Her sandal caught on a loose brick. The stumble came without warning. Before she could steady herself Casey’s arm was around her waist again, pulling her upright. The contact hit exactly as it had in the bar. Heat spread through the thin fabric of her blouse, rushing across her ribs and lower, stealing the air from her lungs. She felt the press of Casey’s side against hers, the solid strength of that arm. It went everywhere at once. Her knees softened in a way that had nothing to do with alcohol.
Casey held her there a moment longer than necessary, checking. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” The word came out smaller than Stephanie wanted.
Casey’s hand lingered at her hip, then eased away. The absence felt colder than it should have. Stephanie kept walking, heart beating hard against her ribs. The realization settled deeper now, undeniable.
This was real.
This was happening to her.
She was forty-six years old and the woman who had once felt invisible inside her own marriage was walking home beside someone who made every familiar rule feel suddenly borrowed from another life.
The thought should have frightened her more. Instead it sat warm in her stomach, humming beneath the rum and the night air and the quiet sound of their footsteps on the old pavement. She didn’t know what she was going to do with any of it. She only knew she didn’t want this walk to end.
16
Casey thanked Stephanie for a great night as they reached the cottages. The walk had unfolded between them without effort, the final block of sidewalk quiet under the streetlights.
“Thanks for taking me out,” Stephanie said. Then she stepped in and pulled Casey into a hug.
The contact came quickly. Stephanie’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, her body warm against Casey’s. The green blouse was smooth under her hands.
Casey went still for half a second, hands hovering before she let them settle lightly at Stephanie’s back.
The hug felt deliberate. Stephanie pressed close, and Casey’s pulse jumped. She blamed the rum. People got affectionate when they drank. That was probably all this was.
They pulled apart. Stephanie’s hands trailed a beat longer than necessary before she stepped back.
“Goodnight,” Stephanie said, voice quieter now.
Casey echoed it and watched her cross the short distance to the rental. The door closed with a soft click. Casey stood there a moment longer than she needed to. Then she turned toward her own porch.
Inside, the kitchen light felt too bright against her eyes. She poured a glass of water from the tap and drank it standing at the sink, the cool edge of the counter pressing into her palms. She rinsed the glass, set it down, and walked out the back door to the pool courtyard.
The lounger creaked under her weight as she stretched out on her back. She stared at the dark slice of sky visible above the courtyard wall. The pool filter hummed its steady rhythm. Her body would not settle. Every time she closed her eyes, she was reminded of the evening: the way Stephanie had looked at dinner, the flush that climbed her throat when Casey had admitted she was her type, the easy press of their knees at the bar. The whole night had felt like a date even though Casey had known it wasn’t.
She pressed the heels of her hands over her eyes.
What the hell was she doing?
She couldn’t afford this. This was so much worse than what happened with Melissa and Ash.
Stephanie was straight. That fact sat like a hard, bright line Casey kept tripping over. The woman had been married for twenty years. She had spent the evening looking quietly stunned at the idea that anyone might think they were together. Even if the moment at the gate had felt charged, even if Stephanie’s hug had lingered, none of it changed the core truth.
Casey had no shot here. Chasing any flicker would only end with her being disappointed.
She needed to shut this down. Now.
She lay there a long time. The stars shifted slowly overhead. At some point she must have dozed, because the soft creak of the gate latch pulled her back to full awareness. The pool lights had switched to their overnight cycle, casting everything in cooler, softer blues.
Casey sat up and raked a hand through her hair, fingers catching on salt-stiff strands. The motion pulled at her shoulders. She let her arm drop and heard the rustle of leaves at the gate. Her head turned.
Stephanie stood there in the opening, one hand still on the latch. She wore soft gray shorts and a black tank top that looked like pajamas. Her face was bare of the light makeup she had worn earlier.
Casey’s chest tightened. “Hey. You okay?” The words came out low, careful. Had she fallen? Locked herself out? Nothing else made sense for her to be here at nearly two in the morning.
Stephanie crossed the courtyard and sat on the lounger beside Casey’s, knees angled so they nearly touched.
