Chapter 23
“Let’s stay here,” Sadie said early that evening, her mouth against the curve where Anne’s neck met her shoulder.
Anne pulled back just enough to look at her. They were cuddling lying down on her bed, on top of the covers, and although anticipation hummed between them, they hadn’t done more for the past twenty minutes than hold each other. For the moment, though, it felt like gluttony.
“You mean Barnard?” Anne needed to make sure Sadie hadn’t meant staying in bed, which would be a reasonable interpretation. “You don’t want to take the job?”
Sadie shook her head against the pillow.
“It’s not that. I want the job, believe you me.
It’s that I want our lives in LA more. I could give you any number of excellent reasons for why I want to stay.
But what you said last night about Claire, that you finally had an easy moment with her—it made me think about Hal, and that’s what decided it.
It’s time for me to make things a little less easy with him, if you get me.
We need to stand up to some hard history together, he and I, starting with a strong dose of accountability from yours truly. ”
Anne remembered the anxious expression on Hal’s face when he’d asked her if she’d treat Sadie right. “And you can’t do that from New York.”
“Not the right way.”
“With multiple face-to-face conversations plus at least one private consultation with Rabbi Aviva?”
“Exactly.” Sadie wore the smile of someone who was known.
“Then we’ll stay here.” Anne squeezed Sadie’s forearm.
“What about the rest of it? You and me? Our next steps?” Yes, she’d fantasized about the two of them merging households immediately, finding some way to make Sadie’s wild decor work with Anne’s staid designs.
But they didn’t have to rush right into living together, did they?
Now that Anne had what she needed—Sadie in her arms, going nowhere—her frantic urgency had faded.
She felt less like a woman who’d lost her oxygen and more like a woman who’d found it.
After all, Sadie’s house was just a hundred feet away, practically an extension of her own.
“You tell me how this sounds.” Sadie’s eyes were warm and full.
“But what I’d like most is, just for the next little while, to keep our lives exactly as they’ve been for the past four years.
Only now, instead of introducing you to everyone as ‘Anne Lowell, the best friend I’ve ever had,’ you’ll be ‘Anne Lowell, the love of my life.’”
“That sounds wonderful.” Wonderful didn’t begin to describe it. Like a sunrise flaring out from her chest into Anne’s head and limbs and toes.
“Anne Lowell, the windshield to my wipers, the net to my mosquito, the midlife to my crisis.”
“And we’ll do this.” Anne kissed Sadie’s cheek, thrilling as she did.
“That and so much more.” The heat in Sadie’s gaze was a perfect promise. “All the reflecting we’ve done this week, the changes we’re starting to make—we’ll keep building on those together.” She smiled at Anne, so fondly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of everything you’ve started.”
Anne glowed. “I haven’t done badly, have I? I’ve got to admit, though, I won’t be sorry when it’s over.” For the last week, she’d been bouncing between extremes, both wonderful and painful, an exhausting cycle.
“Over?” Sadie’s crow’s feet deepened even further, affection spilling beyond her adoring gaze.
“That’s the best part, beloved. It’s never over.
Oh, it’s not always like it’s been for you lately—there are peaceful lulls, too—but if you’re doing it right, you’re never finished with yourself.
The great work continues. All the way until the end. ”
Never finished with yourself? A large part of Anne wanted to protest that she’d already done enough for one lifetime; it was certainly more than she’d ever done in the sixty years prior.
But to Anne’s surprise, the idea kicked up a little delight, too.
Hadn’t she just realized she was more than ready to start pursuing meaningful work?
After all, Anne Lowell didn’t do half measures.
She returned Sadie’s smile and felt the skin around her own eyes crease, too.
“So let’s continue on as we’ve begun. And once we’ve had some time to enjoy just being the happiest women in the world, we can start planning our next steps. Living together, marriage, the whole works. Give you my word.”
Sadie had given Anne so many of her words over the years, but none more important than these. “It’s a plan.”
“Oh, and the baby’ll be here soon! The maraschino cherry on our bliss sundae. You know, it never felt right, the idea of leaving before she’s born. I’m going to be a grandmother, can you believe it? I had a dream last night that I was holding her in my arms and reciting the Shehecheyanu over her.”
”The—what?” The word was Hebrew, clearly, but Anne had never heard Sadie use it. “Shehey—”
“The Shehecheyanu. It’s a blessing for special occasions. Like a baby’s birth, or a reunion with an old friend, or the purchase of a new house. Anything truly important and joyful and uncommon.”
“How about committing to the woman who loves you?”
Sadie sat bolt upright. “I can’t believe I didn’t—” She held her hands out to Anne. “Come on, sit up. We’ve got a blessing to say.”
The last time Anne had actively participated in a prayer had been at her mother’s funeral a few years ago.
Since adolescence, she’d diligently avoided organized religion.
But, somehow, with Sadie, the idea of a blessing seemed less like the humorless rituals of Anne’s childhood and more like an extension of the deep delight bubbling inside her.
Willingly, she sat up and took Sadie’s hands.
“Baruch atah Adonai,” Sadie intoned, her voice low and soft. “Eloheinu melech haolam, shehecheyanu, v’kiy’manu, v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.” A brief beat. “Amen.”
“Amen,” Anne said softly, and squeezed Sadie’s hands. She’d said it differently from Sadie, who pronounced the word ah-meyn. “What did I just say ‘amen’ to? Translate it for me.”
“Blessed are you, oh Lord our God, ruler of everything, who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.” Sadie brushed a strand of hair from Anne’s face. “Shehecheyanu means ‘who has given us life.’”
A lump formed in Anne’s throat. Yes, she’d been given new life. Maybe by the higher power Sadie had spoken to in the desert, or by a God Anne had never truly believed in, or by the barreling pressure of time, or by the woman sitting in front of her.
But above all, Anne was her own creator. She’d given life to herself.
“That expression on your face,” Sadie said quietly. “You look like the stars kissed you.”
Anne wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t matter. She did feel starry-eyed; her mouth was awake, tingling.
“Kiss me, too,” she whispered, and without hesitation, Sadie did.
Desire, never a distant neighbor these days, came right home to Anne. Somehow, it filled her up and made her hungry all at once. She surged against Sadie, kissed her until they were lying down again and tangled up in each other, both breathing heavily.
“This is all your fault, you know,” Sadie murmured after they’d made out for a while, and grabbed Anne’s hip, pulling Anne in flush against her body.
“What is?” Anne gripped Sadie’s back. The flesh underneath her hands was warm and full, good for holding.
“How worked up I’ve been all week. Your fault for existing in the first place, your fault for being a complete savant at dirty talk. Last night was—oh, what are you—”
Couldn’t control it. She was rocking forward, trying to rub herself into Sadie’s bent leg to get some bit of contact. “Just a little,” she said into Sadie’s hair. “Please, it’ll feel so good. Just a little, and then I’ll stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” Sadie sounded hoarse. “I want to give you everything.”
Anne gasped and jerked hard against Sadie’s thigh.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Shh. You’re going to get exactly what you need.”
The curtain of Sadie’s hair was everywhere, obscuring Anne’s vision. It was safe beneath the veil, enough to voice a secret worry. Anne whispered, “What if it isn’t enough? What if I need it again? All the time? What if I don’t stop needing it?”
“Then you’ll get it again. As often as you want. Do you believe me?”
All Anne could do was nod.
“You’ll get everything.” Sadie bent her head a little, angling her face down to nestle into the crook of Anne’s neck.
“Oh God, the way you smell. I’ll take such good care of you, Anne.
A scalp massage, flowers, my mouth, my hands, my ears, the world.
Everything’s yours. Just ask. Or don’t ask. I’ll still give it to you.”
“Sadie—”
Sadie fumbled between their bodies as she undid the clasp at the juncture of Anne’s dress. “And I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you all the time, I’ll make you so happy; all I want to do is make you happy—”
“Please.” Anne was begging for all of it, the promises, the touch. “Please.”
Without hesitation, Sadie slid her hand fully inside the slack V of Anne’s dress and cupped her breast, thumb sliding gently over the top of her lace bra, her stiff nipple. Slowly. So fucking slowly that Anne wanted to howl in frustration.
Into the skin of her neck, Sadie made a sound like hmmm and licked out, her tongue hard and rough.
Anne whined and arched into Sadie’s mouth.
“Almost,” Sadie whispered. “Just a little longer. Be patient while I do this.”
“Patient? I don’t—” Anne was spinning. “What are—”
“You like doing exactly as you’re told, don’t you?” This, punctuated with the graze of Sadie’s teeth just below Anne’s jaw. “No decisions to make, no chance of doing anything wrong. All you have to do is take orders and get wet. You’re doing both right now, aren’t you?”
Anne moaned, the sound obscene.