“I think she’s wonderful, mija.” She smiled warmly at Sarah. “Very pretty and with a good head on her shoulders. She’s done a lot of nice things for you, and that makes me like her all the more. Did she say anything about Martin? I saw them flirting a bit at dinner.”

Sarah couldn’t prevent a sigh. “You know, I’m not sure he’s her type. But I really like spending time with her, and then there’s the fact that Grace simply adores her. I just wanted you and Papa—”

“Not those glasses, sweetie, we have to hand wash those. So James looked very handsome today, didn’t you think? He would be quite the catch for you, Sarah.” In response to Sarah’s eye roll, her voice moved into that cautionary mom tone Sarah knew so well. “You need to listen to me on this, Sarah. Sometimes a mother knows what’s best.”

“Sometimes, maybe. But I can tell you, Mama, that James is not for me. It’s just not going to work out.”

“But he’s so well spoken and funny too.”

“I know, but—”

“Nothing wooden in the dishwasher.” She took the wooden handled serving spoon from Sarah’s hands and started to wash it. “Once the newness wears off, it’s important that you and your husband have something in common, something to talk about.”

“Is that the case with you and Papa?”

“Oh yes,” she answered quickly. “And we still have a lot of fun. That’s what I want for you.” She turned to Sarah earnestly. “I want you to find that important someone to share your life with. You’ve been on your own too long, mija.”

“That’s what I want too, Mama, and I believe now that it’s possible. I want what you and Papa have, I do. You just have to trust me.”

Her mother nodded as she dried. “I can do that. Just don’t give up on James so quickly, and give me those little plates. They always flop around in the machine.” Sarah handed over the plate she was holding and wondered why they had the damn appliance in the first place.


*


“I can’t do it like you.” Grace sighed. “My hand won’t stay steady.”

“Yeah, you can. Keep your eye just a little bit ahead of your pencil.” Emory pointed to the white space in front of the point and laid out the path while snagging a bite of cookie dough from the nearby tube. “There. That’s more like it. See how nice that edge looks? You’re a natural.”

Grace looked up from the page in wonder. “I did it, Mom. I finished the outline of the vase. Look!”

Sarah had to admit, it wasn’t bad. It looked quite like a vase would. It was a nice vase, as far as vases went. “I’m impressed, Graciela. I think you’re my favorite child.”

Grace giggled. “I’m your only child.”

“Details.” Sarah stood behind Emory’s chair and placed her hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “Have you ever thought of offering lessons?”

“For spare cash?”

“Would you turn around so I can roll my eyes?” Sarah swatted her playfully. “No, smart aleck, for the intrinsic value. For art. You’re a very patient teacher, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when you draw, you become completely entranced in what you’re doing. It gets you going.”

Emory exhaled, conceding. “It always has.”

“Then you should do it more. Create something original.”

“Yeah,” Grace said. “If you like something, you should stick with it.”

“Thanks for the sage advice, short person.” Emory ruffled Grace’s curls in jest and began to put away the pencils, clearly ready to move on from the subject.

But Grace wasn’t finished and moved until she stood directly in front of Emory. “Will you paint something for me? Please? It can be anything.”

Emory didn’t know what to say. Grace looked so full of hope, and damn it, utterly adorable with those big brown eyes looking up at her.

But she couldn’t.

She hadn’t painted anything in years and it somehow felt like opening up a can of worms she’d rather not get into. She’d made decisions for her life and it was too late now to turn back. “I’m not sure I can do that, Grace. I’m sorry.”

“Why not? If you’re good at it and you like it—”

“Grace, Emory gave you an answer and she’s a grown-up.” There was the mom voice.

Grace closed her mouth and nodded obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, it’s already thirty minutes past your bedtime. Why don’t you go get dressed for bed? I’ll be right behind you to tuck you in.”

“All right, I’m exhausted anyway. Good night, Emory. Thanks for drawing with me.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

Grace moved to Emory with arms outstretched, prompting her to lean down to accept the hug fully. She held Grace in her arms, smiled at the kiss that was placed on her cheek, and watched as she scampered away to her bedroom. Emory was beginning to think she might be the sweetest kid ever.

“Be right back,” Sarah said, scratching Emory’s stomach as she passed.

It was fifteen minutes later when Sarah reappeared, and Emory tried unsuccessfully to suppress a yawn. It had been a long day, but she was anything but ready to say good night. She had to admit, there was something to be said for Sarah’s worn in, comfy couch.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” Sarah stood in front of the couch with her hands on her hips.

“What? You’re forgetting who you’re talking to. I pull all-nighters on a weekly basis. I don’t require sleep to live like the rest of you mortals.”

“Is that right? Did you work today?”

“A little this morning, and then before my run…and some after the run.”

“I see.” She sat next to Emory and tugged her arm, urging her to lie with her head in Sarah’s lap. “Question. Do you ever take the day off?”

“Answer. Once in a while, but there’s a lot on my plate.” Sarah played softly with Emory’s hair, moving her fingers between the thick strands and letting them drop.

“Mmm. That feels nice. Never stop doing this.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But does it excite you? Do you wake up in the morning thrilled to get to work?”

“Um, not exactly. But I don’t mind it either. It’s just what I do.”

“Don’t freak out at this question, but what if you had a family one day? You know, people who were waiting for you to come home for dinner at a reasonable hour, or you know, attend their Little League game?”

“Are you proposing to me?” Emory squeezed her knee with playful enthusiasm. She was evading.

“Not exactly.”

“How embarrassing.”

“Answer the question and stop stalling. I know your tactics.”

Faced with no other option, Emory pushed herself up on her arm and studied Sarah. “Well, the scenario you just described would change things for me quite a bit. If I’m answering honestly, I think I’d rather be at the Little League game.”

“But are you capable of that? Your whole life seems to be motivated by success and striving to be the best. It was instilled in you from a very young age.” There was doubt etched on Sarah’s face and it stung, because her own self-doubt was almost all she could shoulder.

“And that worries you?” Emory asked, sobering.

“Yes, it does.”

It worried her too. More than she wanted to express to Sarah in that moment. She’d known all along that she could crash and burn if she tried to settle down and play house, but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge that fact fully. Being with Sarah brought too much good into her life for her to ruin it with over analysis. “Maybe that’s not who I want to be anymore. I like who I am when we’re together.” It was the truth.

“So…the Little League game?”

Emory grinned as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “How could I miss it?” But Sarah’s question played on repeat in the back of her mind. Are you capable of that? The last thing in the world she wanted was to hurt Sarah and Grace. She had to do what was right for them. She made a silent promise to herself that that’s what she would do from this point forward.

No matter what that meant for her.

She would look out for them.

Sarah smiled and dipped her head so that their lips were just a breath apart and hovered. “I love how much I look forward to kissing you in the briefest second before it’s about to happen,” she murmured quietly. “It’s like my insides do this little backflip in anticipation of your mouth. It’s crazy.”

Emory tilted her head, closing in a tad more. She felt it too. “So that’s why you’re teasing me like this. You like the buildup.”

“Mmhmm. A lot.”

Emory raised her hand and cupped Sarah’s cheek, caressing it softly. Somehow, Sarah always managed to smell of lilac and cinnamon. Her new favorite aroma. It was intoxicating. She let the hand drift down her neck slowly, lingering on the very soft skin there, before continuing on its path downward. She let the tips of her fingers skim Sarah’s breast, outlining the dip of her bra. Sarah’s breath, which she could feel on her face, hitched noticeably. Emory palmed the breast and applied direct pressure. Sarah’s eyes shut tightly and as if on cue, she crushed her mouth to Emory’s and they were off.

It was only moments before Emory was flat on her back with a throbbing between her legs. They kissed, groped, and slid together with absolute perfection. She’d never had a woman excite her the way Sarah did. Passion was too common a term for what she felt. Desire too basic. Grasping for some sort of control, Emory rolled them over and pushed Sarah’s shirt up, needing the access desperately as their lips clung. Sarah moaned quietly and alarm bells went off in Emory’s head. She bolted upright, still straddling Sarah’s body. Concerned, Sarah sat up too.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”