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"That only applies if I work here, which I don't. What are you two talking about today?"
Please, dear God, Chloe, don't...
"If Gen fantasizes about kissing Marguerite. I think she does, as red as she blushes when I ask her about it."
Gen groped for casual amusement. "Since I'm seeing Lyda, Chloe is trying to determine if I've had the hots for her and Marguerite all this time."
"Not me." Chloe shook her head. "I think you only go for the true Domme thing. You have a vibe like Brendan on that, but it's a different note. It was really low key until Lyda came around, and now it's a full piano chord."
Please shut up, Chloe. Talking about it in front of Tyler, with customers nearby, was stepping way outside Gen's comfort zone. Gen wondered if there was a hole in the back garden big enough to swallow her up.
"Chloe," Tyler said mildly. "That's enough."
Proving just how good a Master he was, Tyler did the impossible, focusing Chloe with merely a look. Her attention went to Gen's still face, and chagrin captured her pretty features. "I didn't know I was getting on your nerves, honey. I'm sorry."
"You weren't." Gen took a breath. "It's fine. It's probably not going to work out, anyway. I'm not sure why I started down a road I don't understand. When I hit a dead end, I'll feel like I've painted myself into a corner with no way out. The two of them already feel like...I can't breathe without them. And that sounds silly and cliche and young. So it's better if you don't get too into it. Maybe it's best we don't talk about it...so much."
Words were falling out of her mouth she didn't mean to say. Crazy batshit was right, with a nice dose of bipolar thrown in. Grabbing several boxes from the hall that needed to be broken down and put in the storeroom, she fled, giving Tyler an apologetic look.
As she hurried down the path, she tried to corral her emotions. She was a grown woman, but every thought, every beat of her pulse, was centered around Noah and Lyda, evidence of her desire to be with them. Her penchant for safety and clear lines kept her falling back, challenging Lyda, even as she surrendered when the woman looked at her a certain way. She was balanced on a knife edge, with an abyss on one side and a fiery pit on the other, yet she knew she was going to jump, let go of the safety bar. The matter wasn't if, it was when.
"Damn it." She broke the boxes down with passion and shouldered into the storeroom, plopping down on a stool. "I'm so fucked."
"In its literal translation, a good thing. But I expect you meant the pejorative."
Gen started. Marguerite sat on her stool in the corner, separating out the latest India shipment. Her tiny silver spoons were arrayed before her to sample the inventory.
Maybe because of what they'd just been discussing, when Gen looked at her boss, she couldn't tuck it all back into her safe subconscious. It was probably the first time she'd stared at her openly like this, cataloging her effect on Gen's senses. Her moonlight-colored hair was clipped over one shoulder, her lips frosted a pale pink. She wore very little makeup because she needed almost none. Her pale-blue eyes were like a mermaid's eyes, mysterious and tragic, yet hypnotic.
Since getting married, she'd finally gained some weight, because Tyler stayed after her about eating, but she still had an ascetic look that emphasized the fine bone structure in her face, her slender neck and those beautiful hands. Ironically, the starburst-shaped scar on the top of one of them only made them more fascinating.
Gen knew the childhood horror that had created that scar, the past that Marguerite always carried in her eyes and aloof manner. But being with Tyler had made it better, had brought healing to wounds that had bled for years. The scars would always be there, the memories, but Marguerite carried them more easily now. Tyler bore part of the load, helped carry her when she needed it.
Would Gen get to that point with Lyda or Noah? Had her feelings for them unlocked what Gen wanted so badly at this point in her life? Was that what was really scaring her so much? The contentment she'd created for herself had come at a cost. She'd lowered expectations and discovered the pleasure of accepting the little joys, rather than making leaps into the unknown. What she faced with Lyda and No
ah was hell and gone from that. It was standing at a canyon edge and wondering, if she stepped out, would a bridge materialize out of thin air to connect her to the other side. And would what waited for her there be worth the risk?
"I think I'm falling in love," she said. "Lyda's the one who scares me the most, from the selfish, is-she-going-to-tear-my-heart-to-bits perspective. But Noah...there's something eluding me there. A different kind of fear, like if I get it wrong, I'd be doing the hurting. I feel his heart, but I think it's an illusion... Can I try something, M?"
She sounded like a manic magpie, but Marguerite didn't seem perturbed. Rising, she came to stand in front of Gen, touching her face. It was a measure of Gen's obvious distress that Marguerite would make physical contact. Or say the words she said now. "It depends on what it is. I won't let you do anything that will hurt yourself."
"Is that what I'm doing with them?"
"Not up front. If it ends in pain, I can't change that. But I can be here, and so can Chloe, if you need us. What is it you want to try?"
"Never mind. God, I can't believe I even started to ask."
"So ask anyway." Marguerite's thumb passed over Gen's lips, an intimate touch that drew her gaze back up to her face.
"Do you think I'm with you because I wanted...a Mistress? And I didn't really realize the sexual part of it, until now, with Lyda?"
Marguerite's lips pursed. "It's possible. There are people who marry the opposite sex and embrace a desire for the same sex years later, when other matters are resolved for them. Once they embrace it, they realize it was who they were all along, but other forms of growth had to happen first. As quickly as this has developed between the three of you, it's a credible idea for you."
"Can I kiss you?"
It was rare she was able to startle Marguerite. Gen waved a frantic hand. "No, I don't mean it like...a pass. Oh, good grief. I'm just trying to figure out..."
"It's not transference, Gen."
