Chapter 23 #2
She’d done exactly what she’d said she was going to do—she’d pushed her anger towards Bunny aside all weekend and didn’t let it ruin the Cup. But the Cup was over now, and it was time to face this head on.
She turned onto Bunny’s street and her grip tightened on the wheel. And then she saw Aspen sitting on the front porch steps. Elbows on her knees. Two white coffee cups on the stoop beside her. And all of the tension released at once.
She’d slept over at Aspen’s again last night, despite them agreeing to sleep in their own beds to catch up on sleep.
By the time the Cup had come to an end, Maddy was completely exhausted.
She’d gotten home, showered, pulled on a soft gray t-shirt and sleep shorts, and collapsed onto her bed.
And then she’d laid there, grinning at the ceiling like an idiot.
Not because of the trophy. Or the gold medal.
Because of the kiss. The one she’d planted on Aspen the instant the tug-of-war rope went slack and the entire beach erupted into cheers.
And because of every look and graze of a hand over the five hours that followed the kiss while they collected their medals and submitted to Bunny’s mandatory awards-ceremony photoshoot and feasted and celebrated and tore the whole setup down.
She’d lasted about three minutes flat on her back before she turned her head and clocked the champagne still sitting on her dresser. The bottle Aspen had given her to celebrate her promotion, that Maddy had saved to open with Aspen when she won the Cup.
She got up, swiped the bottle, and ten minutes later was knocking on Aspen’s door.
She knew she should have let the woman sleep. They’d gotten almost none of it the previous three nights, on account of being physically incapable of keeping their hands and their mouths to themselves. And Aspen had work in the morning.
One glass, then she’d go, that was what she’d told herself.
It had lasted all of twenty seconds because that was how long it had taken Aspen to open the door in nothing but a robe with water droplets running down her neck from her wet hair and disappearing somewhere under the robe, and Maddy wanted to chase them with her tongue.
They did get to the champagne eventually.
Aspen had gotten up to retrieve the bottle from the kitchen counter where it had been abandoned on their way to the bedroom, grabbed two flutes, and crawled back into bed.
They clinked their glasses together, naked and tangled up in Aspen’s sheets, and toasted to their victory.
When Aspen’s alarm went off a few short hours later, Maddy had to physically roll Aspen out of bed and aim her at the bathroom.
Then she’d gotten up too, because it was only fair, even though Aspen had said that she could stay, that she liked the idea of Maddy still in her bed, asleep and naked, while she went to work.
Maddy planned to revisit that one later.
Then she told Aspen what she was doing that morning.
She hadn’t planned to tell anyone, in case she didn’t go through with it.
But Aspen had been there, watching her get dressed, noticing Maddy’s sudden apprehension, and when she very gently placed a hand on Maddy’s hip and asked hey, everything okay?
It just came out. Aspen had offered to move her clients around and go with her, but Maddy had said it was something she needed to do on her own.
She should have known Aspen would be here waiting for her when she got back.
Maddy killed the engine and caught a glimpse of her own face in the rearview—puffy eyes, mascara streaks, blotchy red where she had cried herself raw—and briefly looked around for a tissue before deciding to give up on the idea that there was any way to fix this mess of a face in the next thirty seconds.
She sighed and got out. Aspen gave her a small wave from the steps and Maddy waved back as she walked up the pathway.
When Maddy sat down next to her, Aspen handed her one of the coffees. “How was it?” She asked carefully.
Maddy took a sip, looking straight ahead. “It was…fine.” Maddy huffed at herself, and corrected. “Good…it was good.”
She felt Aspen’s eyes studying her, likely not convinced. Which was fair.
Maddy let out a soft laugh. “I know I look like a mess…”
“You look beautiful.” Aspen said immediately.
Maddy had spent her whole life making sure she was only ever seen at her most put-together. Being looked at like this, swollen and blotchy and raw on a porch step, should have sent her bolting for cover. It didn’t. Maddy turned to face her.
Aspen reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Maddy’s ear, fingertips grazing her cheekbone and lingering there.
Maddy leaned into the palm of her hand and closed the gap, softly kissing her.
Her own hand came up to rest at the side of Aspen’s neck, where she could feel her pulse.
She didn’t chase anything past it. Just this.
She pulled back a couple of inches and opened her eyes. “Thank you for being here.”
Aspen nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I have to get back soon, my next client is in twenty minutes, but I could call and see if they can come in a bit later, if you want to talk?”
She really was so incredibly sweet. And Maddy knew she meant it, that she’d push the whole rest of her day around without a second thought, just like she’d been doing for the past five weeks whenever Maddy needed help with something.
Maddy took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and shook her head. “No, that’s okay. We can talk later. I’m good, I promise. And I actually need to go talk to my mom about something before I lose my nerve.”
“Okay,” Aspen lifted their interlaced fingers to her mouth and kissed the back of Maddy’s hand. “Can I make you dinner tonight?”
Maddy grinned. “Do you think we can actually make it through a whole meal when your bed is just twenty feet away?”
Aspen laughed. “I’ll come here, so we’ll have a chaperone. Keep things PG. Have a nice meal together and then maybe both actually get some sleep tonight.”
Maddy’s grin melted into a genuine smile. “Sounds perfect.”
Aspen kissed her cheek and pushed off the step to stand. “See you tonight.”
Maddy watched her go, her heart fluttering in her chest.
She sat there for another minute after Aspen’s SUV turned the corner, gathering her thoughts and recalibrating her mind to the next difficult task on her list.
She took a sip of coffee—it was perfect, exactly how she liked it. She took two more sips and stood up.
She crossed the porch and let herself in.
The house was quiet except for the click of small nails on hardwood.
Chanel came around the corner from the kitchen first, rushing up to greet her, and CoCo trailed right behind, getting off a couple of obligatory barks from a safe distance and then disappeared back into the kitchen.
Chanel turned and trotted ahead of her, peering back to make sure Maddy was following.
Maddy followed the dogs into the kitchen and paused in the doorway.
Bunny was at the island, propped on a barstool in her pink robe, reading glasses sliding down her nose, laptop open in front of her, mug of coffee on her left. She was typing something with the focused two-finger hunt-and-peck of a sixty-year-old woman who refused to learn to touch-type.
Bunny looked up, her face brightening by about four hundred percent.
“Oh! Hello, darling, you’re home. I was just emailing Glenda the official results because she has been telling the entire Garden Society that the egg-and-spoon ruling was rigged, can you believe the audacity of that woman?
Did you get some sleep, darling? I heard you sneak out after we got home, you sly devil you, and don’t think for one second I didn’t—”
She stopped, her eyes finally landing on Maddy’s face.
“Oh, honey. What is it?” She took her glasses off and let them dangle from their beaded chain, her brightness dimming.
“Did something happen with Aspen? Did you two have a fight? Did you, oh, you didn’t break up, did you?
Tell me you didn’t break up, because Lord knows I love our Aspen but I told her last night if she so much as thought about hurting you I would personally have her——”
“Mom. No.” She held up a hand. “Please stop. Aspen and I aren’t even—” She stopped herself, now was not the time to nitpick labels. She needed to keep this conversation on track. “Aspen and I are fine.”
Maddy crossed to the island and sat in the stool next to Bunny “Can we talk?”
Bunny fixed her smile back in place. “Of course, baby girl.” Bunny pushed the laptop a few inches to the side. “What did you want to talk about?”
Maddy set her jaw and looked her square in the eye. “You and Olly.”
Bunny went still.
“I want to know how it started. How long it’s really been going on, not just how long it’s been official.
And I want to know why Olly. Of all people.
Dad’s best friend.” Her throat tried to close on the last word.
She pushed past it. “And I want to know why you looked me in the eye and lied about it.”
She laid it all on the table and braced for the deflection. The hand-flutter. The practiced veer Bunny took whenever a question got within ten feet of something real.
It didn’t come.
Bunny was quiet for a moment, which was a small miracle in itself, then she folded her hands together on the island and looked at them.
Finally she nodded to herself, and spoke.
“For years it was nothing, sweetheart, I want to be clear about that. It was just two friends who both missed your father dearly and were doing the best they could to support each other through it.”
Maddy didn’t say anything and let her keep going.