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Liz decides Forde won’t do before she has her blouse all the way off. She stares at him, doubts crowding out her prior acceptance after his unwanted commentary. Mark was bad enough—a necessity to get a night of sleep once a week. She’d developed a rapport with him. He knew what he was supposed to do: fuck her and keep his mouth shut.
She doesn’t want to repeat that learning process with Forde. What a stupid name. It brings to mind the lobby she’s fighting against and their smug, outdated ideas about women and pink and “female empowerment” as a buzzword. Her palms itch when she recalls that meeting, and she wishes she’d put Dupont even more firmly in his place. But she will.
And the delay will make her victory all the sweeter.
A shower and drink later, any taint of Forde erased by water and alcohol, after useless attempts at sleep, Liz calls Jane.
“It’s midnight,” Jane says, her usual greeting for Liz’s late night calls. She sounds sleepy; Liz envies that.
“So? Come over. You know where.” Midnight might as well be two in the afternoon. Time has little meaning for her. The locket on the nightstand beckons, but she hides it away without dipping inside for energy. A better option is coming.
A better person. One of the few she can stand. Liz wants silence, not more frenzy. She’s had too much of the latter, even if she thrives on never stopping and always thinking.
Jane shows up looking as if she rolled right out of bed after Liz’s call. A cami and worn flannel pants, coat thrown over the top. Her messenger bag is slung over a shoulder, as if they’re actually going to work. Meeting her at the door, Liz tosses bag and coat to the floor, making it clear why she’s called Jane here.
“Are we good?” she asks, hands sliding up Jane’s back. Tonight is the first time she’s called her since their very public separation at Cole Kravitz & Waterman. The risk is low: their phones are clean, so is her suite. No one will know.
This is safe. Jane is safe. She is safe.
“Yes.” The last hint of sleepiness clears Jane’s eyes as she undoes the sash of Liz’s robe. “Though I hate you sometimes, for leaving me in that pit.”
Liz scoffs and nudges her towards the bed. “You do not. You’re having the time of your life fooling everyone.”
“Maybe.” Jane shrugs, not hiding the satisfaction she obviously gets from running circles around the partners. “But I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Liz says softly. Mouth moving along Jane’s neck, she kisses along a familiar path to her bare shoulder. And she does miss her—though she’s working towards something worthy, she still needs her first right-hand woman.
The gaps between robe and clothing aren’t enough. Together they push off her robe, and then Liz yanks down Jane’s horrible pants, revealing much more tantalizing bare legs.
When Liz closes her eyes after, there’s only silence. Fatigue blurs the edges of her mind, slowing down the hundreds of thoughts that normally scroll like a stock ticker.
Her brain is so blessedly quiet she could fall asleep right now, but she doesn’t. The time right before she surrenders is far more restorative than popping uppers in private. The only sound is their breathing, harsh yet not, a welcome accompaniment to the mental fuzz.
Liz soaks in the peace for a long moment, letting it drape over her like the softest blanket. When she beckons, Jane cuddles up to her, glasses lost somewhere in the sheets. Liz soaks this in too: the warmth of skin on skin, soft breasts pressed against her side, rapid breaths on the back of her neck. When she chooses it, closeness isn’t a weakness.
“I brought clothes,” Jane murmurs sleepily. “I’m staying.”
Liz is no longer envious of that easy fatigue. Weariness settles in her bones, welcome and close at long last. “Smart woman,” she says, pushing herself against Jane, so they’re even closer. Liz dislikes touch, except when she needs it. Her ambitious fierceness keeps most from forming unwanted connections with her.
Jane is different. She understands the tempests that drive Liz and doesn’t judge. “One of the reasons you hired me.”
Liz corrects her. “One of many.” Pulling the covers over both of them, she closes her eyes again. “Your ability to read my mind is another.”
She needed Jane to stay.