell down her side while the other twisted in snarls on top of her head.
I must look the sight. If Varen was frightened, she was clouded by her need to shove food down Nala’s throat.
“Do we have to start so early?” Nala dragged herself out of bed while Varen jogged to the window and opened the curtains. Holy fucking hell! Nala nearly fell over again from the blinding rays of, well, hell. What right did the weather have being so nice today? Disgusting.
“We’ve got a lot of nothing to do,” Varen said. “Besides, it’s ten. It’s not early.”
Nala woke up when Varen sauntered past the bed wearing nothing but those loose-fitting sweatpants and sports bra. Hello, sexy. She scratched the back of her head and remembered the way Varen made love to her two nights ago. Last night, we went straight to bed.
“Speak for yourself, gorgeous.” Nala let out a morning burp and scratched her side. If she had any chance in hell surviving today, she would need a quick shower.
She came out, only a little refreshed, and descended the spiral staircase to find Varen back in the kitchen, humming a nonsense tune while turning sizzling bacon and slapping toast on plates.
The moment she saw Nala, she patted a barstool at the counter.
“Sit down and enjoy the tastes of Café Lake, Ms. Nazarov.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Nala slumped onto a stool and held her head up with one shaking hand. “I don’t know this Varen. Where’s the woman who downs coffee and a bagel before driving to her office and getting catered there?”
“Sometimes it’s possible to get a great night’s sleep and look forward to what is supposed to be a fun and relaxing day.”
Semi-shirtless Varen deposited seasoned eggs onto a plate and served it to Nala.
She yawned, stabbing eggs with a fork and dubious that they would be any good.
She had never, ever seen Varen cook anything outside of a toaster or microwave, and Nala trusted other people’s cooking about as much as she trusted Xan Ravenwood.
“Shit, I guess you can cook. Somewhat.” Eggs fell unceremoniously from Nala’s mouth and littered her plate. “Thanks for this, by the way. Sorry. I’m totally not awake yet.”
“No problem.” Varen turned off the stove and rounded the counter, landing a kiss on Nala’s cheek before digging into her breakfast. “I’m starving.”
Nala touched her cheek, feeling the traces of the early morning kiss.
What is happening? She barely saw Varen the day before since she was finishing up that project.
Is this left over from two days ago? Once Varen got it in her head that Nala needed reassurance, she started going overboard.
Not that Nala minded. She simply wasn’t used to it from a woman like her.
Where was stoic Varen? Where was heartbroken and mad at a grieving world Varen?
Okay, so Nala didn’t want her to always be that way…
but this was such a 180 from how she usually was that Nala couldn’t help but wonder if she fell asleep in one world but woke up in another. Is my sister alive here?
While they ate, Varen attempted to make plans for the day. “Loose plans,” of course, since they were supposed to be relaxing. All she would say was that they had somewhere to be by eleven – but not to worry too much, because she had parking already handled.
“Dress warm,” she said, washing dishes in the sink while Nala went upstairs to freshen up and change. “We’ll be outside a lot of the day.”
Oh, boy.
All Nala could assume was another trip to some gardens.
Bearing that in mind, she dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt, layering with her thickest sweatshirt.
“Perfect.” Varen snuck up from behind, wrapping her arms around Nala’s midsection while kissing the side of her neck. “That’s absolutely perfect.”
Varen wandered to her dresser and pulled out similar clothes for herself. Nala could only watch in awe, wondering what strange planet this was – besides Portland.
By the time they were ready to go, they looked like a similar pair.
Except everything Varen wore was of the highest quality, from her sturdy designer jeans to her super soft cotton T-shirt with pithy tech sayings Nala did not understand.
She’s gone geek today. This was further proven when she pulled on a thick “Stanford Computer Science” sweatshirt styled with binary in the background.
The dark red looked striking on her. I’m awake, I guess.
“Meet me in the car downstairs, darling,” Varen said, disappearing into the bathroom a final time. “We don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?” This was Nala’s tenth attempt at finding out what was going on. Alas, Varen’s lips were sealed.
Her car was transformed from a businesswoman’s no-nonsense vehicle to a young, hip thirty-year-old’s wheels.
Nala buckled up the moment Varen appeared at the driver’s side door and helped herself in.
When the car started, Nala wondered if she should start making the signs of the cross or relax for once in her life.
Then again, she really, really did not like surprises. Knowing her luck, Varen was taking her to a dog fight or, even worse, a nerd fight. What would that be anyway? A Magic the Gathering brawl?
They braved morning traffic, Varen turning on the radio for the first time in Nala’s presence.
Adult contemporary blared from the speakers, and Nala wondered what kind of music a woman like Varen Lake listened to.
She half expected to find a Maroon 5 CD in the glove compartment.
CDs? Pshaw. This woman’s got Sirius radio.
Traffic became more congested the farther west they went on Burnside.
They were held up momentarily outside the big bookstore.
Nala looked out the window and saw people coming in and out with large paper bags stuffed with books, looking pleased with themselves for supporting one of the biggest indie enterprises in America.
Varen caught her looking. “We can go there later if you want. I’ve been thinking about stopping by to check for a few things.”
Nala remained noncommittal. If Varen wasn’t going to tell her what they were doing, then she wouldn’t be forthcoming about what she wanted to do. That’s against my best interests, come on. Nevertheless, she could be ridiculously stubborn like that.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, watching Varen whip a sudden left near Providence Park.
“Don’t you dare tell me.” People were cramming their cars into parking, jumping out wearing green and white scarves and carrying TIMBERS pennants like they were running toward the rapture and angels themselves made an appearance. “You are way too nerdy for this shit.”
“Nobody is too nerdy for soccer.” Varen put up her parking permit sticker and hopped out before Nala had the chance to further protest.
She thought back to that night they met when she told that bartender she didn’t care for Ducks or Beavers.
Only Timbers. Was this irony’s way of getting her in the ass?
Not that Nala hated soccer or even sports by an extension…
but her idea of a rip-roaring day did not have anything to do with soccer.
Thanks to Varen’s connections, they went straight to the front of the line, complete with drinks and some popcorn to get their day started.
I can’t believe we are doing this. They had good seats.
Not great, but it was apparent that not even this CEO was buying boxes at sporting events.
Varen was a lot more at home surrounded by people wearing war paint and waving their pennants in pride.
Nala had no idea who the opposing team was.
She didn’t recognize any of the chants. She barely knew the rules but was determined to figure them out before resorting to asking Varen, who booed the officials with the best of them.
Who the fuck is this woman? Nala didn’t know if she was endeared or frightened.
Ever since the other night… Varen had changed right in front of her.
Changed for the better? God, she hoped so.
“Okay, what the hell does offsides mean?”
Nala asked her this three times, but over the rabble of the other people around them, Varen never heard her.
When Nala tugged on her sweatshirt sleeve, Varen brought her into a hug, as if that’s what she wanted.
Eventually, Nala remembered that she could look things up on her phone.
She quickly became one of those terrible people who spent more time staring at her screen than watching the game.
Then again, in her defense, she was researching soccer stuff!
I only know “we’re” winning because the score is in our favor.
She knew that scoring goals got points. The other nuances of the game, however, were completely lost on her.
It took her about an hour, but she finally realized that understanding the game didn’t matter.
It was more about spending time with Varen, the woman she was slowly considering her girlfriend.
Not a fake girlfriend, either. A real girlfriend.
She gazed at her profile as she cheered for her team.
There was so much renewed energy in her that Nala was a little scared.
Was this what she was like before Desirée’s death?
Was this the Varen that woman knew? Nala had never met her before.
When she curled her hand over her knee and Varen barely noticed, that somehow made her happy.
Nala looked around the audience, seeing the usual suspects.
Groups of buddies going all out with their cheering.
School kids making the most out of their youth.
Older people, younger people. Men and women.