“Oh, thank god,” Jackie mumbles, muffled by Claire’s shirt.
Claire laughs. She’s full to the brim with happiness, overflowing with it, and it’s spilling out of her now. “Does that mean…”
“Of course I love you, Claire,” Jackie says, tightening her arms around Claire’s shoulders. Her voice is quavery. “Part of what scares me is howmuch. Meeting you, knowing you, made me realize that what I had with Val was shallow in comparison. And if the end of that broke me…”
“So you pushed me away?”
“I was trying to let you go. I wanted you to be able to keep your normal life. To be happy.”
“My life wasn’t happy before,” Claire murmurs into her hair. “But now I think it could be.”
In an effort to hug Jackie back, Claire finally slips her fingers free from the warmth they’ve been buried in this whole time. She was so content there that she’d almost forgotten, and Jackie did too, based on her surprised intake of breath. Claire runs her wet fingers briefly through the hair between Jackie’s legs, and remembers how Jackie had nuzzled at Claire’s before she took Claire into her mouth.
It makes her want to drop to her knees, like Jackie did, and keep on learning.
Punch-drunk on love, Claire kisses her.
It’s a soft, unhurried kind of kiss, a kind Claire has never had before. She’s never felt the need to kiss Pete outside of the necessary times—a peck on the cheek in the morning, a kiss or two before or after lovemaking. Quick and to the point. Tongue was never a factor.
This kiss is exploratory. Claire follows every whim, sliding her tongue along Jackie’s and letting herself learn by example. Her hands explore every bit of Jackie’s body she can reach, and Jackie arches into her with a contented noise. She’s so very soft—soft lips, soft skin, soft curves. No whiskers or harsh noises. She smells good. She tastes good.
There’s not a thing in the world that could make Claire turn her back on this.
Outside the door a telltalethumpandcrashbursts the bubble of the moment, followed by a chorus of drunken laughter.
“What now?” Jackie whispers, against Claire’s mouth.
Claire knows what she doesn’t want to do. She doesn’t want to leave this closet yet. She doesn’t want to face the real world, with all its harshness. She wants to stay right here, letting contentment fill her up with every soft meeting of their lips.
But the party still rages outside. Pete is probably still at Martha’s, completely unaware that Claire is truly leaving, andthere are things that need to be dealt with. Everything else can come after.
Many, many times after.
“We could go to my place,” Claire says, punctuating it with one last kiss to the tip of Jackie’s nose. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. I don’t think staying here tonight is a good idea, with Pete next door.”
“Or we could take off,” Jackie blurts.
Claire loses her train of thought entirely. “Take off? To where?”
“Anywhere. We can see the country. Go north, or east. We can get a motel,” Jackie says, all in a rush. “Anything you want.”
Claire’s smile threatens to split her face in two. She tucks a strand of Jackie’s hair behind her ear, tracing the line of her lovely cheek with the backs of her fingers. It feels as if she might die if they aren’t touching in every place they can be. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”
“I want some time with you, before everything kicks off. To figure out what we want and what to do next before the world catches up.” Jackie gnaws at her lip, pitching the idea like Claire might refuse. Like Claire wouldn’t follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked.
“How long?” Claire says, letting the reality of what’s happening fill her up like warm tea in a mug. “I think Anita would give me whatever time off I ask for.”
Jackie’s smile is radiant. “As long as you want. Wherever you want to go.”
This is perhaps the most control over her own life Claire has ever had. She’s not one to like making decisions, always aware of the judgement she’ll get for making a bad one, but this feels different. Natural.
“I could go for a vacation,” Claire says. “Like a honeymoon?”
Jackie’s grin widens. She scratches gently at the base of Claire’s neck, just at her hairline. “I’ve got a full tank of gas, and nowhere else I want to be.”
“What about your party? You can’t just leave,” Claire says, though she’s already making a list of the few things she needs to pack. “They could trash your house.”
Jackie laughs a little. “I’m selling the house. I don’t care. I bought it because I was running from something. I never belonged here.”
