6. The Wedding Day #2
Margot's answer was to pull her closer, until their bodies were pressed together, until Becca could feel Margot's heartbeat against her own.
"More than okay," Margot said.
They danced in silence for a while. The song was something by a female artist Becca didn't recognize, slow and aching, full of longing. Other couples drifted onto the floor around them, but Becca's entire world had narrowed to the woman in her arms.
"What happens when this weekend ends?" Margot asked quietly.
The question Becca had been dreading. She'd pushed it away, focused on the present, told herself they'd figure it out later. But later was starting to feel very soon.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"I live in New York. You live in LA."
"I know." Becca tightened her grip on Margot's hand, as if the distance were already pulling them apart.
"That's not a commutable distance."
"I know."
Margot was quiet for a moment. They swayed in tandem, neither leading, just moving.
"I don't want this to be just a wedding weekend thing," Margot said finally. "I don't want to go back to my real life and pretend this didn't happen."
Becca's heart seized. "Me neither."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know." Becca pulled back just enough to look at her. "But I think we figure it out. One step at a time. Isn't that what you said?"
"I said that about the wedding."
"Same principle applies." Becca smiled, even though her eyes were threatening to spill over again. "We have phones. We have video calls. We have vacation days. It's not ideal, but it's a start."
"Something is better than nothing."
"Is that a yes?"
Margot leaned in and kissed her, right there on the dance floor, in front of everyone. The kiss was soft and brief but unmistakable.
"That's a yes," she said.
Somewhere nearby, Sophie whooped.
They slipped away from the reception as the party was winding down.
Most of the guests were either drunk or dancing or both. Sophie and Jamie had changed out of their formal wear and were doing something ridiculous on the dance floor that might have been the Macarena. No one noticed as Becca and Margot made their quiet exit.
The walk back to the cottage felt charged.
Becca's hand was in Margot's, their fingers intertwined. The night air was cool and clear, full of stars. Somewhere in the distance, she could still hear the bass thump of the reception music.
"Tonight was perfect," she said. "And Sophie looked so happy."
"She did." Margot squeezed her hand. "So did you."
"Did I?"
"Every time you looked at me. Every time you laughed. You just radiate joy, Becca. It's extraordinary."
"Well, you make me happy."
The words came out simple and honest. Becca meant them with everything she had.
Margot stopped walking. They were halfway to the cottage, surrounded by moonlit vines.
"I haven't felt like this in a long time," Margot said quietly. "The last few years, I've been so focused on work that I forgot what it felt like to want something for myself. To want someone."
"And now?"
"Now I want you. And it terrifies me."
Becca stepped closer. "I'm scared too. In case that helps."
"It does." Margot's eyes were luminous in the darkness. "It does."
They didn't speak again until they were inside the cottage.
This time was different.
The first time had been urgent, desperate. Three days of tension finally breaking. This time was slow and intentional. They had the whole night ahead of them, and Becca intended to savor every second.
Margot reached for the zipper at the back of Becca's dress. "May I?"
"Please."
The zipper came down slowly, tooth by tooth. Margot's fingers trailed along Becca's spine as she went, tracing the newly revealed skin. Becca shivered at the gentleness of it, so different from yesterday's urgency.
"You're so gorgeous," Margot murmured against the back of her neck. "I keep thinking I'll get used to it, and then I look at you and it hits me all over again."
"Flatterer."
"Realist." Margot pushed the dress off Becca's shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. Her hands came around to rest on Becca's stomach, pulling her back against her chest. "Just stating facts."
Becca stood there in her underwear, a matching set she'd packed specifically for this possibility, deep green lace that she'd hoped someone might see. She was suddenly, intensely glad she'd made that choice.
"Now you," she said, turning in Margot's arms.
Margot was still in her bridesmaid dress, the blush fabric slightly rumpled from dancing.
Becca found the zipper and drew it down just as slowly, pressing kisses to each inch of skin as it appeared.
Margot's back was smooth and pale, and Becca couldn't resist dragging her tongue along the bumps of her spine.
Margot gasped. "That's—"
"Good?"
"Very good."
The dress fell away. Margot was wearing white lace underneath, elegant and understated, perfectly Margot. Becca turned her around and just looked, drinking in the sight of her.
"You're staring," Margot said.
"No one would blame me. You're stunning."
"You said that yesterday."
"It's still true today." Becca reached out and traced a finger along the edge of Margot's bra, watching goosebumps rise in her wake. "Can I take this off?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
They undressed each other the rest of the way with unhurried hands: unclasping bras, sliding off underwear, revealing each other fully. Becca had seen Margot naked yesterday, but this felt different. More intentional. Like they were choosing to be vulnerable rather than falling into it.
They made their way to the bed without hurrying. Lay down facing each other, legs tangled, breathing the same air. The moonlight through the curtains painted Margot in silver and shadow.
"I want to remember this," Becca whispered. "Every second. I don't want to rush."
"Then we won't." Margot reached out and tucked a curl behind Becca's ear. "We have all night."
"All night." Becca smiled. "I like the sound of that."
She leaned in and kissed Margot, soft at first, exploratory, like they were learning each other for the first time. Margot's mouth opened against hers, warm and welcoming, and Becca lost herself in the taste of her. Champagne and something sweeter underneath.
They kissed and kissed, hands roaming but unhurried. Becca mapped the planes of Margot's body: the sharp jut of her hipbones, the soft curve of her waist fitting perfectly in Becca's hands.
"You're staring," Margot said.
"Memorizing." Becca pressed a kiss to the spot where Margot's ribs met her stomach. "You're beautiful."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
Margot retaliated by rolling them over, settling on top of Becca with a grace that took her breath away. From this angle, Margot was all sharp lines and soft shadows, her hair falling around them like a veil.
"Who's cute now?" Margot asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Still you." Becca reached up and pulled her down into another kiss. "Always you."
Margot kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until Becca was writhing beneath her.
Then she started working her way down, kissing Becca's jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat.
She paused at Becca's breasts, studying them with an expression of intense concentration before lowering her mouth to one nipple.
She sucked gently at first, then harder when Becca's back arched off the bed.
"Oh god—yes, like that—"
Margot alternated between her breasts, giving each equal attention while her hands explored lower. Her fingers traced patterns on Becca's stomach, her hips, the tops of her thighs. She was taking her time, building the anticipation until Becca thought she might combust from the wanting.
"Margot…" Becca's voice came out ragged. "Please…"
Margot looked up, her expression set. Determined. Like she'd made a decision.
"I want to try something," she said quietly. "Tell me if it's good."
She kissed down Becca's stomach, slow and deliberate, and Becca's heart hammered when she realized where Margot was headed. Yesterday, Margot had stayed close, used her hands. This was different. This was Margot choosing to go further, and the significance of it made Becca's chest ache.
Margot settled between her legs and pressed her mouth to Becca's inner thigh first. Testing. Her breath was warm and unsteady.
"You don't have to—"