Sid joined her with a plate. “That sounds familiar.”
“Paul McCartney and Wings. I’m a big oldies rock fan, to warn you. It’s all Tish plays in the kitchen, so I’ve acquired a taste.”
“Duly noted. I know he’s vegetarian, is that who inspired you?” Sid asked, spearing a triangle of pancake. “I suppose I’m one, too. I don’t eat meat at every meal.”
“I say that because there are some things I won’t give up. I can’t drink coffee without real cream and I can’t do Thanksgiving without my mom’s turkey and homemade oyster stuffing.” She didn’t mean to eat so fast, but damn Sid could cook.
She could fuck like a master, too. Kit felt like she’d hit the lottery.
“Your family is local?”
Kit shook her head, effectively dissolving thoughts of Sid’s mouth on her pussy. “North Carolina, but only a few hours away. I’m the youngest of three daughters. You?”
“My parents have passed. I have an older brother still in Wyoming. He oversees the ranch now, and he’s welcome to it.”
“You weren’t kidding about the cowboys then.”
Sid laughed and shook her head. “Your family… do they know you’re a lesbian?”
“Actually, no.”
Sid looked up from her last bite.
“I never saw the reason to make a deal of it, you know?” she added. “It’s not like we talk about my love life when I visit. My sisters are married with kids, so my parents got their grandchildren. I’m off the hook there.” She smiled, forcing it.
“Do you fear their disapproval? I mean, I understand if yes. My parents, I think they knew before I came out as queer to them so it wasn’t so bad.”
She shrugged, wishing they could change the subject. “I’m not the only gay person in the family. My cousin on my mom’s side… everybody’s cool with it. I… I guess when I’m ready I’ll tell them.”
Sid pushed aside her empty plate and leaned on the counter opposite Kit. Her nipples touched the cold surface, and Kit watched them pebble. They’d certainly surpass the taste of her pancakes.
“You ever bring anybody home to meet them?”
“I’ve never been in a serious enough relationship,” Kit said.Until now?This new conversation track interested her. Surely Sid wasn’t renting the moving van in her head already. Forone, this place wouldn’t hold a fraction of her stuff, and her apartment was no bigger.
Assuming she and Sid lasted, could she bring Sid home to meet the family without having a panic attack? Honestly, she’d feel content living the rest of her life without bringing it up at the Christmas dinner table, regardless of whether or not her parents or sisters suspected.
Kit ate her breakfast. Too soon to think of happily ever afters and matching rocking chairs in old age. What could she possibly say to move this conversation in a different direction?
Saved by the ringtone. Thank you, Tish.She’d set her boss’s number to “Sugar Sugar,” and excused herself to answer the call.
“Rise and shine, missy.” Tish sounded cheerful as always. “Are you decent?”
“Depends on your definition of the word. What can I do for you on a Sunday?” Tish didn’t need to know she stood in Sid’s living room-slash-bedroom, or that the apartment’s nude resident stood behind her and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of Kit’s pants.
All the while, a knot formed in her stomach. Tish rarely called her on a day off. This could only mean a plea to work overtime.
“Well,whereveryou are, I’m glad to hear you answered your phone instead of some ax murderer.” Behind Tish’s voice, Kit heard Vinnie snickering.
Kit frowned. “Meaning?” Where was this going?
“Kit, it’s a small town. Not many people own bright red Mini Coopers with‘I brake for books’stickers on the back windows,” Tish said. “Vinnie’s uncle called to say he noticed your car wasn’t in your driveway when he drove past on the way to early Mass.”
Her stomach roiled. She rented one half of a duplex near Dominic Petrocelli’s home. Nice guy, but so damned nosy,always trying to fix her up with one of his drivers. “Why would he call you on a Sunday morning to say something like that?”
“He thinks I’m your mother. The heck should I know?” Tish laughed. “He was worried, I’m thinking. I guess if everybody in town knows you sleep in on Sunday, imaginations run wild.”
Am I that predictable?“As you can hear, I’m intact and breathing. Next time you get a call from that busybody, you should threaten to charge more for the chocolate and champagne packages we’re undercutting to Big Apple Limo.”
