Page 72 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

A wind chime.

A wind chime with a dangling glass goldfinch swung outside the Vale summer, attached above the doorbell camera.

Parked next to Skye’s car, Celene stepped out, stretching from four hours trapped in her car.

That included an hour of traffic, when all she wanted was to push the speed limit to Yielding.

Joining rustling trees and the growl of a neighbor’s lawn mower, the chiming brought Celene back to Luce’s Mosaic Wonderland, amongst the tiles.

Celene anticipated the crunch of leaves and branches under her feet. Thankfully, the yard had been cleared of excess brush, raked into neat piles lining the property.

The rewards of the house occupied daily. A proper residence.

She waved a fly from buzzing around her face, not quite liking that part of their outdoors orchestra.

It soon fled to bother someone else, floating in zips and zags around trees and grass a little longer than Celene’s ideal.

Expected of Nature Girl. She eyed the fibrous mounds of Boob Mountain.

Snakes still grossed her out, so Celene kept her distance.

In a new pair of flats, she traipsed to the mailbox across the street. Junk mail got a frown from her, stiff and wastefully present. Looking up from it, she waved at nosy Ms. Greene huffing and puffing by in her visor, in her early afternoon power walk.

Such pedestrian tasks. So, why did Celene grin at herself?

Maybe because this place was no longer an ashen, haunted deathtrap hanging by a thread. It no longer reeked of neglect.

Dragging her luggage behind her, Celene pitched the envelopes into a recycling bin. It reminded her she’d packed a tiny souvenir from a day at the park with her nieces—a handful of lollipop wrappers. They’d find an eccentric, worthwhile home in the Candy Red Office.

Upon the deck, she took note of the screen added to the sliding door. Good addition, she judged, as it allowed a breeze without any creatures sneaking in. Even the water-resistant rocking chairs Elise and Ajay bought matched the aesthetic.

“Skye, I’m here,” she called out as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. The usual cleaning bottles from the store had been replaced by labeled reusable ones—natural concoctions.

She dried her hands, plopping her watch into a decorative bowl holding her girlfriend’s car keys. No need to monitor time right now.

Celene turned to find Skye standing there in a flowy cutoff blouse and jeans, her smile as soft and shy as it had been when they first started talking again. When she’d only been a familiar forager. “You made it here safely.”

Celene greeted her with, “Hello, beautiful.”

Skye had stayed at Celene’s apartment for five days. Five days they’d dedicated to radical amounts of relaxation, connection—physical and emotional—and reaching the necessary milestones.

Like meeting Celene’s friends. It went without friction, as Nadine asked relevant Poconos questions, trying to drown out Dante making fake-not-fake dating jokes.

Skye seemed to like them, laughing to cover for her shyness.

Those twins loved a captive audience, though, so they ate up her amusement.

All of this occurred after a front-row Broadway experience Nadine had casually introduced like, “My dad gave me some tickets to this thing.”

The two weeks after Skye left were busy ones for Celene.

Running more workshops at a company retreat, a Children’s Museum trip with Don and his family, babysitting Theo,and more hangouts with Shanice.

Even an afternoon tea with her sister and Ajay—a short visit.

Celene exited when Elise began belting showtunes.

With her dad, Celene had explained her idea of adding Skye for ownership of the house. They’d chatted over the phone with a lawyer friend, and Byron, as cavalier as ever, told her this would run with less hassle if she and Skye were married. Subtle.

All the family time still drained Celene. She was due for another trip.

She cupped Skye’s face for a kiss, tasting hibiscus and honey.

Unsurprisingly, it melded into a deeper plunge because Celene’s tongue gravely missed stroking into Skye.

She would’ve come to Yielding a week sooner, but Skye insisted on more days to tie up loose ends.

By now, Celene had grown hungry for her without reason to hide it.

She slid her hand down to massage Skye’s smooth, sensitive nape, clarifying her plans for the rest of the day.

Skye moaned, yet she severed their mouths before Celene could assert her hand into her top. Panting already, she murmured, “Hold on.”

That’s when Celene noticed Skye had both arms behind her back. “Do you have a present for me?”

Celene hoped. She hoped so badly.

When her hope had been confirmed, Celene still forgot how to breathe.

Skye presented the Forever Fuchsia.

And it was astounding.

It jingled, not unlike the chimes outside.

That was where the comparisons stopped—for shiny, complex beauty manifested in stemmed cuts of glass.

Celene took in how the pieces puzzled into each other along the curves in a gradation of greens.

Similar leaves had been jiggered onto the stems, on hinges so delicate Celene feared touching them.

And at the tops were the most vibrant parts—the flowers hanging on similar hinges, in glassy pinks, purples, and reds.

Eleven blossoms in varying bunches on several stems, in a handmade mosaic pot, purposefully uneven in a swooping shape.

God, to live a day in Skye’s mind.

Celene blinked tears and didn’t attempt to wipe them. She needed Skye to see her, all of her rendered speechless.

“Welcome to Yielding,” Skye said, a step above a whisper. Her hands shook; the petals lightly clinked accordingly. “Happy you’re back, Celene.”

“Please, put it down,” Celene croaked, tapping the kitchen counter. She swiped her hands with more urgency until Skye gently slid it to the quartz.

Once the sculpture was safely out of dodge, Celene looped her arms around Skye’s shoulders, kissing her now out of a desperate need to just feel her, to spill out these emotions. Elation, amazement, admiration, longing, love.

Love, Celene could love .

They kissed until the clouds outside shadowed the room, in a house bursting with life and—she spotted one of Byron’s eagle motifs over the fireplace—personality. On the mantle stood a framed print of her and Skye as children, playing with the aster.

Yes, Skye fit in here seamlessly.

“It’s the finest piece of art I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe it’s even mine.” Celene stroked Skye’s smile with her knuckle. Then, something occurred to her. “I have to pay you. Your second half as agreed in our contract.”

Skye did one of her harmless eye rolls. “I can’t accept your money. This is a gift.”

“How can you say that? You put so much effort into it.”

“I can’t lie, not being cramped inside the wall has advantages. That and all my quiet time in the blue room.”

“The blue room.” Celene showed her a real eye roll, sarcasm included. “Its absurd number of windows. It was made to be your studio.”

Skye blew curly hair from her lips, grinning. “I wish I knew the story behind its construction.”

She took a mental note to ask around—maybe one of the contractors knew. “Anyways, this is your first commission. I want to have that honor.”

“How about this,” Skye replied, detangling their necklaces, causing Celene to tremble. “I’ll keep a dollar of it; we’ll donate the rest. Plus, I’d like to pay June myself.”

“June?”

Without another word, Skye interlocked their fingers and led them down the hall.

Ever the art lover, she’d hung nature-based photos and paintings on both sides of the way, bringing organic life to once barren, dry walls.

With a sharp eye, Celene read out Thalia’s signature on an abstract oil-painted canvas, then turned into an old bedroom that barely got her attention.

That would change. Starting now.

“You’re sharing a house with me, Celene. A house .” Skye tugged her to the center of the room, over a wide, circular rug. “In a neighborhood a short ride from my grandmother, in a town I love more every year. With agency to make it mine.”

Celene held her hand over her mouth, gaping at three walls, matte finished, with long shelves built onto them—a home library.

Per the Skye Florentine touch, several plants had been added, too.

Real plants, of green and yellow and pink and violet, that would need tending to, and Celene didn’t mind.

And even if she did, that would be irrelevant when she gazed upon the new structure built under its one large window.

It’d been cozied with a bench, cushions, and pillows the same color as the meditation gear at her Manhattan apartment.

Off to the side, out of reach of the sun, the living fuchsia spun softly. Still blooming, still thriving.

“A library and reading nook for you and your brooding, introspective literature,” Skye whispered, guiding Celene to sit somewhere she could get lost in when too rainy or cold for a hammock day. “No more piles of boxes.”

Running her hand over the gauzy drapes, Celene shook her head in disbelief. When her previous engagement dissolved, Celene resigned herself from romantic relationships, the possibility of getting lost again. Then, a nervous Skye handed her a potted plant and found her.

Comfortable with the silence, Skye pointed to the lamps, to the separators on the shelves. “June and Tariq crafted their best work here. They, um, really want you to stay.”

“Do you?” Celene heard herself ask. “Want me to stay?”

Skye climbed over Celene, knees denting the soft fabric.

Her brown eyes blazed from the subdued light source, ravishing with her smile.

“I told you. As long as we’re together, we’re solid.

Between two states, we give each other an escape.

” Then, cute as ever, she dipped her head, askew curly bangs catching onto her eyebrows.

“Though I’d love if, one day, this could be ours permanently. Our home base.”

When Celene didn’t immediately answer, Skye nodded in the direction of the door, going on, “There’s so much space here.

Two other unexplored rooms. We could zhuzh them up so they’ll be ready for visits from either of our families.

June measured and said one could fit bunk beds—those would be perfect for Cosmo’s children or Theo eventually, or when Elise and Ajay have little ones.

Or even if we...” Skye drew her bottom lip inward, and Celene’s stomach twisted.

Not in fear or pressure, but in the colorful shades of a future with someone who loved her.

“I’m on the fence for that; could go either way. ”

Celene leaned closely, aching to kiss her and holding back. “We can figure that out. Together.”

Skye eased out a breath she’d probably been holding since the beginning of the summer. She showed teeth in her wider smile. “I don’t know when I would’ve shown Luce my art if you hadn’t believed in me. I’m a little more fearless.”

“We both are. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fearlessly.” Teasing Celene out of the kiss she wanted so much, Skye nuzzled their noses. “Before I spotted you at the market looking at perennials, your living fuchsia sat on my lap, unbloomed, pulsing to June’s music. So I named it something fitting.”

Their toast charms snapped together as Celene captured Skye’s lips, sighing into the kiss. Matching her eagerness, the greed for Skye’s skin. For only a decadent minute, asking afterward, “What’d you name it?”

“Heart,” Skye whispered, closing her eyes for more, “I gave you my heart and didn’t realize it.”

As the eldest of the Vales, Celene had been overlooked, underappreciated.

Now, under the roof of her own home, those stressors seemed so long ago, insignificant.

Celene could breathe. She found peace.