Page 142 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
“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. Ahouse.” 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.
EPILOGUE
