Chapter Thirty-Four

Loncey

My arms are empty when I wake up. They weren't empty a few hours ago. I know because I woke as a pinky-gray dawn light was filling the room and I saw it dance off Maeve's cheeks. I watched more of her come into view as my nose nuzzled against her bonnet, her back pressed against my chest and her feet lined up along my shins. I don't know how she got there, if I reached for her or if she tucked herself into me, but I couldn't stop smiling as I stayed completely still in that early morning light, and at some point, let sleep come for me again.

As the warm comfort of this memory starts to fade, it makes way for an ice-cold thought. Has she gone? Has she left me without saying goodbye?

I push the covers away and stand up. Looking around the room, I see the silk bonnet she was wearing resting on the pillow, slightly folded like it was very deliberately placed there.

She's gone. She's left. My stomach plummets.

"Fuck."

I rub my face and then check my phone, hoping more than is rational to see a message from Maeve, an explanation. But there's nothing but a small barrage of notifications from people who don't matter, not in this moment. There's also the time. 9:06. Shit, I really slept in.

Another pressing thought surfaces. Jessica.

She'll need to start her morning IV, will need some food, and then soon her first vest session. But first and foremost, I need to check she's okay.

That has me rushing out of the cabin and across the yard to the kitchen door, and I only realize what I'm wearing – a pink satin camisole and matching lace-trimmed French knickers – when I'm pushing open the door. But I don't care. Jessica is more important. I should have checked on her hours ago, especially as I bet Taylor's already gone to work.

"Jessi—" I call out as I open the door but I'm cut short when a blast of music and women's voices fill my ears. I step inside the kitchen and see movement, and I smell the sweet, warm scent of pancakes.

"Loncey!" Maeve's voice calls out. "You're awake!"

I look over at Maeve who is standing just beyond the island in my mother's kitchen, dancing. Dancing with Jessica who is holding onto an IV pole with one hand and has Maeve's fingers in her other. They're dancing to Right Here by SWV, which is playing loudly in the room, and that's when I see what Maeve's other arm is holding. Prince, Jessica's dog.

"What...?" I begin, but then I feel a body brush against my arm.

"Just enjoy it," my mother says into my ear, coming up on her toes to do so.

So I do.

*****

An hour later, my stomach is full of Mom's sweet potato and cinnamon pancakes and my heart is full after witnessing Jessica and Maeve talk at great length about fashion, about a handful of influencers I've never heard of, and more interestingly about romance novels.

"You have to read this one." Maeve holds up her phone to Jessica. "It's sapphic. It's so chaotic. And has the most swoon-worthy HEA. It's also friends to lovers, like you and Taylor."

My sister blushes and it surprises me when I find my smile deepening. My mom gets up and starts to clear plates, kissing Jessica's head as she does.

"You read romance novels?" I ask Maeve as gently as I can, while taking a sip of coffee. "Sapphic romance novels?"

Maeve gives me a disingenuous look. "Sure I do. I mean, this time last year, I thought I was a lesbian so, you know. I was doing my research."

"But you're not a lesbian?" Jessica asks.

"Nah," Maeve shrugs, "I'm asexual. Rookie mistake to make, apparently."

Jessica scrunches up her nose in the way she always does when she's thinking about something.

"So, if you're asexual, how does that work with romance novels? I mean, like, the spicy ones?"

Maeve's expression doesn't change as she replies, "Well, firstly, sexual and romantic feelings are two very different things, and while I don't feel sexual attraction, I do think I can develop a romantic attraction." She clears her throat and dips her gaze. "At least, I think so." Her eyes lift again and sparkle a little as they land on my sister once more. "But more importantly, remember that the people in smutty romance books are fictional so in some ways it doesn't make me any less asexual if I feel some kind of sexual attraction to them. Not that I do. I just like happy endings, I guess. I should go help your ma wash up." After mumbling her way through that short monologue, Maeve stands but I reach over and hold her wrist to still her.

"I'll do it," I say. "Why don't you and Jess get comfy on the couch and talk more about all this stuff?"

"I'd love to." Maeve flashes my sister a smile. "But I should also be getting back to my hotel. I'm rubbish at packing and I hate being rushed so want to make sure I have enough time."

"Yeah, of course," I say, lifting my hand. "If you want to go take a shower in the cabin, I'll drive you back whenever you're ready."

"You don't have to," Maeve says, her voice quiet. "I can easily get a taxi."

"I don't want you to get a taxi, Maeve," I tell her, and I sound sterner than I expect even though I do want to get the point home.

"Let them drive you," Jessica says as she slowly pushes to stand up and Prince immediately moves to be at her ankles. "It will give me a break from them because I can see they're itching to put their nurse's outfit on and not leave me alone today."

I give my sister a look. I had changed out of my sleepwear before we sat down to breakfast, so I know this isn't a dig at what I'm wearing, more about my behavior around her. And there's a reason why I don't contest her.

"Well, if you're sure." Maeve pushes her chair in. "I'll go get ready."

Both Jessica and I watch Maeve leave.

"Aromantic, my ass!" Jessica says the second the kitchen door clicks shut.

My head swings to her. "What does that mean?"

"That means I think you have feelings for Maeve. Very romantic feelings."

"Yeah, I have feelings for Maeve, but they're not romantic."

Jessica swallows a laugh that makes her cough. "Sure, Loncey, sure."

I open my mouth to argue more but I don't have the energy. Specifically, I don't have the energy to try and find the right words. Because the truth is, I don't know if what I feel for Maeve is romantic or not. I know I'm attracted to her, and I know enough to also be mindful that there are so many different ways people experience attraction. But for some reason, I don't seem able to identify what I feel for Maeve, or what it means for my hard-fought understanding of myself.

"You know, it's okay for these things to change," Jessica says as she turns to walk toward the living room. She's off the IV now so able to move around freely, if very slowly. "Our ability to change, to evolve, is what makes us human."

I snort. "What self-help book did you read that in?"

"I didn't." She looks back at me. "You taught me that."

"I've literally never said that to you."

"No, but I've watched it happen. I've watched you embody that. I've watched you change many times over the years, watched you evolve into somebody I'm proud to call my sibling."

"I'm proud of you too," I say, pleased I can get the words out around the sudden lump in my throat.

"But this evolution." She nods at the kitchen window, at the cabin across the yard. "This is my favorite evolution so far."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Watching you fall in love," she says, and with a tap on her thigh for Prince's benefit, she continues walking away.

*****

We are mostly silent on the drive to Maeve's hotel.

Occasionally, I glance over and see her eyes taking in the streets we drive down, but I can sense what she sees isn't what fills her mind. I'm still wondering what she's thinking about as we finally drive onto the Strip and the buildings get bigger, the sidewalks busier and more traffic appears.

Me, I'm silent because I'm lost in my thoughts. Thinking about what my sister said, yes, but more than that, thinking about last night. About kissing Maeve. About holding Maeve. About sleeping next to Maeve. About filling my cabin with laughter with Maeve. Dammit, I even spend a solid ten minutes thinking about how Maeve hummed to herself as she did her skincare, pausing only to tell me her very honest and a little bit scathing opinion about the products I have.

Am I romantically attracted to Maeve?

I ask myself this and two very distinct and different answers jump out at me.

Yes. And Jessica is right. You're falling in love with her.

And.

No. You're aromantic. You don't feel romantic attraction to people.

Sexual, yes. Platonic love, absolutely.

But what I feel for Maeve doesn't fit into either of those boxes. Or rather, it spills out of those boxes. I'm starting to think it would spill out of any box I tried to force it in.

This last realization has me squeezing my eyes shut as I briefly wince.

What the fuck am I trying to do? Trying to fit my feelings, my experiences into too-small, too-damn-restrictive boxes. I should know better than this. I should know that boxes and binaries are only there to hurt us.

While the reflecting I do on our journey helps me realize how reductive I'm being when it comes to analyzing my feelings for Maeve, it doesn't help me figure out what to do next. What to do after Maeve leaves today.

Do I want to ignore what I feel? Do I want to pretend those hour-long kisses weren't atom-changing? Do I want to just go back to us slinging snarky DMs at each other across the Atlantic?

Would it not just be easier to let whatever this is fizzle out? To let Maeve go so she can find someone capable of the true romance she so deserves?

Wouldn't it be easier for me to go back to the life I've crafted for myself with my work, my mentoring, my taking care of Jessica? Because the fact remains, Maeve lives on the other side of the world so even if my feelings for her are real, I can't leave Vegas. I can't leave Jessica.

"Just pull up in the driveway, yeah?" Maeve unclicks her seatbelt as I turn off the Strip.

"Okay," I say and I tell myself this is a good thing. If we have to say goodbye here in a busy courtyard where I'm not allowed to park for more than a few minutes, it can't get sad or heavy or emotional or unnecessarily drawn-out.

We can just say goodbye and both move on with our lives. I'll forget about how her hair smells like candied apples. I'll forget how perfect she looked dancing in my kitchen with my little sister. I'll forget how much I want her to cover my body in glitter. And I'll forget about that kiss.

I kill the engine.

"Loncey," Maeve turns in her seat toward me, but she has a hand on the door, "thank you."

I blink. "What for?"

"For a lot of things, but mostly for that kiss. And all of last night." She looks down at her lap. "I didn't know it was possible for me to share a night like that with someone."

Share all your nights like that with me, a part of me yells, hollers, screams.

"You're welcome, Maeve," I say instead.

"I can," she swallows, and it looks like her next words pain her to speak them, "I can understand why you're so good at what you do. You make people feel very special when you're with them."

A boulder lands in my stomach, crashing straight through my diaphragm and making me feel very sick.

I reach out for the arm resting on her leg. "Last night," I say, but now I don't know what to say next. Maeve gifts me a few moments to gather the right words. "Last night was different for me too. It wasn't like… like what I do with other partners."

Maeve rolls her eyes but I notice her gaze returns to where my hand is holding her wrist. "Yeah, I know. No sex."

I squeeze my grip. "No, Maeve. It wasn't that. It was different because…"

And isn't this when I should just admit everything to her, and to myself. Isn't this the perfect moment to tell Maeve how I really feel? To tell her that the time I spend with her transcends any other interaction I've had with another human, intimate or otherwise. Isn't this the perfect moment to tell her that I think I'm falling in love with her?

"It was different because it was you," I say eventually.

Her eyes stay on mine for what feels like eternity and part of me starts to think that she's seen through me and she's staying still, staying silent to give me a chance to say more. To say how I really feel.

But I don't. There's so much happening inside me. So many questions, thoughts and feelings and not a single one feels reliable or solid enough to put out in the world. I don't want to share my confusion with Maeve. My confusion is my problem to solve, not hers.

"Okay, so," she says and then she smiles her smile she gives the camera and her social media followers, and I swear it snaps a piece off of my heart. Then she leans over the console and pecks me on the cheek.

"I'll see you around, Loncey. On the Internet, I guess," she says and before I can formulate a reply, she's out of the car and the loud slam of her door closing echoes in my ears.