24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rosalie awoke to soft lips on her shoulder and smiled even before she opened her eyes. A warm body pressed against hers, the room cold, early morning light spilling in around the blinds. The kiss moved up the nape of her neck and she arched in pleasure, soon finding herself getting slowly, deliciously fucked, still spooned tight from behind in Kinsey's arms.

Afterward, Rosalie slipped down beneath the sheets, pressing in between Kinsey's thighs, listening to the sound of her breath changing. As Kinsey's moans became gasps, Rosalie threw the blankets off altogether to watch her body arch like a bow as Kinsey came against her mouth.

"I finally got you to spend a whole night with me," Rosalie said as she slipped back up, covering Kinsey's body with her own. Kinsey gasped, trying to recover her breath.

"I have no idea what I was thinking." Kinsey's chest rose and fell rapidly, pulling the sheets back over them both. "Something, something, boundaries, blah." She bit her lip, fingers trailing up Rosalie's spine. "When all this time, I should have been thinking about morning sex with you."

They tried to shower together, Rosalie grateful for her infinite hot water system, as Kinsey's hot wet body pressed her into the shower tiles, firm fingers fucking her where she stood, until her legs went weak with pleasure.

Finally, somewhat dressed, they made it out into the kitchen in search of caffeine and breakfast. Rosalie filled the coffee maker as Kinsey explored her living room, inspecting her books and her view.

"Oh my god," Kinsey gasped. "What is that?"

Lemonade had appeared in the doorway to glare at Kinsey. He'd made himself absent the night before, though out of clear irritation at the violation of his space rather than any kind of tact.

"That's Lemonade," Rosalie said. He'd been a noisy background to their phone conversations more than once. Kinsey raised her brows.

"You told me you had a cat," she said, "not a literal mountain lion."

Rosalie laughed. He gave Kinsey a filthy look and stalked over to wrap around his human's ankles in a clear demonstration of ownership. Kinsey looked down in faint horror at the giant mess of Maine Coon, the half ginger mane, the weird blotches of tabby, the extra toes, the crooked tail and two different colored eyes.

"Why Lemonade?" She looked incredulous.

"When life gives you lemons." Rosalie shrugged, and Kinsey snickered. She walked over for her coffee, bravely skirting the huge, annoyed feline to press Rosalie back into the counter and kiss her.

"What would possibly possess you to take in such a creature?"

"Well," Rosalie said, "he needed me."

Kinsey gazed at her, eyes warm, something sweet flickering in their depths.

"You're an interesting contradiction, Rosalie Carlson ." Her mouth quirked as she leaned on the counter, sipping her coffee. "Sometimes you like to be needed, other times it terrifies you."

"Do you always psychoanalyze your conquests first thing in the morning?" Rosalie sidestepped the observation with raised eyebrows.

"No," she said. "Just the really hot, frustrating ones."

She put her coffee back down and pulled Rosalie in to kiss her neck. Somewhere, somehow, in all of it, Rosalie's jeans got unzipped and the conversation stuttered to a halt, both breakfast and her commitment issues forgotten as she melted under Kinsey's fingers all over again.

They made pancakes half-naked, drank coffee tangled up in each other's bodies on the couch, talked while making out and made out while talking. Kinsey went home in the afternoon to get dressed for dinner and something sharp flared in Rosalie's chest, deeper than longing, scarier than desire or affection. Something she absolutely didn't want to analyze. But even as she tried to go about her day, trying not to focus on the nagging fact that in less than twenty-four hours Kinsey would leave again for two whole months, the flare in her chest sharpened.

Kinsey had booked the kind of place only someone with a new and obscene amount of money could wrangle last minute on a Saturday night, but Rosalie could hardly bring herself to care. A street pizza joint would've tasted the same. All that mattered was the woman sitting opposite her, and the heady look in her eyes.

"I don't think anyone has ever made me wait five months before agreeing to go on a date with me," Kinsey said as they ate dessert.

"It's probably good for you, I suspect." Rosalie smiled as she licked cream off her spoon, Kinsey shooting her a glare. "Does it feel different to you now we've eaten food together that requires three different forks?"

"Does it feel different to you," Kinsey asked, "now that you've been seen with me in public and the sky hasn't fallen down? Should I tell the waiter I'm eleven years younger than you just in case they care?"

"Our waitress has been staring at you all night like you're her literal wet dream, so I'd suggest not." Rosalie raised one suggestive brow. "Unless you're in the market for yet another groupie."

"I'm really, really not," Kinsey said, her voice low and serious.

Rosalie's chest went a little tight. It was what she wanted to hear, and yet hearing it was also kind of terrifying.

"Are we done here?" she asked, quickly shifting the conversation to safer ground. "It's not that I'm not appreciating the amazing food but all I can think about is having you naked again."

Kinsey let go of her spoon, something flickering in her eyes. Rosalie leaned over the table toward her, knowing even before Kinsey did, exactly where her gaze was going to land. When Kinsey managed to jerk her eyes back up, Rosalie let her lips part softly. "Please? I need you now ."

Within seconds of Kinsey's gesture, the waitress was there, ready with the bill.

They barely made it in the front door.

"God," Kinsey gasped, sometime in the early hours of the morning, "I've never wanted someone the way I want you."

Their bodies were already tightly intertwined but Rosalie pulled her in closer, unable to get enough.

"Me either." Rosalie's voice was low and cracking, like a confession. She felt hazy, lost. "I've never wanted someone this way, either."

"And what way's that?" Kinsey's eyes were dark as she tugged back in the dim light of the bedroom.

Rosalie felt dizzy.

"All of them," she whispered, her heart hammering in her ears. "All the ways."

Kinsey melted into her and kissed her fiercely. Rosalie's heart rate didn't slow down, even as she kissed her back.

When she woke there were no arms around her. The bed was empty. Cold. For a moment she lay there, disoriented. Had she misunderstood when Kinsey was leaving? A small shard of ice entered her heart.

She got up, pulling on a t-shirt and underwear. Entering her living room she smelled coffee and saw Kinsey sitting up on the couch facing out over the yard, her phone in her hand, texting.

"Hey," she said, trying not to frown.

Kinsey turned, putting down her phone and smiling at her.

"Hey," she said, as Rosalie came over. "You were dead asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

Rosalie sat next to her, stealing a sip of her coffee. She didn't want to wonder who Kinsey was out here texting; that would be stupid and insecure. She'd be out on the road shortly anyway, talking to whoever she wanted. Rosalie's eyes flicked to the phone despite herself. Kinsey noticed.

"Cassidy," she said. "Tour logistics."

Rosalie tried not to flush. Kinsey pulled her in against her body and Rosalie let her head fall on her shoulder. She inhaled the scent of Kinsey's body. She smelled sweet and citrusy. Rosalie let her lips find her neck, then Kinsey turned and kissed her.

"Now that you're awake…" her mouth quirked. She stood up, took Rosalie's hand and pulled her back to bed.

For the next hour Rosalie thought of nothing but Kinsey's mouth, her hands, her fingers, her body, her sighs, her kiss. But when they finally made it back to the kitchen to make breakfast Kinsey wandered away to tap a couple of messages on her phone again.

"Is Cassidy annoyed at you for skipping out on celebrating together?" Rosalie asked eventually.

Kinsey looked up.

"No, she's far too busy giving me grief for what I'm up to instead." She smiled. At Rosalie's startled expression, she rolled her eyes. "She knows there's someone , but she just doesn't know it's you."

"Right." Rosalie struggled hard to keep the stab of awkwardness show. Was that a trace of disappointment in Kinsey's exhale?

"We've been sharing a room the entire tour; it's not like she wouldn't know why I'm always on my phone," Kinsey pointed out.

"Oh," said Rosalie. "I didn't realize you were sleeping in the same room every night."

She hadn't known Kinsey had to sneak off to speak with her for hours in the middle of the night. She was just about to nag her about her safety when Kinsey turned noticeably pink.

"Why are you blushing?" she asked, somewhere between amused and confused. Kinsey flushed even harder.

"I'm not." Kinsey turned away immediately to top up her coffee. An alarm bell sounded somewhere deep in Rosalie's brain. She thought of Cassidy, heartbroken and recently single. Looking very much like a young Savannah Grace and sharing a room with someone who looked like Kinsey. Sharing a bed?

"Kinsey," she said, trying to keep her voice light. "You and Cassidy-"

"Oh my god. No!" Kinsey whirled around, her forehead slightly furrowed. "We're just friends."

"Okay," Rosalie said. Her voice came out even but her fingers squeezed tight around her cup. She and Savannah had only ever been friends after all.

"Shit," Kinsey said, her shoulders slumping as she put down her coffee. "I'm sorry. My ex was kind of jealous. I get a bit weird when I feel like someone is trying to monitor me."

"I'm not monitoring you." Rosalie's jaw got tight. Kinsey was sneaking around texting, blushing, getting defensive, and yet Rosalie was the one in the wrong?

"I know." Kinsey tugged her in. "I'm sorry." She leaned in for a kiss and Rosalie let her, but she had a weird sense that she was being…managed somehow. "Let's just enjoy our last morning together," Kinsey murmured, kissing her again, and Rosalie went cold.

Last morning together? Had she misunderstood this? Was this just another fling between them, as far as Kinsey was concerned? Was taking her to dinner just a way to make a point? To win? She wanted to ask but suddenly, in the context of Kinsey being about to hit the road with her extremely beautiful and age-appropriate best friend, her voice stopped working. Her heart retreated in her chest, hiding behind her ribs.

They ate together on the couch, their conversation suddenly, strangely surface-level as Rosalie battled not to let her thoughts spiral.

"Your house is much fancier than I would have imagined for someone who's spent their life working for a non-profit," Kinsey said, a tease in her voice.

"You've met Savannah," Rosalie said. "Does she seem like someone who'd have a grasp on normal salaries?" Kinsey laughed. "I told her from the beginning she was being way over the top, but she's pigheaded as well as generous."

"When did you buy this place?" Kinsey asked.

Rosalie thought back. "Ten years ago."

"Hm," Kinsey said, thoughtfully.

"What?"

"I just realized I can buy a house now too," she smiled at Rosalie. She looked a little daydreamy. Something clenched in Rosalie's abdomen. She hoped Kinsey wasn't imagining the two of them picking out decor together. Rosalie was so, undeniably, into this woman, but she wasn't good at domestic life. Kinsey appeared pretty independent but then again, lesbians never could seem to help themselves. Was that why she was asking about Rosalie's income and real estate choices? Was she already fast forwarding to the two of them cohabiting? No. Calm down, Rosalie. God.

"That's exciting," she said, trying to smile even as her heart raced like prey. "I love this place, I don't think I'll ever sell it."

Kinsey cocked her head. "No," she said. "It's lovely. You should definitely keep hold of it."

"I will," Rosalie said quickly.

Silence stretched between them.

Kinsey put her plate down on the coffee table and turned to face her. "Are you having some kind of freak out?"

"What? No." Rosalie pushed her plate away too. She picked up her coffee, sipping like she was dying of thirst.

"Oh my god, you are ." Kinsey's eyebrows went sky high. "I'm not… asking you to move in with me. Is that what you're thinking?"

"No!" Rosalie's voice went high. "I'm just… I'm not the moving in type, is all. I should be up front about that."

Kinsey shifted forward on the couch, a frown growing. "We're not even officially dating and you're worried about me trying to move in with you?"

A confused pang hit Rosalie. So they weren't dating.

"I'm clearly not if we're not even dating," she said, defensively.

"Well, no wonder, if you think dating means I'm going to u-haul you the second you say the word. Come on Rosalie, I'm a little more chill than that. Give me some credit here."

"Do you want children?" The words fell out her mouth before she could stop them. Kinsey's eyes went wide.

"Oh, wow," she said, shifting on the couch, swiveling her whole body around to stare at her. "We're really doing this? Okay. I mean, this might be literally the gayest conversation anyone has ever had - let's decide if we're having kids before we even actually date - but no, I don't want kids. Is that essential knowledge before we do something drastic, like, say we'll keep sleeping together in secret?"

Rosalie swallowed. Kinsey's eyes had a fire to them she hadn't seen before, her normally languid body rigid with tension. Rosalie wanted, with everything she had, to unwind this moment, to take them back to laughter and kisses in tangled sheets. The problem was, Rosalie was dead serious.

"It's just tricky," she said, "because you're so young. It might sound stupid to you, but I worry about dating someone who still might change their mind about that kind of stuff."

"And you might change your mind and decide you want to be a damn astronaut and make us move to Houston in three years' time," Kinsey bit back. "I'm not going to not date you over theoretical future situations that might not happen."

Rosalie huffed a frustrated breath. Kinsey scrunched her fingers through her hair, squinting at her in pure disbelief.

"Rosalie. I told my best friend when we were like, nineteen, that if I ever decided to start sleeping with men, I'd get my tubes tied just to be sure. I love kids, but I absolutely don't want them. They're not compatible with the life I want. I've always just wanted to tour."

"And how do you see that working with a relationship?" Rosalie jumped in. All she could see now was Cassidy lying in bed next to Kinsey, those Savannah Grace eyes of hers, low-lashed, deciding to reach out and take what she wanted.

"I can't win, can I?" Kinsey cried. "I'm either crowding you by trying to theoretically move in with you, or I'm too unavailable because I'm on the road, or I'm too young because I might change my mind about things." She took a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping. "Let's just call this conversation what it is: you trying to find a reason not to be with me."

"Kinsey." Something in Rosalie cracked. "No. Please-"

"I feel so stupid." Kinsey slowly got to her feet, her cheeks flaming. "I thought that something was growing here," she gestured between the two of them, "but now I can see that it never will because you won't let it."

There were tears sparkling in her eyes. Rosalie sat frozen on the couch as Kinsey stalked around, grabbing her things, shoving her feet into her shoes, and shrugging on her jacket.

"Please, can we talk about this?" Rosalie's voice sounded weak. This was happening too fast. She wasn't even sure how it was happening or what to say to make it stop.

"Oh, Rosalie," Kinsey looked heartbroken. "Talking isn't going to fix this problem. If I thought it would, I'd talk all night." She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip to stop the quiver. "You know, I would have taken this as slow as you wanted," she said. "But I already know we would have been fucking great together. It's going to be one of the greatest disappointments of my life that you couldn't see that."

"Listen-" Rosalie rose from the couch. Her words faltered. She felt overwhelmed, unsure where to start.

"No." Kinsey held up her hand. "I need you to understand. This one is going to fucking hurt." A tear spilled down her cheek. "I can't keep seeing you. I can't keep on talking to you. I need to get some self-control here. I'm going to have to just… block your number, and say goodbye properly."

"Kinsey-" Rosalie took a step towards her. This couldn't happen like this. She reached for her but Kinsey moved out of her grasp. She shook her head, firmly. Her eyes were miserable.

"Goodbye, Rosalie." Her voice was so quiet Rosalie almost missed it.

Rosalie watched as Kinsey walked out the door and left her, this time for good.

On Monday morning Rosalie called in sick from work. She hadn't done that more than twice in thirteen years. Once when she'd tested positive for covid, once for a flu so bad she'd laid bedridden for a week. Both of those days felt like highlights compared with today.

At just after 10AM, a ferocious banging rattled her front door. Rosalie winced. This was not the day for some overzealous courier or annoyed neighbor to get some bee in their bonnet. She pulled the covers over her head and willed them away. A couple of minutes later she heard a key in the lock and pushed back the covers in alarm.

"Rosalie Carlson, I swear to god !" Savannah's voice echoed up the stairs, her heels clicking angrily down the hall toward her.

"What the hell, Savannah?" Rosalie sat bolt upright in bed as her best friend stormed into her bedroom. "Did you literally just raid my garden for the emergency key?"

"Oh, is this not an emergency?" Savannah shot her a solid glare before walking over and snapping open her blinds, making her blink uncomfortably as the brilliant sunlight spilled in. "I just said goodbye to Cassie, at the tour bus," she said sharply, her blond hair haloed in the light, "along with her best friend. Who last I saw was on her way to your door to celebrate her record deal with the woman she's clearly wild about, and yet this morning she looked like she'd been thoroughly chewed up and spat out."

Savannah plonked down on Rosalie's bed, narrowly missing her legs. "What. Happened?"

"Savannah," she sighed. "I don't want to talk-"

"Oh, we're talking about it," Savannah said fiercely. "We are fucking talking about this and then we're fixing it."

Rosalie's head spun. Savannah's solid belief that this could be fixed seemed impressively delusional. And yet, a tiny flare of warmth arose in her chest. There was still one person in the world then, who didn't share Rosalie's belief that she was irrevocably fucked up.

"Can I have a coffee first?" Her voice came out small.

An hour later, sitting side by side on the couch - Savannah in a four-thousand-dollar dress and Rosalie in flannel pajamas - they sighed in unison.

"Well," said Savannah, shifting to face her, "it's officially happening. I am going to force you into therapy at gunpoint if I have to."

Rosalie shook her head, wearily.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Savannah's eyes went wide. "You're not going to make me wrestle you for it? Or have my security literally pick you up and carry you there?"

"No," Rosalie said quietly. "I want to."

Savannah gaped.

"Two decades of me busting my ass and some twenty-six-year-old swans in, bats her eyelashes, and makes you want to go to therapy?"

Rosalie snorted a small laugh. Savannah looked genuinely offended.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I guess so."