Page 79 of Tell Me What you Think

"I'll decide later and let you know."

"That's not fair," Olga protests, "it has to be now or—"

The quarter-hour chime rings and Marina takes a sip to clear her throat so the grapes—which she doesn't want or like—go down easier.

"It's starting." Olga nudges her gently with her elbow before picking up her bowl and holding it in front of her, the first grape between her fingers.

Marina watches her with a grin and mirrors her position. The countdown begins and the vice president does fine through the first four, but by the fifth she's already falling behind; by the seventh her cheeks are puffed out and she's trying to chew while stuffing in another one at the same time. By the ninth she chokes and makes a strange noise that makes Olga turn toward her—unhurriedly popping in the next grape and winking at her as she swallows. Marina falls for it, and the laughter forces her to lean over her bowl and spit out everything in her mouth rather than spray it everywhere.

Olga, stoic, watches her out of the corner of her eye, holding back her own laughter until, on the twelfth chime, she pops the last grape in her mouth and swallows.

"God, that was worse than when I spit out the wine," she says, laughing, while Marina finishes wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"Mine were bigger, that's why—"

"No excuses." Olga moves closer and puts her arms around her shoulders. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, sweetheart."

They hug to the sound of firecrackers in the background, and as they hold each other, Marina travels back a year to this exact moment—lying on this same couch watching a movie, unable to fall asleep because she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss Olga had stolen from her a few days before.

"Last year at this hour you sent me a message," she whispers against her ear.

Olga nods against her shoulder and kisses her neck.

"I did. I wrote it and deleted it a thousand times, not knowing if it was appropriate after what I'd done—but I needed to wish you a happy new year, and I guess, in some way, I wanted you to know that in that moment when everyone's celebrating and toasting, I was thinking about you."

Marina holds her breath, moved.

"I was thinking about you too," the vice president confesses.

"Really?" Olga pulls back to look her in the eyes.

"Yes." Marina brushes a strand of her bangs to the side. "I was thinking about the kiss. Even though I said I wouldn't, I never stopped."

Olga kisses her, and as she does, her mind drifts back to that night—alone in her apartment, terrified she'd ruined the only good thing she had—and to seven months ago, when she signed the deed to her apartment in front of the notary and walked out and the first thing she did was call this woman.

"What are you thinking about?" Marina asks, getting up and holding out her hand to go to bed.

"About how this past year has been the best of my life."

The corner of Marina's mouth curves to the left.

"Oh yeah?" she asks, her voice low and teasing.

"Yes," Olga says with a playful smile. "And also about how you lost the bet and tomorrow you're going to have to get in the water."

Marina's smile disappears and she presses closer to her, cursing that tradition of taking a beach swim that she has never once understood.

"Is there anything I can do to get out of it?"

She kisses her slow and soft on the neck and hears her sigh.

"I'm sorry, but as much as I want to go to bed with you, sex is not getting you out of this one."

Olga leaves her in the middle of the living room and heads toward the bedroom.

"Seriously?" Marina asks, following her.