Page 36 of Breadwinner

Her name moved through Sarah’s head like a breath—so effortless, but entirely unwanted and utterly inevitable. She hated it.

Sarah shifted in her chair, tucking one bare foot up under her thigh, her other hand worrying the stem of her wineglass. Guilt, longing, and shame all knotted in a tangle she couldn’t unpick.

She felt Nell’s eyes on her from where she sat across the fire. She wasn’t staring, but she was definitely observing.

“Where are you right now?” Nell said finally. “Because I can tell you’re not here with me.”

Sarah blinked at her, caught, her fingers tightening reflexively around her glass. “I’m sorry,” she said thinly.

Nell shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. “I don’t need your apology. I want the truth.”

Sarah hesitated. The firelight flickered across Nell’s face, catching the strong lines of her cheekbones, the knowing tilt of her mouth. She wasn’t pushing or prying. She was waiting for Sarah to open up.

She swallowed hard, deciding to sidestep Nell’s request. “You didn’t let me touch you earlier. Did I do something wrong?”

Back in the bedroom—once she had come down from her own high—Sarah had let her hand wander to the hem of Nell’s shirt, fully ready to reciprocate, only to be stopped with a simple “No.”

Disappointment at her aversion graced Nell’s gaze, but she still answered.

“I didn’t want you to. I wanted you; I got you. There’s nothing more to it. Now, are you done avoiding my question?”

Busted.

“It’s Beth,” Sarah said, her voice barely louder than the crackling fire. “My ex-wife.”

Nell said nothing, just nodded once. Sarah stared into the flames, surprised at how fast her words came, ready to tumbleout, clumsy and raw. “I’m still in love with her. I’ve never stopped loving her.” The confession felt like ripping a bandage off.

Nell leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs lazily, swirling her wine in its glass, still not speaking.

Sarah pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself. “And it’s complicated,” she continued, the words coming faster, “because she’s with someone else now, and she’s happy. God, she’s so happy.”

A wild laugh left her—one that wasn’t hers. It was absurd. All of this was absurd. Her feelings for Beth, this thing with Nell, all of it.

“And I should want that for her. Idowant that for her. Mostly. But—” She broke off, shame flaring hot in her chest. “But there’s this awful little part of me that wonders...” Sarah’s voice cracked. “What if it doesn’t last? What if something happens? Jamie had cancer years ago, and she’s okay now, but”—God, this was so fucked—“but sometimes, late at night, I think... maybe something will happen. And maybe Beth will be alone again. And maybe I’ll get another chance.”

She couldn’t look at Nell now, couldn’t bear to see disgust or disappointment in her eyes. But when Nell spoke, her voice was calm, free of the judgment she expected to hear. “That’s not awful, Sarah,” she said simply. “It’s incredibly human.”

Sarah let out a shaky breath, her whole body sagging with the weight of the admission. “I’ve never said any of that out loud before.”

Finally, Sarah was courageous enough to look up and Nell smiled faintly, tilting her wineglass toward her in a silent toast. “Well,” Nell said dryly, “it’s a good thing you’re drinking the good wine for it. Rule number three: Always drink the good wine. And especially for conversations like this.”

Sarah laughed, a real laugh this time, wiping at her eyes.

They sat for a moment in comfortable silence, the fire crackling between them, then Nell leaned forward slightly, setting her glass down on the table beside her.

“You’re clear about what this is between us?” she asked evenly. “You’re not here because you’re trying to replace Beth, correct? Forgetting is fine; I can help you forget. But I’m not a replacement. I don’tdothose kinds of relationships.”

Sarah looked at her—really looked—and found nothing in Nell’s face but certainty.

“I’m clear,” she said, matching her certainty. “That’s why this works. I like being here. With you.” She took a sip from her wineglass, feeling the peppery burn in her throat. “I’m not looking for romance. I’m looking for a connection. For someone toseeme, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“I see you, Sarah,” Nell said quietly. “I see youveryclearly.”

Sarah’s throat tightened as Nell stood, stretching with a luxurious groan that made that fire low in Sarah’s stomach ignite and twist with residual want.

“Come on,” Nell said, and gestured toward the tray Emory had left behind. “Let’s set something on fire. It’s good for the soul.”

Sarah got up and joined Nell, her heart a little lighter, her body still deliciously sore, and her mindfinallyquiet.