Coffee Sonata (14 page)

“I took physics and chemistry at a private school and participated in a few sports. I also played in the school orchestra.” However, Manon cringed at some of the memories her words produced. “I was happiest when I was at the foundation, though.”

“Sounds like you were more comfortable around adults.”

“That’s true. I had to grow up quickly when my parents divorced and Jack…” Manon regretted her choice of words immediately, aghast that she could even mention Jack this casually. What was it about Eryn, a
reporter,
for heaven’s sake, that made her lower her guard like this? “Anyway,” she stumbled, “a lot changed in my teens that made life very different.”

“I read about your brother,” Eryn said, placing a hand over Manon’s. “You must miss him.”

The simple words cut through pain and anger—anger mostly directed at herself for being too softhearted and weak at this moment—and left Manon astonished.
I never let anyone talk to me about Jack. No one.

“Yes, I do.” The confession was even more staggering. Normally she immediately let people know, beyond any doubt, that Jack was off topic. “I loved him.”

“You still do. And he knows it, wherever he is.”

Simple words, and yet they warmed her heart, breaking through the ice that usually formed instantly when the topic of her brother’s death came up. “Thank you, Eryn.”
And bless you for not prying.

“I have two sisters,” Eryn said. “One older, one younger. My parents adore them.”

Pain, different from Manon’s, but nearly tangible, permeated Eryn’s voice. Manon held on more firmly to the warm hand in hers. “And you?”

“No.”

Manon waited, unwilling to inquire further, since Eryn hadn’t.

“I’m a disappointment and have been since I was sixteen.”

Eryn’s face paled, but her eyes were bright in the dim light. A shimmer of tears? Manon said gently, “I can’t imagine that.”

“I don’t fit their mold of a good daughter. Well, I guess my father could’ve come around if he wasn’t so intimidated by my mother.”

“And your sisters?”

“They’re not like my parents. They detest being favorites, and my younger sister drives my mother half insane by bringing up ‘the issue’ at least once a week, bless her heart.”

“The issue?” Slightly bewildered, Manon had to ask.

“The fact that I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh.” Silence hung between them. Manon wasn’t surprised, exactly, but to have Eryn’s sexual preference out in the open galvanized all her own fears. She knew she sounded rigid, unyielding, but her inner alarm system wouldn’t allow her to relax.

Eryn studied her intently for a few seconds, then pulled back her hand, her eyes tired. “I see,” she said quietly, with a tone of finality. “You too.”

*

Oh, God, no!
Mike wanted to cry in frustration. Instead, she pressed her lips against the top of Vivian’s head and muffled her sobs. Vivian needed reassurance and support, not an emotional weakling who needed comfort herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Vivian,” Mike managed, hugging her closer. “How long have you known?”

“Two months.” Vivian spoke in a dull voice, as if trying to stay detached from the horror. “In that time, my sight has slowly deteriorated. Days like last Monday are quite bad, and every day like that makes me lose more of my vision.”

“And have the doctors told you how long…” Mike didn’t want to sound too clinical, but really wanted to know.

“Within a year, perhaps much faster. It all depends on my individual version of this disease.” She sighed against Mike’s neck. “I’m sorry to unburden on you. You have enough on your plate with the café.”

“No, no. I don’t mind. Feel free to tell me anything.” Mike hated to think Vivian would be all alone to deal with such a loss. Then she had a new thought. “Unless you already have someone to confide in.”

Vivian tipped her head back, smiling with sorrow. “You’re the third person I’ve told, after Malcolm and Manon.”

“You need to talk to someone. A friend.” Mike felt her cheeks grow warm, and she stumbled over her words. “I…I hope you think of me as a friend.”
At least.

“I know a lot of people, but I have very few friends,” Vivian murmured and scrutinized her.

Mike wondered if her illness distorted the way Vivian saw her.

“You’re special to me,
cara
.”

Special? What does that mean?
Mike wanted to ask but was afraid to push too hard. Her hands were tingling from holding Vivian in her arms, and it was difficult to breathe. She stroked Vivian’s back, trying to comfort her, and felt an undeniable guilty pleasure at the touch.

“I’m glad,” Mike murmured. “I know we’ve known each other for only a week, but…I want to be here. For you.” Annoyed with herself for almost stuttering, Mike spontaneously kissed Vivian’s forehead. Her skin was smooth and the fragrance from Vivian’s hair pleasing. “I don’t mean to overstep any boundaries—”

“Shh.” Vivian cupped the back of Mike’s head. “Kisses don’t hurt. I would never want to hurt you, Mike.”

“I believe you. I do.” Mike swallowed against impending tears and felt tender. She couldn’t just switch from hiding her heart in a foxhole to trusting implicitly, but she had to reward Vivian’s faith in her. She couldn’t hold back human contact, physical or emotional.
But, damn, I haven’t been this close to having my heart broken again in years.
Keeping her distance from people worked well most of the time, except when the person in front of her was hurting.
What’s a broken heart compared to becoming blind?

Vivian squinted and laced her fingers through Mike’s hair. “I know you don’t quite trust me, and one of these days you’re going to have to share your reason.”

Startled, Mike stiffened. “There’s really nothing very interesting to say—”

“Didn’t you hear me,
cara
? Not tonight. We’re fine, for tonight.” Vivian leaned her head to the side and rested it against Mike’s upper arm. “Now I have something entirely different to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“You took me by surprise. The way you kissed me, the way it felt.” Vivian blushed faintly. “I’d like to try again. A little more prepared.”

Oxygen. None. Mike forced air into her lungs. “Vivian!” Vivian’s eyes filled Mike’s entire field of vision—beautiful, glittering, and unwavering.

“Yes.”

Mike lowered her gaze to Vivian’s full mouth, slightly parted as a smile played at its corners. Filled with equal parts desire and dread, Mike leaned forward and hovered above Vivian for a breathless moment, afraid she might unleash all her built-up passion.

Vivian closed the last bit of distance, pulled Mike’s head closer, and raised her own. And she initiated the trembling embrace. Brushing her lips along Mike’s, she nibbled at them. Mike whimpered helplessly when pleasure blossomed in the pit of her stomach and flew down between her thighs.

“Vivi…”

“Mmm,” Vivian murmured against her mouth. Mike felt the tip of Vivian’s tongue explore the outline of her lips.
She’s not gay! She’s not. How can she kiss me like this?

Convinced she was going to self-combust, Mike gasped.

Vivian could barely hear Mike’s sharp intake of air over the thunder of her own heart. Mike’s mouth was over hers, Mike lying half on top of her. And still it was Vivian who instigated the kiss.

Vivian could never have prepared for those incredible, soft, soft lips that parted readily.
Forgive me. I have to.
She slid her tongue inside and tasted a woman’s, Mike’s, mouth for the first time. She’d kissed the air next to other women’s well-made-up faces a million times and allowed quite a few men to devour her lips with more or less skill, but…this? This was entirely different.

When Mike’s tongue met hers and pushed, caressed, tentatively, but with increasing passion, Vivian could no longer remain careful. Her emotions ran high, and she invested much more in this kiss than she’d ever thought possible.

She pulled Mike closer and leaned back against the armrest. Lying with Mike on top of her, she tilted her head to allow for more ardent kisses.

Mike followed her easily, exploring Vivian’s mouth with equal parts fervor and tenderness. “Vivi,” she murmured, “I didn’t count on this. I just wanted to be…your friend.”

“You are.” Vivian could hardly believe her own body’s reactions. Sweat beaded on her temples and between her breasts. Her thighs shook and she squirmed beneath Mike’s legs, fighting the urge to part them and engulf her. “You…are.” She kissed Mike again and groaned in the back of her throat when Mike slid a knee between hers.

Mike broke free and straightened her arms. The sudden distance between them made Vivian feel cold, and she stared up through her dishevel hair, trying to gauge Mike’s expression.

“We have to slow down,” Mike panted. “Please, Vivian.”

“I know.”

“Too fast.”

“Yes. I agree. Just let me hold you a little longer.” The thought of losing the connection was unbearable.

Mike hesitated, looking down at Vivian with smoldering eyes. “We’re playing with fire.”

“I won’t burn you,
cara
.”

“What if I end up hurting you?”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mike asked, still on rigid arms above Vivian.

“Instincts, intuition…come here.” Vivian pulled at Mike, who slowly gave in, lowering herself to the couch. “There.”

It was a blessing to just lie there, with human touch,
Mike’s
touch, instead of her cold and lonely bed where only Perry and Mason noticed if she took her next breath. Shaken by her ominous thoughts, Vivian held Mike closer, again hiding her face against her neck.

Mike stroked Vivian’s arm in slow, languid motions, as if trying to lull her to sleep.

“Pain is part of life,” Vivian murmured.

“But I would never deliberately hurt you. I promise.”

Vivian knew then that Mike had suffered more emotional agony than most. She kissed Mike on the neck and vowed to never add to those wounds.

*

Eryn’s head pounded and she wished she could take some pills right away, instead of in four hours. Most of all, she wished she could take back her last words. She glanced down at her blunt, short nails and let her index finger trace the pattern on the blue blanket.

“Eryn. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Eryn raised her eyes and prepared for the all-too-familiar expression, the one her mother assumed as soon as she walked into her childhood home. Instead she saw regret and something else, something unreadable, on Manon’s face.

“I’d already guessed. It wasn’t that hard, after what you told me in the car the other day.” Manon blushed faintly but reached out and took Eryn’s restless hand in hers. “I’m not like your parents. I don’t consider sexual preference when it comes to friendship.”

Eryn didn’t believe her. She’d noticed something, a shudder as if someone had walked across Manon’s grave, when Eryn told her the truth. “It’s all right,” she said, recoiling. “It really doesn’t matter, does it? I’m just an unexpected guest on your couch, right?”

“No, please. You’re not merely any guest, Eryn. I’ve never met anyone like you, so give me a chance to get to know you better.” Manon’s words came out in the same measured, collected way she always spoke, and yet she sounded almost frantic.

“Perhaps it would be better if I went down to my own place and—”

“No, you can’t. It’s not safe. You’ve hit your head. Eryn…” Manon leaned forward, her hand placed firmly against Eryn’s uninjured shoulder.

Eryn wondered if Manon was backtracking, insisting she stay because of political correctness, since, after all, Eryn was a reporter for the local paper.
It wouldn’t do to let anyone assume the head of the Belmont Foundation was a bit of a homophobe, would it?
Eryn immediately regretted her ungrateful thoughts.
I’m no better. Didn’t I give her the poor-little-rich-girl remark just the other day? Loosen up.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stay. Your couch is more comfy than my bed, actually.” Eryn gave a self-deprecating grin. “I’m so damn sore.”

“Your shoulder?” Manon seemed relieved, most likely because they were moving away from the hot topic of Eryn’s sexuality.

“Yeah. It burns like hell.”

“Here. Let me rub it.” Manon moved closer. “No wonder it aches. You’re black and blue. And the sling has twisted. There.” She gingerly moved the sling around and unwound it. “Better?”

“Thank you…yes.” Relief and fatigue flooded Eryn and made her less careful about what she said. “I want to get to know you too. I’m just so tired of criticism about something I’d never change even if I could.”

“I’d never criticize you for anything like that.” Manon moved her hand in small circles around Eryn’s aching shoulder. “Whether you believe it or not, that’s not who I am or what I’m about.”

“Who are you? What are you about, exactly?” Eryn managed to open her eyes and look up at the austere woman next to her.

Manon appeared at a loss for words. She kept her hands on Eryn’s shoulder and stroked it as her face became pensive. “I’ll be damned if I know.”