The Right Time (51 page)

“Then tell me what happened,” Hennessy said, desperate for details. Some part of her was sure things would all make sense if she just had details. Her pulse was hammering in her veins, all sorts of images flooding her imagination. It was torture, but she had to know.

“I don’t think that’s smart.” Her head shook decisively. “But I want you to know this caught me by surprise.” She swallowed, looking like she was going to cry again. “I was down about your leaving for France—”

“Wait!” Hennessy said sharply. “This just happened?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“Why were you two together? Why wasn’t she back in Utah?” She dropped her face into her hands. “I don’t even know where you spent the summer.”

“We were in Vermont. My sponsor is there…it’s safer.”

“Jenna doesn’t have a sponsor.”

“No, she doesn’t. But she wants to graduate early, so she took a full load of courses this summer.”

“Shit,” Hennessy muttered. “Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks. I could have skipped working with Daddy and hightailed it back up here.”

Townsend gazed at her for a minute. “You didn’t.” Her eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared. “You could have come back to see me…to tell me you’re more certain about your sexuality, to ask me to wait for you…but you didn’t.”

“Daddy needs the help…” She trailed off, knowing she was talking out of both sides of her mouth.

Townsend held a hand up, showing she’d heard enough. “I told Jenna how hurt I was that you didn’t come up early or invite me down to Beaufort.” Her voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. “I told her I didn’t know where we stood, and that I thought you were afraid to dive in because of my drinking.”

“I’m not!”

“I said what I felt, Hennessy. That’s all I can do.”

Her gut twisted with anger, regret, shame. She was such a child! So unsure of Townsend’s resolve she’d let her slip right through her fingers. “So you decided to have sex with Jenna because I’m afraid of you.”

“No, of course not. I swear I’d never picked up on her being interested in me. I guess I wasn’t looking for it.” Lifting a hand, she rubbed at her temple for a moment. “I’ve never tried to be friends with anyone I didn’t want to fuck. I wasn’t sure how close you were supposed to get, wasn’t sure about anything…”

Hennessy felt a burst of empathy, in spite of her anguish and anger. Townsend was like a child in so many things most women their age had done dozens of times. Making and keeping a friend, something so simple, seemed to confuse the living hell out of her.

“She told me she was really attracted to me, and if I had feelings for her, too, she’d do her best to get rid of the bullshit her church and her family have been bombarding her with.”

Hennessy’s empathy floated away on the wind. Her voice was harsh when she said, “So you took her up on her offer.”

“Yes, I did. I still don’t know if I did the right thing, but I did what I thought was right. I don’t mean to sound like a saint, but my heart really went out to her. For a girl like her to fight through all of the shit she’s been told… I have a lot of respect for her trying to see if this is right for her.”

“And that’s enough?” Hennessy was stunned. “Feeling sorry for her? Feeling bad she’s had a bunch of negative messages is enough to make you go to bed with her?”

“I think it is,” she said, nodding with surprising confidence. “I need to spread my wings a little and get some experience. So does Jenna.” She stared at Hennessy with heat in her gaze. “I don’t feel like she’s my life raft. I don’t feel like I have to hold onto her or die.”

Her head spun, making her fear she’d vomit. Gripping the arms of her seat with a ferocious grip, she spit out the craziness of Townsend’s logic. “So you’re with her because she’s
less
good at making you feel safe. Because she loves you
less
than I do.”

It took another few moments for Townsend to speak. “I don’t use people anymore,” she said quietly. “I’ve told Jenna exactly how I feel about you. Neither of us thinks that we’ll be together until the bitter end. She’s just starting to deal with her feelings for women and she wants to see where those feelings lead her. I know what I want, but I didn’t think I’d ever get it—so I dove in.”

Her heart slowed its beat, as her blood pressure plummeted. Only one question mattered, and it mattered more than anything. Her voice shook, but she got it out. “Do you love her?”

“No.” She shook her head briskly. “But I think I could. She’s kind and thoughtful and a very good person. She’s a lot like you, Hennessy, and that’s why I’m willing to take a chance on this relationship.”

“And Jenna’s okay with the fact that you’re feelings are…divided at best?”

“I told her everything. That’s all I can do. I told her I’m not ready to settle down and get married, and that I’m in the market for a girlfriend, not a wife. I can’t be more honest than that.”

“And then you had sex.”

“That’s almost beside the point for me. I’m…I’m learning how to be open to another person.”

“What does that mean? You’ve always been open with me.”

“Sex is different,” Townsend said flatly. “I’ve been doing everything through a haze of alcohol since my first kiss. I’ve never been vulnerable with another person. I’ve never really shown anyone how my desire’s connected to my heart. It’s a whole new experience, and it’s been pretty amazing. Sometimes it’s terrifying, but sometimes it’s such a blissful feeling that I’m simply blown away.”

“I wanted to be the one to blow you away,” Hennessy said, her calm facade crumbling as she dissolved into sobs.

“I wanted that, too. But we might still have that one day. We might.”

She shivered, trying hard to control herself. Blubbering like a baby wasn’t going to help a damned thing. Consciously, she let Townsend’s words really sink in. No way. No
fucking
way. Her head shook sharply. “You’ve made your choice. I’d prefer it if we can just be friends from now on. I can’t have it any other way.”

“All right,” Townsend said quietly, as tears started to leak out once again.

She’d caused those tears. She’d used her words to take a swipe out of her. And she didn’t feel a hint of regret. Coldly, she looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”

But Townsend was a glutton for punishment. Instead of slinking away with her tail between her legs, she stood, held out her hands and pulled Hennessy to her feet. “Go to Paris. Enjoy it with every fiber of your being. Eat the food, drink a tiny bit of the wine, soak up the beautiful light. Be a kid, Hennessy. Be the kid you’ve spent the last ten years trying not to be.”

She nodded, unwilling to respond.

“Do you want me to write to you?”

Hennessy looked at her for a long time, gazing at the foreign planes of her face, unable to recognize the stranger before her. The thought of being in a new country, with no ties to the old one, was the only way. “I don’t think so. We’ve both got things to work out.”

Townsend bit her lip, tears flowing again. “I love you,” she said softly.

Hennessy hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, stared into those watery eyes for a moment, and said what would probably be her final words to the woman who made her world spin. “I wish you’d loved me enough to wait for me.”

Being away from home
for the holidays was kind of awful. While Paris was everything she’d hoped for and more, Hennessy carried around a longing, a gnawing emptiness that caught her by surprise again and again.

Part of the longing was for her family, of course. She craved her gramma’s voice, to be enfolded in her rough embrace and smell the flecks of oil from the fryer that had become an integral part of her scent. Her eyes closed and her mouth started to water when she thought of Gramma’s oyster stew—what she’d give for a bowl of that right about now.

But it was Christmas in Paris, not Beaufort. Although it was cold and windy, it was also kinda magical. Christmas markets, buche de Noel in the épicerie, the magical lights trailing down the Champs Elysées. Everything was so different from home, it hardly seemed like the same planet.

In only four months, she’d gotten comfortable enough to move around the city and make herself understood—a big feat, given she had trouble sometimes in Boston. It helped to have American friends, of course.

Particularly Kate.

Hennessy looked across the living room of the suite Kate’s parents had rented for their family visit. If you were going to spend a ton of dough on a hotel room, it made a lot of sense to do it in Paris. Hennessy hadn’t been in many hotel rooms, but anyone would think this one was special. If Napoleon and Josephine came walking through the very tall doors leading to one of the bedrooms, she wouldn’t have blinked an eye. They would have fit right in.

Kate fit in too, which was surprising. A city girl from Chicago, as brainy as she was beautiful, she stretched out on a velvet chaise longue, sipping her tea.

“We should get back to our rooms,” she said, looking about as contented as a cat lying in the sun. “We’ll need to dress up for the reveillon.”

Hennessy raked her teeth over her bottom lip nervously. This was going to be tough to get out of. “Uhm, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” Kate sat up a little straighter. Golden hair, silky and straight as a pin, settled atop one shoulder, the black turtleneck highlighting the breadth of the shoulders she’d honed during her years of competitive swimming. Of course, nearly everything Kate did was competitive.

“Your parents would probably rather it just be the four of you for dinner. It’s Christmas, Kate. That’s family time.”

Kate stood and adjusted her jeans, getting them settled just right on her hips, then she moved across the spacious room and perched on the arm of Hennessy’s chair.

Having her close like this? Sweet torture. It was true what they said about a perfume tantalizing enough to drive a man—or a woman—crazy. She didn’t wear much, just enough to tickle your nose when you were close.

“You’re being silly,” Kate said, her rich alto voice as smooth as satin. “We want you to join us. Come on,” she teased, poking at Hennessy with a finger. “Come on. You know you want to. You can’t resist a big, traditional, French Christmas dinner.”

She was so damned lighthearted and playful. Who could look at her perfect, angular features and sky blue eyes and refuse her anything?

“I truly don’t want to be an imposition. My gramma didn’t complain, but I know she would have rather have had me alone at Christmas.” As always, just thinking about that magical time with Townsend made her breath catch. If she could get back the hours she’d spent crying over her, she’d have an extra month.

“My parents aren’t like that,” Kate soothed. Her hand went to Hennessy’s head and playfully ruffled her hair. “Come on now. Let’s go get ready. I want to hear you charm a waiter with your accent.”

“I don’t
have
an accent,” Hennessy maintained, one of their long-standing jokes. “I’m speaking perfect French. I bet I don’t sound a bit different than my great-great-great grandparents when they left France.”

“Maybe that’s why they left,” Kate teased. “They were sick and tired of everyone saying, ‘Pourriez-vous répéter, se il vous plaît?’”

“They were not begging people to repeat themselves.” Hennessy stood, taking in a big breath to keep Kate’s scent in her lungs for an extra minute. For as much as she told herself it bothered her, she sure seemed to spend a lot of time seeking it out. “You win this round. But one of these days…”

Kate stood and let a hand settle on Hennessy’s shoulder. Every time she did that, an electrical charge shot down Hennessy’s arm. Half the time her nipples hardened. Not too embarrassing. “I know. You’re going to take me down to South Carolina and fill me up with the world’s best food.”

Their eyes met, and Hennessy had to smack her lips together to get some moisture back into her mouth. Looking Kate straight in the eyes wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m counting the days,” she promised, and Hennessy was once again pretty certain she wasn’t just talking about visiting the palmetto state. That scared the pee out of her. But she didn’t know how to stop herself from wanting to burrow into that sexy body and let Kate’s tantalizing perfume carry her away.

Townsend lay pressed up against a cool, stucco wall, with Jenna draped along her back. They’d silently moved the dresser to block the door before they’d gone to bed, after which Jenna spent fifteen minutes worrying about how they’d explain the blocked door if her mom or sister tried to open it.

They’d been in Italy for six days, and while making love was out of the question—not even up for discussion, really—Townsend refused to let herself focus on that. Sex clearly wasn’t the main driver of their relationship. Maybe that’s just how it was when you were committed to someone. You gave up the wild, driving beat of lust for the safety, security, and comfort of sharing your life with someone. It really wasn’t a bad exchange.

Her back was getting stiff, and Townsend shifted her hips to be able to turn over. Jenna’s hazy blue eyes fluttered open, then a sweet, satisfied smile settled onto her expressive mouth. “I love waking up next to you,” she whispered. Townsend was pretty sure she was keeping her voice low so her mom wouldn’t hear, which she could only do if she was standing outside the door with a stethoscope anyway, but that was fine. Her voice was sexier when she whispered.