Sixteen #2
“You didn’t make a mistake because you failed to do some kind of math homework on the rest of your life.
You made a mistake because you did what you thought you were supposed to do, what society said you were supposed to do.
You were young and inexperienced and oblivious.
You’re none of those things anymore, and all cougar jokes aside, neither is Tegan. ”
“A fact she’s pointed out to me many times.”
“Good for her,” Gillian continued. “You’ve both done the work. You know yourself, and we’ve analyzed this relationship within an inch of all our lives, but at the end of the day, no one else’s expectations or rules or best practices matter more than what you know is right.”
“I don’t know—”
“You do,” Gillian said flatly. “Cut the crap. We’re not at work. You don’t need to journal or meditate or take five deep breaths. You already slipped and used the w-word.”
Brooke closed her eyes, and her lips curled up as a wash of peace came over her features.
Gillian got the strange sense she was seeing a mirror of herself after she’d kissed Daphne, and she was hit with an unexpected wave of intimacy, along with perhaps a hint of envy, because Brooke clearly had all her answers.
As blue eyes fluttered open, it was clear they may not be the answers Gillian would’ve chosen or the “right” answers by any outside measure, but they didn’t have to be. They were the right answers for her.
“You know what you want,” Gillian said softly.
“Yes.” Brooke cheeks flushed as she said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to put a ring on her finger and wear a white dress and spend nights cuddling by the fire. I want a baby with her eyes in the world. I want to push swings and strollers in Delaware Park and take too many pictures of a little girl with golden hair in a dance recital.”
“Could be a little boy with golden hair in a T-ball uniform, or a little girl in a T-ball uniform for that matter.”
Brooke laughed. “Then I want Aunt Gillian to coach the team while I sit under an umbrella and cheer with their other mom holding my hand.”
Gillian nodded. “I guess you better start looking at rings then, and not because you’re running out of time, but because when you know something that beautiful, nobody else’s truth matters … well, except for Tegan’s.”
Brooke smiled.
Gillian realized she wanted more of that kind of openness and nearly blurted out, “I kissed Daphne.”
She caught herself only at the last second, and not because she didn’t want to talk about it. Suddenly, she very much did, as though watching Brooke’s hope and bravery had sparked something new and stirring in her, too. It just felt wrong to say that to Brooke before she said it to Daphne.
“It’s not enough time. We’re going to be late,” Izzy said for about the fifth time in the ten minutes it had taken them to reach the office.
Daphne sighed, unable to defend against the charge. She’d double-booked herself.
Again.
Sure, this time she could’ve pointed out that Izzy had gotten herself moved up to a higher-level fencing group that met at a different time on a different night, after Daphne had already booked this appointment.
She also might’ve mentioned this was supposed to be Hugh’s week, and Izzy could instead choose to take her frustration out on his unexpected client meeting, but what good would it do?
The parent in sight was always the parent in the line of fire, and trying to get a new business off the ground meant little to a preteen trying to get a social life off the ground with the same fervor.
Plus, Daphne had agreed to switch weeks without checking the family schedule.
And she could’ve called around to other parents if she’d recognized the conflict sooner, which she hadn’t because she’d been even more distracted than usual ever since kissing Gillian in that stupid experiment.
As if recognizing her cosmic cue, Gillian breezed into the waiting room, looking every bit like a woman who’d never faced a scheduling conflict in her life.
This had been so much easier when Daphne’d hated her. How she wanted to mock her perfectly pressed slacks and lightweight cream sweater under a herringbone blazer. Who even owned an outfit like that, much less managed to make it to five o’clock without putting a single wrinkle in it?
Gillian smiled broadly when she noticed them, which only made Daphne feel worse. She hated being genuinely welcomed while she was already mentally trying to take her down a peg.
“Good evening, you two. Do you constantly hear how much you look alike?”
Daphne forced a smile, but Izzy openly rolled her eyes.
Gillian read the tone, because she’d have to be an idiot not to. “Uh-oh. Rough day? Is it something a little math homework couldn’t fix?”
Izzy dropped her backpack dramatically. “I guess I’ll have plenty of time, because my mom scheduled a client during my fencing lesson.”
“I already had a client scheduled, and it’s only a ten-minute overlap.”
“If I miss the warm-up, I might as well miss the whole thing.” Izzy whimpered and looked to Gillian for support. “It’s only a fifty-minute lesson.”
“Ah, 20 percent. I do see where that’s fractionally a large portion of a lesson.”
“It’s ten minutes,” Daphne snapped. “Ten minutes of a weeknight practice of an extracurricular activity for a sport you don’t even compete in yet, but sure, let’s make it about fractions, because math is much easier than dealing with big emotions or perfectionism or grace, or the fact that sometimes in life we have to deal with discomfort.
In the grand scheme of things, being late ranks pretty low in the end-of-the-world department. ”
Both Gillian and Izzy froze, eyes wide, nearly identical stricken expressions on their faces, as if the idea of nonchalance about tardiness short-circuited their ability to process a response.
Daphne clenched her jaw and shook her head, but the frustration still coursed through her veins with disconcerting ferocity.
She was so much angrier than the situation called for.
Her kid was being a normal preteen, and they were facing normal family scheduling issues, but somehow having Gillian there made her madder.
Did she always have to serve as such a fucking contrast to Daphne’s discord?
Maybe Daphne could’ve looked like less of a disaster if not for the comparison.
Gillian was always right there to serve as some yardstick by which all other women could be measured, always perfect, always put together, and even when she wasn’t lately, she’d still managed to be captivating.
The very few times she’d been a mess or not had a quick comeback, she’d still been so fucking earnest and endearing, whereas Daphne’s upheaval only made her look disheveled.
“It does sound like conflict worth giving some reflection to,” Gillian finally said in that professional tone she so often called on when Daphne was falling part. “And I’m sure three intelligent and committed women can find a solution to uphold multiple values simultaneously.”
Izzy stared at Gillian with hope in her big dark eyes, but Daphne merely grumbled, “Are you kidding me?”
She hated that this woman had kissed her and didn’t seem remotely affected by the experience, then or now.
She hated how her daughter looked up to her with unabashed faith.
She hated the way Gillian got to stay calm and reasonable even though she had no stake in the situation worth sweating over in the first place.
And she hated that she got to swoop in and save the day, which is, of course, what she was about to do.
Daphne saw it coming before Gillian even parted those soft and skilled lips of hers.
“I’m free for the next hour,” Gillian said breezily, “and I think a fencing lesson sounds fascinating. I’d actually love it if you’d let me horn in on the experience by taking Izzy while you’re in your session. I can bring her back here when she’s done.”
“She’s going to a friend’s house for an hour after fencing to work on a group project. All you’d have to do is drop her off.” Daphne dodged the meat of the offer, focusing on logistics rather than the gratitude she wasn’t yet able to summon.
“You could stay and watch me fence, though, if you want,” Izzy said quickly.