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She escaped before the conversation could venture deeper into emotional territory. Back in her shared villa, she was disappointed to find it empty — no sign of Natalia.
Samantha wandered through the spacious rooms, peeking into the bedroom and out to the private patio just in case Natalia was tucked away working somewhere. But she was gone.
More disappointed than she expected to be, Samantha started the shower, letting the hot water work out the tension in her shoulders. She replayed her mother’s words in her head. And Blanca’s from months before. She didn’t think she’d been holding back from opening her heart.
The grief over losing her wife had nearly destroyed her. For so long after, she’d thrown herself into work and family as distractions. But she’d dated plenty too. Why was everyone ignoring that fact?
While she rinsed shampoo from her hair, she made a list of all the women she’d been out with over the last eight years. Women she’d brought around her family and friends — even if it wasn’t at something as significant as her parents’ anniversary event. Women that didn’t terrify and challenge and delight the way Natalia did, she admitted.
Natalia stirred feelings in her she’d thought were buried forever. Made her feel truly seen and desired. But it’s not like she was the one running from that. It was Natalia.
The idea of giving her heart to someone new was daunting. Like standing on the edge of a cliff, searching for the courage to jump and trust you’d land safely. But hadn’t she made it obvious that she was willing to try?
As the water cascaded over her, Sam knew everyone was wrong. She wasn’t the problem. She was open and ready and emotionally available. And not because Natalia was hard to catch, she decided with complete conviction despite the uncomfortable, undefinable ache in her belly.
CHAPTER 30
Tablet in hand, Natalia returned to the lobby in search of stronger Wi-Fi. She settled into a cushioned rattan chair in the corner, shifting to avoid a stray beam of dying sunlight filtering through the palm fronds overhead.
With a few taps, she pulled up the latest draft script from one of her mid-level show-runner clients. The project was a sapphic romance set in a quaint bookstore at the center of a small fictional town obsessed with Christmas. Natalia started reading from where she’d left off at the end of the first act, making notes as she went.
After the first few pages, Natalia was fighting an eye roll. The dialogue was cloyingly sweet, the meet-cute contrived. She appreciated the appetite for light-hearted lesbian love stories, but couldn’t relate to such saccharine romantic fantasies.
She powered through the remainder of the script, editing and commenting in her most diplomatic tone. Natalia recognized the value of these stories existing, even if the cardboard characters and unrealistic romances weren’t to her taste. After a lifetime of tortured period dramas with miserable endings as the only sapphic option, she was glad more variety was emerging.
Even if disappointment was more true to life than unconvincing happy endings. Love required more than batted eyelashes and shared longing glances. It demanded a vulnerability she wasn’t sure anyone possessed anymore. Certainly not anyone her age who’d had their trust shattered by reality.
Her thoughts drifted to her own complicated story with Samantha, so much messier than these scripted fantasies. What they had was undefined and risky, constantly shifting between fiery passion and cautious reserve.
But the irresistible pull between them wasn’t some unknowable love — it was lust. Simple brain chemistry. Nothing mysterious or unknowable. It was the most honest kind of interaction people could have. Open and obvious and free of lies.
Natalia was just submitting the last of her script notes when a cheerful voice broke her concentration.
“You must be the famous Natalia!”
Alarmed by a strange man knowing her name, Natalia’s defenses shot up like spikes dipped in poison.
“Maybe introduce us first, darling,” the second strange man said with a playful smile. “I’m Ty,” the man said, his skin dark against the white of his beard and close-cropped hair. In a suit Natalia would guess was Tom Ford, he looked too handsome to be a stalker. “This is my husband, Tito.” He gestured to the bald man to his right. “We’re Sam’s uncles.”
“I guess I should have led with that,” Tito agreed, his olive skin flushing red from his neck to the top of his shiny head. “I should also add that of the many uncles, I’m the favorite.” He extended his hand.
Natalia blinked, surprise rendering her momentarily speechless. She shook Tito’s hand on autopilot. She’d expected to meet Samantha’s family, but hadn’t considered what it would be like.
“Blanca tells us you’re one impressive woman,” Tito continued enthusiastically. “And we did a little Googling of our own — you’ve accomplished incredible things! That LGBTQ talent agency you built from the ground up? Revolutionary!”
Natalia managed a polite smile, though praise often left her uneasy. “Thank you. It’s been a very rewarding endeavor,” she offered her standard response.
“I loved that movie. The queer heist with all the gorgeous specimens,” Ty added. “What was the name of it?—”
“Stealing Venus—” Natalia started, but Tito clapped enthusiastically, cutting her off.
“That one! It was like someone said Oceans 8, but make the lady-loving ladies part right in your face.” Tito laughed. “We loved it! And according to Google, it wouldn’t have been made without your top talent.”
Natalia was unaccustomed to being bombarded with warmth and praise. She looked for an ulterior motive, but her rum-dipped brain couldn’t find one. That didn’t mean that these men were being genuine. She just couldn’t guess what they wanted. Not yet.
“You must be brilliant to pull something like that off back when attitudes were so backwards.” Ty shook his head, voice low and velvety — a restrained contrast to Tito’s exuberance. “Such an inspiration for young businesswomen and entrepreneurs everywhere. Especially those just starting the journey of embracing their true selves.”
Flustered, Natalia nodded. How else was she supposed to respond to open admiration from virtual strangers?
