Page 69 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

A shower post-drive back into Manhattan stood as non-negotiable. Skye offered her hand for Celene to drag them into the bathroom, intent on washing off all the “judgment and commotion.”

“Please do me a favor,” Celene said forty minutes later, her face muffled atop her covers. “Take a photo of me. Next time I suggest visiting my family, show it to me to bring me to my senses.”

In a set of Celene’s whisper-soft pajamas, Skye giggled at her single snapshot memorializing her girlfriend’s defenses down, in a condition of depletion.

She pinched to crop it for better composition, of the methodically selected décor guiding the eye to the bed and its subject.

“This is peak photography. I could sell prints.”

The numb voice responding couldn’t suppress her affection in, “What would you name it?”

Skye crawled alongside Celene. As her mind sailed the gulf of ideas that’d look immaculate on an exhibit label, she scaled fingertips through Celene’s damp hair. “This calls for something pretentious. I’d title it, ‘Woman Lying or Lying Woman?: Musings of the Feminine Spirit In Modern Stasis.’”

“God, you’ll fit into the art world just fine.”

They laughed together, and even that laughter had been wrung of all vitality. Skye punched on the bedside noise machine, closing her eyes for its dependable whirr.

An early rising, marathon of sex, and an overstimulating evening rooted Skye to the bed. This combination called for tea, but not with her muscles and joints finally relaxing.

Skye’s phone vibrated in her hand. Her mother already returned to her Yielder pastimes, sending a photo of mushrooms—four varieties piled next to bunches of wild grapes in a woven basket.

Mama – 10:08 pm

Solid harvest today. We’ll preserve the grapes and cook up the rest. Should we save you anything?

Skye – 10:09 pm

Eat up. We can always get more.

She lowered the brightness of her screen before holding it for Celene to blink slowly at. “My parents went foraging today.”

The amusement she’d envisioned from Celene went in another direction. To restlessness, eyes searching Skye’s more than the image. “You should’ve been there with them—being wholesome and one with the earth—instead of dealing with my family’s gravy and dysfunction.”

Tightness spun uncomfortably through Skye’s stomach. She tossed her phone behind her to lie on her side, centering the guilt clearly in Celene’s features. “I miss my parents, yes, but we always keep in touch. They’ll be home for a month, time enough to attend June and Zini’s wedding.”

Celene’s eyes flicked as they often did, and within minutes, Skye could see them softly brighten. “Will they record new videos?”

“No. They actually relax in Yielding, so they’ll post previously shot episodes to make up for the break.”

“Smart. They seem like a breath of fresh air.”

“You’ll see for yourself. My parents are two of the chillest people you’ll ever meet. Cosmo, too. My granddad...” Her skin warmed where Celene stroked beneath Skye’s jaw. “He took me foraging, gave me tons of in-depth lessons so I wouldn’t, you know?—”

“Poison yourself alone out in the woods?” Celene asked, her upper lip peaking for a smirk.

“Scary, right?”

“Did you two forage for blueberries?”

Picking up on the reference to their meet-up, Skye kissed Celene’s cheek, then her lips. “They were his favorite.”

Celene used the following silence to pull Skye’s hand between them. Their brown skin contrasted with the comforter sheets, fingers interlocking loosely. She intoned, “I hope June and Zini have clear weather on their wedding day.”

Naturally, Celene had been invited to June and Zinnia’s outdoor ceremony, though Skye could tell it meant even more to her when they brought it up at the cake-tasting. Skye simpered, all tingly at the prospect of seeing Celene in a similar light one day. “If not, we’d make it work.”

“Do you have any duties? Bridesmaid stuff? Helping out?”

“June’s family is huge. She told me to just show up, get tipsy, and have a great time.” Skye held up a finger the way June had at the addendum: “As long as I buy the spice rack they want.”

Celene sighed in playful grimness. “No responsibilities beyond that? We can show up and enjoy the wedding?”

“That’s it, that’s all.” Skye mimicked as Luce, loving how little by little, they’d learn each other’s history in full. Her heart pounded. “The spice rack can be from both of us. We can throw in some companions—like an herb garden kit.”

“I like that. And a spice grinder.”

“We have a plan.”

“ ‘We,’” Celene emphasized as a lilt, more awake than before. Returning a kiss, she said, “Mom pulled me aside. I don’t know what you told her, but she trusts you for now.”

“Is that hard to do?”

“She raised me. What do you think?”

Skye laughed lightly, interest swelling about the talk with Byron and Elise. Though she’d let Celene dictate when, as they probably required sleep before they swapped notes on their respective meetings. “She should trust me. I’m in it—in this . I’d never leave you behind.”

Celene stared after that. For so long that Skye’s eyes grew heavy.

Until Celene murmured, “Dragonfruit?”

Skye perked up. Pulse racing and not knowing why. “Dragonfruit.”

Celene shifted to prop her hand under her head, her gaze intense within seconds. “I dismissed Mavis via email. At Don’s house, right after the talk with my dad.”

Skye had gathered as much. That didn’t stop hot tears from forming behind her eyes. “You’re keeping the Vale house.”

“I’m keeping the house ,” Celene stressed the omitted word with a curled lip upward.

“I’m proud of my job, my business. It’s mostly remote, but I still consult in-person throughout the tri-state area.

And I’d like to spend more time with Shanice, Theo.

..” She paused for a siren blaring blocks away.

“I love when you’re in the city with me, too. ”

Not quite in her body, Skye assured her, “I forgot how much I missed it here.”

“Skye, I’ll wait for my lease renewal to thoroughly consider my decisions on whether the house is my forever home.” Quickly, she squeezed their fingers together to deter the disappointment that must’ve lived plain on Skye’s face. “Because,” she drew out, “I want to offer it to you.”

“Offer what?” Skye copied Celene, squeezing back. “Your house? The summer house?”

“You love Yielding; you are Yielding. It should belong to someone who treasures it.”

“That someone is you.”

The uncertainty dulling Celene’s eyes made Skye withdraw her hand. Not out of anger, but to move herself closer, intent on every line, every fleck, every angle of Celene’s face in sharp definition. “It should stay in your family.”

So Celene watched Skye—reading her sincerity, with any luck. Voice wavering, she said, “I see you as my family. Or at least, soon.”

Soon.

They’d be family.

This was bigger than a key. It was a deed. Ownership. A shared space to build on and enhance, and take on its burdens.

A love nest realized, apart from the fantasy.

Skye exhaled with a shudder. “You—you put so much intention into that place.”

“I don’t want it to go to waste for the weeks I’m away. I’m not interested in renting.”

“Then, how about this,” Skye replied, her convictions strong enough to make her hands shake. A house. Celene offered her a whole house. “I’ll agree to move in.”

Celene blinked harshly. Obviously caught askew.

“You’ll take this seriously. That means splitting housing expenses, bringing in furniture, updating the smaller bathrooms, converting one of the rooms into your studio—even the silly blue one, if you want.

God, what I’d give to have a partner to tackle these tasks with me. ”

Intriguing and also frighteningly vulnerable. If only Celene’s family could see her now, letting go once she felt secure. Skye tested her earnestness, playfully asking, “Knocking down some walls?”

“Yes, as long as it isn’t ugly. You have a good eye; don’t make anything ugly.”

Skye changed course so this wouldn’t tangent into renovation discourse. “I see a future with you. If that means alternating trips to each other until something sticks, I’m down. I’m good at waiting.”

Celene’s gaze softened at the waiting bit. “The house should be under both our names.”

“And it will be, one day. I just don’t believe in ousting it from your family. A Vale should stay at the Vale house.”

“I’ll make you a Vale,” Celene said in a slow exhale.

Letting that comment breathe, she kissed Skye, merging them into heavy minutes of sighs, warm glides of lips closing and parting, the occasional gasp. This sealed their contract, an exchange as official as the document for the Forever Fuchsia.

“Mm, wait.” Celene frowned at the pale ceiling, pensive and blazing alike. “You come from a notable family. Should I take Florentine?”

Skye tingled all over.

Who could’ve known that locking herself outside would yield this?

Celene fell to her back with a bounce of new energy, assessing last name choices. “Skye Vale—jesus, no, that sounds like an airline point system. Should we double-barrel it? Celene Florentine-Vale. Vale-Florentine? There’s no way we’re dropping your last name; that’s for fucking sure.”

Skye rested her cheek on a pillow smelling of ginger, more at peace listening to Celene rationalize the benefits of each name combination and any potential pronunciation issues than she’d be with hot tea.

Speaking their reality word again faded into a moot point tonight. It’d served its new purpose: as a general check-in, to pause and speak their minds.

Slowly, she nodded off, thanking Granddad Walter for that love of blueberries.