“I need to be face-to-face with you,” Sadie said softly, “when I tell you this.”
This close, Anne could see a stubborn teardrop still clinging to one of Sadie’s lashes. Warmth radiated from Sadie’s frame, and so did the good, clean scent of lavender. She always liked to crush sprigs in her hands when stressed and kept some in her bags to calm herself down in emergencies.
“Sadie.” Anne was a little breathless.
“Listen.” Sadie leaned in and pressed the palms of both hands against Anne’s temples, fingers tracking loosely, slowly, through her hair.
At her touch, a shock snapped between them.
Sadie’s eyes widened.
And just like that, Anne went immediately hollow, then needy. Her body wasn’t her own anymore, and it was somehow more her own than it had ever been.
“Can I kiss you first?” Sadie murmured. “I understand if you don’t want—”
“I need to,” Anne got out at the same time. “I need it, please, just one—”
They kissed, slack and urgent. Sadie sighed a little into Anne’s softening mouth and pressed forward.
Anne couldn’t let herself reach up to grab her, wouldn’t push this into something Sadie wasn’t ready for it to be. She forced her hands to stay at her side, tilted her head up, drank in Sadie likesomeone dehydrated—like a woman in the desert. Dizzying need spiraled through her. Sadie’s hands could shape anything, even Anne, into poetry.
Loud footsteps right above them.
Somehow, they jerked apart, both breathing hard.
“One week,” Sadie said thickly.
Anne was so preoccupied with trying to remember how to be a person who wasn’t kissing Sadie, a person with a functioning brain, that, at first, the words didn’t make sense. “What?”
“Six days, really. Next Sunday.”
“What?” Sadie’s breasts wereright there. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble—”
“I know,” Sadie said quietly. “You’re not the only one. But we don’t have much time before the kids come down, and I have to say this to you. Try and focus, sweetheart. You can do it.”
With great effort, Anne focused. The tide of need receded just enough.
“I’m flying out first thing tomorrow morning for the Barnard visit. And I still think it’s a good idea for me to stay in the city for a few days more, at Sam’s. The time away should help me start to sort out some things. Decide what I’m ready for. And you’ll be able to think, too. But I promise—I’ll be home for Brooke’s Mother’s Day party. Sunday. We can talk then. Is that all right? Six days?”
Quite honestly, the timetable Anne would prefer was along the lines of however long it took to speed walk between this living room and the tiny house, where they could close the front door and fuck in the eighteen-inch space between the oven and the bathroom. But even through her overwhelm, she heard Sadie, who was clearly trying her best to communicate.
To be brave.
For Sadie, Anne Lowellcoulddo half measures.
She reached out and touched Sadie’s cheek, stroking lightly with the tips of her fingers. The inside of Sadie’s thighs—were they smooth like this?
Sadie’s eyes fluttered.
“Sunday.” Anne pulled back her hand. “I can handle that.”
“Wonderful.” The smile Sadie gave her was small and so relieved. “All right. One more thing before I—” She shoved one hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Anne’s note. The one she’d left for Sadie just ten minutes earlier.
As Sadie struggled up to her feet, Anne sat back, not sure what was happening.
“Just a moment,” Sadie said, holding up her pointer finger. “Back in a flash.” She dashed off in the direction of the kitchen.