Page 118 of The Fiancée Farce
“About whether you would go back in time and change things, if you could.”
Every questionable decision Tansy had made had brought her here, to this time, this place, standing on this corner, the amber streetlights bringing out the gold flecks in Gemma’s eyes, her lashes casting shadows against her cheeks each time she blinked. She was staring at Tansy like she was worth every penny of the six million dollars she’d promised.
No, that wasn’t right.
She was staring at Tansy like she was worthmore. Like she was priceless.
“I wouldn’t change a thing.” On the corner of Bell and 1st, hands trembling, Tansy hiccupped her heart. “I wouldn’t change a thing, because you? Gemma, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Gemma’s breath caught on a gasp so soft, so quiet, that Tansy might not have been able to hear her had it not been for the gap in traffic that left the street quiet and still. “Tansy, I don’t know what to say.”
Tansy’s heart fell, her hopes plummeting. “You don’t have to say a thing.”
“No.” Gemma gave a vehement shake of her head, hair escaping the claw clip holding her French twist in place. Her thumb continued to sweep circles against Tansy’s cheek. “That—that came out wrong. I don’t know what to say that would do what I’m feeling justice. Because it’s—it’s so much, Tansy.”
“Oh.” Tansy laughed, dizzy from the emotional whiplash. “That’s good.”
Gemma laughed and leaned in, pressing her forehead to Tansy’s. “Look, I don’t know how good I’m going to be at this wholewifething. Honestly, I’m scared shitless that I’m going to do something to fuck it up. That I’m going to fuck everything up.” She lifted her head and the intensity of her gaze stole Tansy’s breath, bowling her over. “But I promise I’m going to try. For you, I promise I’m going to do my best.”
Gemma always looked beautiful, but God, in that moment, she was radiant.
And there was nothing Tansy wanted to do more than kiss her.
She rose up onto her toes to do just that, and a huff of disappointment escaped her when Gemma stepped back. “You can’t just say a thing like that and not expect me to want to kiss you.”
“Oh Ican’t, can I?” Her brows rose and fell, taunting. “If you catch me, you can kiss me. Race you home.”
Gemma whirled away, dress swirling around her legs as she dashed across the street.
“Gemma, wait!” The light was still green, the walk signal red. Tansy glanced left, right, left again, before squealing softly and dashing out into the street. “Slow down!”
“I’m in the middle of the road!” The wind caught Gemma’s laughter and carried it away. “You might want to hurry up!”
A short, sharp honk came from the right, making Tansy squeal.
“Sorry, sorry!” Tansy held up her hands, apologizing to the driver, who was still far enough away that not only could he not hear her but he barely had to brake. She put a burst of speed behind her steps and hopped up onto the curb. Her purse bounced against her hip. “Gemma!”
Gemma kept running, the rest of her long, golden hair escaping her clip and cascading down her back. “I said it was a race!”
Hardly a fair one. Tansy didn’t stand a chance.
And Gemma seemed to know it. She made it to the mouth of the alley, then slowed, jogging the rest of the way to the bookstore’s rear entrance. She pressed her palms to the brick wall, the finish line, and threw her head back, whooping out a cheer of victory.
Tansy’s chest burned, the frigid air stinging her lungs, laughter giving her a stitch in her side. Then, all at once, the world went topsy-turvy as she pitched forward, her shoe catching on the sewer grate and sending her hurtling toward the ground.
“Oof.” Soft, strong arms broke her fall, her face planting in Gemma’s cleavage, of all places. An inappropriate giggle tore itself from her throat.
“Are you motorboating me?” Gemma sounded amused.
Now that she had started laughing, she couldn’t stop.
“No,” she managed to gasp out. “Don’t—be—ridiculous.”
“I don’t know.” Gemma drew out the words, tone teasing. She ran her fingers through Tansy’s hair. “It sure feels like you’re motorboating me. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Just didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.”
She rested her hands on Gemma’s shoulders and tried to stand up straight. “I’d hardly call this back alleypublic.”
“Well, well, well.” Gemma smirked. “Someone has a wild streak.”
