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Chapter Text

The notion had been swarming in her brain like honey bees around a hive since Bradley had dropped her coffee cup on the pavement the day before. It had been years since she’d kissed a woman. Back then, the person who’d captured her attention was a bartender at a honky tonk in Wheeling known for their stiff drinks and dart tournaments. Roxy was a slender woman with naturally curly hair who wore Wranglers with a white tank top over a lacy black bra. She was a good conversationalist who often poured drinks just the way Bradley liked them—on the house. She knew the attractive bartender just wanted to keep her bellied up to the bar just a little longer when the free drinks started flowing towards the end of the evening. They’d kissed once in the back alley after Roxy’s shift, but it didn’t live up to the hype Bradley had anticipated. 

Seven years later in the back seat of a sedan, her heart pounds as she considers kissing Laura Peterson. Laura’s preference for women was no secret—she’d been outed in the late 90s and became the first out lesbian news reporter in the country. Bradley had followed Laura’s career over the years, though she never quite had the self-awareness to identify why she’d been attracted to Laura in the first place other than her professional reporting style. After all, Bradley didn’t define herself as gay; she didn’t define herself as anything. 

Somewhere between 6^th and 7^th Avenue, Laura sits next to her with her usual calm demeanor while Bradley wonders if her heart might jump out of her chest.

“Do you mind if I ask a personal follow up question just between us?” 

“Sure, you can ask me anything.” Bradley hopes the question will be more personal than professional.  

Last night at the hotel bar, they’d begun talking about their younger years, but neither woman had the chance to ask the more burning questions before last call. Laura hoped to do just that in the back seat of the hired car. 

She turns more fully towards Bradley. “Did you actually get vetted for this job?” 

Bradley’s pulse quickens as she stares at her for a beat, then glances at her lips. It’s now or never. She lunges forward, kissing Laura while sucking in a deep breath through her nose. She pulls back, unable to determine what the other woman is thinking. “I’m sorry, I just…” 

Laura places a hand on the side of Bradley’s head and returns the kiss, changing angles and relishing in the way her soft, supple lips feel. Just as Bradley’s hand moves around the back of Laura’s head to pull her closer, Laura leans her forehead against Bradley’s. 

She closes her eyes, hand still resting over Bradley’s ear. “I can’t.” 

“But you…” Bradley wrinkles her brow—she’d stopped kissing Laura and apologized only to be met with Laura’s lips on hers seconds later. “I thought…” 

“If the circumstances were different, the outcome of this car ride would be as well.” Laura removes her hand and sits back, tugging at her sweater. “I’m seeing someone.” 

“Oh, right…Of course, yes,” Bradley shakes her head, looks at her lap and fidgets with the ring on her finger, feeling like she just made a colossal mistake. “Sorry, I had no idea.” 

“How could you have known?” Laura lifts her shoulders. “You and I hit it off yesterday; I enjoyed spending time with you. It’s not a total surprise something like this might’ve happened.” 

She nods with her head still bowed, embarrassed for having planted an unwelcome kiss on the veteran reporter. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“For what it’s worth, I enjoyed it.” She lifts Bradley’s chin with two fingers until their eyes meet. “But I can’t, you know?”  She didn’t regret participating in the kiss for a few seconds longer; besides, she’d pulled away before things spiraled out of control—something Laura could easily see happening with Bradley if she wasn’t in a committed relationship.

“Yeah.” Bradley’s lips quirk to the side and she hopes her cheeks don’t appear as red as they feel. “I had fun with you yesterday; I guess I just got caught up in that feeling.” She tucks a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear. “I also wanted to avoid your question.” 

Laura smiles. “Like I said, your response stays between us.” 

She tilts her head. “So, you knew I wasn’t vetted?” 

“I figured as much, yes.” A laugh lingers in her chest. “Not that you haven’t held your own. I meant what I said in the parking lot—you’re a dynamo, Bradley. You don’t need coaching; just keep doing what you’re doing.” 

The car stops and the driver opens his door. 

“I really appreciate that.” Bradley smiles, then glances out the window to confirm they’ve arrived at the Archer Gray. “I guess this is my stop.” 

“Even though I’m seeing someone…” Laura squeezes her knee. “That doesn’t mean we can’t hang out again, next time maybe not as a work assignment.” 

Her smile becomes more pronounced. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Good.” Laura grins as the driver opens the passenger door. “I’ll be in touch.” 

Bradley doesn’t offer her number, but she’s certain someone as well-connected as Laura Peterson could get anyone’s digits within minutes. 

Much to her consternation, Laura found Bradley’s kiss thrilling. On her walk to work, she touches her lips and grins. While she never expected Bradley to make such a bold move, she enjoyed it more than she probably should have. Laura had told the truth—she couldn’t take things further because she was seeing someone; however, she couldn’t prevent herself from acknowledging Bradley is as beautiful as she is intriguing. Laura did want to get to know her better, but a mere two weeks ago, she and Simone had decided to enter a monogamous relationship. Nevertheless, she found Bradley refreshingly honest and humble—traits she didn’t find in most women these days. 

“Morning, Lisa.” She breezes into her office with two cups, placing one on her assistant’s desk. “The Coffee Hut has cinnamon lattes back on the menu.” 

“My favorite.” Lisa smiles, grabbing the cup. “Thank you.” 

Gordon appears by her side. “Where’s mine?”

Laura side-eyes him. “Since when do you drink coffee?” 

“Never, but it’s the thought that counts.” 

She reaches into her bag. “Diet Coke, then?” 

“Just when I think I’ve cornered you…” He takes the can and grins. “You do something considerate like this.” 

“Considerate is my middle name,” Laura replies through a satisfied grin before turning to her assistant. “I’d like to send Bradley Jackson a gift.” 

“Anything particular in mind?” Lisa enquires. 

She pulls out her phone, flashing a photo of what she’d discovered online. “I’ll write a note to send along with it.” 

“Sounds good.” Lisa turns to her computer. “Anything else?” 

She tucks the phone back in her pocket. “Get me Bradley’s cell phone number if you can.” 

“I’m on it.” 

“Thank you.” 

Gordon begins walking down the hallway, pausing after two steps to wait for her. “Bradley was surprisingly good in Iowa.” 

“Why surprisingly?” She agrees Bradley was a delightful surprise, but she’s curious to hear Gordon’s thoughts. 

He shrugs. “She just seemed more in her element interviewing political pundits than reporting light-hearted news on The Morning Show.” 

“I agree.” She leaves it at that—no sense waxing poetic about how much Bradley impressed her. “What’s on the agenda today?” 

He runs down their list of meetings and interviews for the day, then Laura immediately dives into the first task of reading Deval Patrick’s bio. About three paragraphs in, her thoughts stray to Bradley and the way her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as if she were in a L’Oréal ad. Her smile, Laura thinks, is something to behold—perfectly straight, bright white teeth and supple lips that when spread wide enough, expose a dimple on her left cheek. 

She sits back in her chair, tapping the top of a pen against her lips as she thinks about their kiss for what feels like the hundredth time in 24 hours. From observing Bradley in person and watching reels of her work, she figured Bradley was fearless, but she had no idea she’d be courageous enough to kiss her. As far as Laura knows, Bradley is straight—her name hadn’t been mentioned in the small lesbian community of broadcast journalists. Surely if Bradley liked women, she would’ve gotten wind of it. Laura acknowledges the kiss was mostly to hide her answer to the vetting question, but there were other means by which Bradley could’ve avoided a response.   

There were no two ways about it—Bradley wanted to kiss her perhaps even before she laid one on her in the car. She refuses to examine her conscience too closely for fear of what it would reveal about her own desire, reminding herself of the commitment she made to Simone Moreau, the actress playing Nini in Moulin Rouge who’d captured her attention a few months ago. 

Laura rolls her neck, hearing the tendons pop and reminding her she needs to schedule a massage soon. Someone knocks on the door, startling her musings.  

She sits up straight, holding the desk to tuck herself in and hoping to appear as if she’s been knee deep in work. “Come in.” 

Lisa pokes her head in. “I found the gift for Bradley, but I’m going to have to pick it up across town.” 

“Thank you.” Laura opens a desk drawer. “I’ll write the note now.” 

“Oh, and I just texted her mobile number to you.” 

She smiles as she twits the top of her Mont Blanc pen. “I appreciate it.” 

“No problem.” Lisa closes the door, and Laura begins writing a note to the woman whom she’d been thinking about for the last 15 minutes. 

Bradley walks back to her dressing room eager to be finished with the post-show meeting that lasted an hour longer than usual. Their coverage of Covid-19 is amping up and she knows she has her work cut out for her, learning how these types of viruses spread and finding out if there’s a vaccine in the works. 

She turns to RJ as she places a hand on the doorknob. “Anything else before I leave?”  

“I think that’s it for today,” he responds. “Oh, someone sent you a gift. I put it on your desk.” 

Bradley steps inside and notices a sparkling blue bag with white tissue framing the opening. “Who’s it from?” 

He shrugs. “No idea.” 

She moves further into the room, then spins around. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, RJ.” 

“Bright and early.” He shuts the door on his way out. 

She peeks into the bag and plucks out a small envelope.  

I meant what I said in Iowa—you’re a dynamo. Looking forward to getting to know you better. 

Cheers, 

Laura 

Her heart swells as a smile takes over her face. Although she was self-conscious after kissing Laura, she hoped it wasn’t entirely one-sided. Laura could’ve pulled away immediately, saying she was seeing someone, but she kissed her back even after Bradley apologized. That wasn’t lost on her, and it filled her heart with something she couldn’t quite name. Was it glee? Anticipation? Desire? 

She reaches into the bag, pulling out a bottle of Scotch. On the lower part of the ivory-colored label she reads the name: Dynamo Kiev. Bradley’s smile extends at the thoughtfulness of such a gift. If she had the gift bearer’s number, she would’ve texted to express her gratitude. 

As Bradley changes clothes and prepares to leave, she thinks about what it might be like to hang out with the illustrious Laura Peterson. They’d had a good time in Iowa, especially at the hotel bar when they chatted and laughed over a couple Old Fashioneds. They probably could’ve stayed several more hours had it not been closing time. Perhaps if nothing else, Laura could become a new friend—Bradley didn’t have many close friends, so this, she thinks, could be good for her. The only thing nagging her is a deep and growing attraction to the enigmatic Laura Peterson. 

Bradley arrives at home with the bag of Scotch dangling from her arm, wishing she could’ve erased Laura from her mind all day, knowing she’s in a relationship. She shuts the door and leans against it when her phone vibrates in her coat pocket. She pulls it out and sees a text message from an unknown number. 

Did you receive my gift? 

Her lips flip up when she realizes the woman who has occupied her thoughts all day tracked down her phone number. Bradley pushes away from the door and starts typing:You didn’t have to buy me anything. 

Hope you like Scotch. 

Love it. Thank you. She sets the bottle on the desk, then contemplates what to write next. She’d already had one failed attempt at risk taking, and Bradley thinks she should probably quit after that.  

She removes her coat, then sits on the sofa, tapping her fingers against the phone and trying to remember the last time anyone made her feel…valued. It wasn’t her last two boyfriends, and it certainly wasn’t her parents. Hal had moments when he let her know she was special, but that was more out of neediness and Bradley’s desire to ensure he was making wise choices. It’s different with Laura—she makes Bradley feel seen and heard. She complimented her on her broadcasting skills as well as her ability to relate to people, and it didn’t end there. It seemed any time there was an opening for Laura to say something kind, she took it. Bradley can’t deny she wants to spend more time with the veteran reporter, so why is she pussy footing around?

She brings the device back to life and types: The only thing that would make it better is sharing it with you. 

Laura has the corkscrew twisted halfway into a bottle of Zinfandel when her phone chirps. She abandons the task and opens the text, grin slowly forming as she reads Bradley’s response. One thing is for certain—the younger woman hasn’t shied away from flirting. She knows she should put her phone away and let a little time pass before reaching out to Bradley again, but that seems like an impossible task.  

She returns to the bottle of wine, yanks the cork out, then sets it on the counter and exhales a long breath. Women often flirt with her, and she’s always flattered, but she never expected Bradley Jackson to be one of those women. Maybe her radar is broken and she’s misreading the signals. That can’t be true—Bradley had kissed her—there was no misreading that. 

She scratches her head and lifts her phone off the counter, staring at their text thread and sighing. She shouldn’t interact any more than she already has, yet she finds herself replying, Are you inviting me over? 

Bradley kicks off her shoes, then turns on the evening news. Just as she takes a seat, she notices her phone light up. She reads the text and smiles. She knows Laura is in a relationship, but she also knows flirting when she sees it. She bites the inside of her cheek as she debates how to respond.  

She does want Laura to come over, but at what cost? Then again, Bradley thinks, they’re both adults. What would be so bad about getting to know each other?  

Room 634 @ the Archer Gray, Bradley writes, hoping she’s playing this correctly. 

Laura tosses her head back, closing her eyes and thinking about Simone. Everything about the actress is appealing—she’s smart, funny, attractive and gainfully employed. Simone is also closer in age, plus they have similar upbringings. When they decided to make their relationship exclusive, Laura was certain it had been the right time and Simone was the right woman. Then Bradley unexpectedly waltzed into her life. Laura had no idea she’d be attracted to the TMS co-anchor, yet during their time together in Iowa, the more she observed Bradley, the more interested she became. What she’d told her was true—Bradley is a dynamo who doesn’t need coaching like Cory had suggested. She’d proven to be professional yet approachable.

Laura pours a glass of red wine, then moves to the living room, thoughts about Bradley still swirling in her head. Bradley is beautiful—there’s no denying that—it’s categorically true. Her smile could light up a small village and her eyes are this deep, cerulean blue Laura has never encountered. She can admit to herself she’s attracted to the blonde, but she would never act on that attraction while in a relationship.

She sips the wine and tries thinking back to a time when she was seeing someone and talking to other women simultaneously. Laura dated often in her younger years, but the older she got, the harder it became to find compatibility. She’d never cheated on any of her partners in the past and had no intention of doing so with Bradley or anyone else who came along.  

She takes another longer sip and decides there’s no harm in having a drink, but not tonight. She writes back: Tomorrow evening work for you?

Bradley stares at the unopened bottle of Scotch, wondering if Laura will show up. She tries distracting herself with the news, but her thoughts drift to Laura and the way she looked at her in Iowa. Laura could convey more with the tilt of her head than most people could with a litany of words. She’d enjoyed watching Laura’s expression shift from serious to playful within seconds. She also liked how at ease Laura was around her not only in the field but also at the hotel bar. There was something sensual about the older woman—the way she walked, talked, laughed, grinned, and sipped her Bourbon cocktail.  

She tries recalling the last time someone intrigued her the way Laura has, but she can’t pinpoint anyone who’d captured her attention like this. No one had Bradley thinking about them 24/7 regardless of their gender. 

Her phone buzzes and she reads the text, heart dropping at having to wait a whole day to be with her again. It was just as well—she could use some time to cool off.

Sure—around 6 tomorrow?

Laura immediately responds: See you then.

She wakes up to the shrill sound of her alarm at 3:30 in the morning with a crick in her neck and grimaces when she recalls the intense workout she decided to do after Laura confirmed she wasn’t coming over. A hot shower helps loosen her stiff muscles, but it doesn’t help her thoughts from returning to Laura. Bradley knows she needs to put her attraction aside and focus on building a friendship with Laura; besides, it would be healthy to befriend someone in the industry who could not only serve as a kind ear, but also as a professional role model.

The show goes off without a hitch that morning, and Bradley is pleased when her thoughts don’t turn to Laura until after two post-show meetings. She changes clothes in her dressing room and remembers just 24 hours ago when a wrapped bottle of Scotch was waiting on the desk. Her lips tic up at Laura’s thoughtfulness.

As she unbuttons her blouse, she’s struck by Laura’s decision to give her a gift. If anything, it should’ve been her giving something to Laura for making her feel so special in Iowa. She’d treated Bradley with kindness and respect—something she hadn’t expected from the award-winning broadcast journalist. In Bradley’s experience, most veteran reporters didn’t give her the time of day. She wonders if it would’ve been anyone else, would they have treated her with such warmth and showered her with praise?

RJ knocks on the door.

Bradley zips her jeans. “Come in.”

“Here are your notes for tomorrow’s interview with Nancy Pelosi.” He hands her a folder. “I sent an electronic copy to your email.”

“Thank you.”

“Need anything else today?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good. See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good rest of your day.”

“You, too.”

Now Bradley just has to find a way to keep her mind off Laura for the next four hours—not an easy task as the hours turn to minutes and the anticipation bubbles in her belly.

Chapter Text

Laura can’t stop thinking about Bradley all day in anticipation of seeing her tonight. She throws herself into work, taking meetings she normally would allow her team to take on her behalf, but it helps her focus on something other than the woman who impressed her mightily a couple days ago. She’s already categorized the things she admires about Bradley and can’t find anything unappealing to latch onto. Maybe it could be her age or the fact that they work for the same network. Laura catches herself trying to find reasons they shouldn’t be together when the obvious reason is right in front of her…literally.

“Hi, I didn’t expect you.” Laura leans in for a chaste kiss. “What are you doing here?”

Simone smiles. “I was getting a manicure down the street and thought I’d pop over to say hello if you were home.”

“I just got here a few minutes ago.” She holds the other woman’s hand, leading her to the living room. “Can you stay for a drink?”

“No, I have to get to the theater.” She follows her to the sofa. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kiss you when I was just two blocks away.”

Laura smiles. “I’m glad you did.”

“Any plans tonight?”

She sits down. “I’m having drinks with Bradley Jackson.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I enjoyed my time with her in Iowa,” Laura replies.

“She seems like she’d be fun,” she says. “And we could all use another friend.”

In the two months they’d been a couple, Laura never once witnessed a jealous streak in her girlfriend. Simone was humble and kind—not something she thought possible with Broadway actors. Perhaps she hadn’t given actors a fair shake. Simone was changing Laura’s mind about how down to earth and sincere they could be.

“Are we still on for the dinner party on Monday night?”

Laura nods. “Already scheduled a grocery delivery.”

“Perfect.” Simone kisses her before standing. “I hope Trevor and Gordon hit it off.”

“Gordon is extremely picky.” Laura gets to her feet. “Don’t take it personally if they don’t.”

Trevor is a choreographer who met Simone when she was in her first ensemble performance of Cats 15 years ago. They’ve remained good friends ever since.

“Would you be up for brunch on Saturday?” Simone asks.

She opens the door. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good.” She grins. “Because I made reservations at Bessou.”

“What if I would’ve said no?”

Simone shrugs. “Then I’d cancel.”

“Always one step ahead.” She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand. “Break a leg tonight.”

“Thank you. Have fun with Bradley.” Simone steps out and turns to wave.

Laura lifts her hand before going back inside. She’s glad Simone stopped by—it reminds her how easy their relationship is. Her last two girlfriends had been needy and serious. Simone is the opposite—she wants to take things slowly and has no desire to cohabitate any time soon. She’s good for her, and Laura is thankful for the actress’ presence in her life.

Just before six, Laura calls a car to pick her up from her Upper West Side townhouse. She’s a little nervous about seeing Bradley again, but she’s also eager to share a bottle of Dynamo Kiev Scotch with a dynamo in her own right. 

Thirty minutes later a tap on the door startles Bradley even though she’d been expecting Laura any minute.  “Who is it?” 

“It’s Laura,” she replies, noticing her leg bouncing as she waits for Bradley to open it. 

It swings open, and the blonde is standing there looking adorable in yoga pants and a baby blue hoodie. “Hey. Welcome.” 

She smiles. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Bradley steps aside and makes a sweeping gesture. “Please, come in.” 

She steps inside and glances around. “I can’t believe you live in a hotel.”

“It’s not permanent or anything.” She shuts the door. “I just haven’t gotten around to looking for an apartment.” 

“You’ve been here a year.” Laura spins around, pinning her with her eyes. “How long does it take to find a suitable place in Manhattan?” 

Bradley lifts her shoulders. “I guess I just haven’t made it a priority.” 

Laura is curious about the other woman’s living arrangements and wonders if it has more to do with Bradley not knowing if her gig on The Morning Show will somehow abruptly end. She wants to dig deeper but decides now might not be the right time. “Well, as far as hotels go, the Archer Gray is lovely.” 

“It’s fine for now.” Bradley smiles, then makes her way further into the living room. “Thank you again for the Scotch.” 

“You’re welcome.” She notices the bottle of Dynamo on the desk. “You deserved a little something special.” 

She lifts the bottle and twists the top. “I still don’t understand why you think that.”

“Like I said before…” Laura shrugs. “You’re a skilled reporter; that deserves recognition.” 

“I don’t think I’ve earned such praise but thank you.” Bradley grabs two glasses, then pours the liquor into each.  

“You really don’t see it, do you?” She takes the proffered glass. 

“I think I’m skilled at what I do, but…” She rattles her head. “I’m just not used to compliments coming from a woman who I’ve looked up to my whole life.” 

“Well, get used to it.” Laura lifts the etched glass tumbler, tapping it against Bradley’s. “Because I’m going to shower you with compliments whenever they’re warranted.” 

Bradley finds herself a bit self-conscious at the other woman’s statement. Her entire life, she’d never been the recipient of imminent praise; in fact, it was just the opposite. She rarely found herself on the other end of compliments even when she’d done well on a test in school or nailed a field report for a different network.

She takes a sip, enjoying the way the smooth Scotch coats her throat as much as she enjoys being the recipient of Laura Peterson’s praise. “Mmm. This is good.” 

“It is.” Laura swallows. “So, where did we leave off at the hotel bar?” 

“Let’s see…” She moves to the sofa, tucking one leg underneath her. “You were going to tell me about your first job after college.” 

“Ah, right.” Laura sits next to her. “No one wanted to hire me back then. I thought I’d end up waiting tables for the foreseeable future, but on June 12, a month after graduation, I got an offer from My 9 in Secaucus.” She takes a sip of Scotch. “I was a field reporter for two years. They’d send me all over New York and I’d broadcast anywhere from the best pizza joint in Brooklyn to the Staten Island ferry dock during a strike.” 

Bradley smiles. “I’m familiar with those kinds of assignments.” 

“They weren’t glamorous by any means, but I took whatever they gave me back then,” she replies. “I sunk my teeth into local government stories more than others, and when a political reporting job came up at ABC-7, I jumped at the opportunity.” 

“We have that in common.” 

Laura gives her a curious look. 

“Political reporting,” Bradley adds. “I’ve always been drawn to the way government works or doesn’t work in most cases.” 

“Mmm.” She takes another sip. “Like the coal mine protest when you were at SENN?” 

“Don’t bring that up.” Bradley rolls her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever live it down.” 

“People have short memories,” she responds. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Besides, look at you now.” 

She swirls the Scotch in her glass. “Says the woman who has never made an on-air mistake in her career.” 

Laura tilts her head. “Are you sure about that?” 

Her eyes widen. “Have you?”

“Nothing major, but yeah, I’ve had my share of on-air blunders.” She runs a hand up and down her thigh and Bradley watches Laura’s long fingers stroke her jeans. “I called a guy a stupid little prick when I thought the cameras weren’t rolling.” 

She slams her hand against the cushion. “You did not!” 

Laura nods. “It was almost indecipherable, but if you listen closely, you can hear it.” 

“Who were you referring to?” 

“A waste management executive who was offering city contracts to friends in exchange for kickbacks,” she continues. “At five foot two, he was the very definition of a little prick.” 

Bradley chuckles.  

“There was also a time when I was reporting from City Hall, and I had on these black slacks that zipped on the side, but I’d forgotten to pull the zipper up.” 

Her eyes widen again. 

“You could see my red underwear,” she finishes with a light laugh and a head shake. “I was mortified.” 

She pictures Laura wearing red underwear and brings the glass to her mouth to conceal a smirk. “I’m sure your ratings went up after that.” 

She chuckles. “I don’t know about that.” 

“Well, it’s nice to hear you’re prone to mistakes, too, though neither of those are as bad as the coal mine thing or when I said fuck on air twice.” Bradley gets up with visions of Laura’s unzipped pants dancing in her head. “Can I refresh your drink?” 

“Please.” She takes a final sip, then holds the glass out. “Wait, go back to saying fuck on air.”

“Not much more to say.” Bradley tips the bottle over a glass. “I got a stiff reprimand and lost a promotion I should’ve gotten.”

“Damn.”

She hands the glass to Laura. “Yeah, not my proudest moment.”

They talk about the early days of their careers over the expensive Scotch, and Bradley finds herself just on the other side of tipsy, allowing her bold streak to continue. 

“You mentioned you’re seeing someone,” she begins. “Have you been together long?” 

Laura’s pleased the topic surfaces if only to remind her that she’s in a relationship. “We’d been casually dating for a few months, but two weeks ago we had a conversation about becoming exclusive.” 

Bradley nods and glances away. While she’d love to spend more time with Laura, she’s not interested in being the other woman. She’d been cheated on twice before and remembers the sting when she found out about her former lovers’ clandestine affair. Even though both relationships were short-lived, Bradley promised never to put another person through such anguish.

“Good for you.” She gives Laura her best smile, though she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I haven’t had a significant other in almost five years.”

A grin forms on Laura’s face upon learning Bradley is single, but she’s quick to hide it behind her glass. “If you wanted to be partnered, I’m sure you’d have your pick of suitors.”

She side-eyes her. “I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.”

“You’re a catch, Bradley.” She shrugs, then decides to take a chance. “Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

Bradley juts her chin back. “Any woman?”

“Aren’t you…” she trails off, hoping to get answers without making it too obvious.

“I’m not anything.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I don’t identify as gay or straight.”

Laura continues. “So, you’re bi?”

“I never really thought about labeling my sexuality,” she admits, wrapping her other hand around the rocks glass. “I am who I am; I like who I like. Sometimes that’s women, sometimes it’s men.”

Laura narrows her eyes. “You’re an interesting woman, Bradley Jackson.”

She blushes. “What’s so interesting about me?”

“You’re…” Laura rattles her head. “An enigma. On one hand, you’re the girl next door everyone wants to be friends with, but on the other, you’re this deep thinker who doesn’t abide by labels.”

“I’m just me.” She takes a sip of Scotch. “People can either love me or leave me.”

She reaches out, touching Bradley’s hand. “I’m leaning towards the former.”

It would be so easy, Bradley thinks, to kiss the woman next to her for a second time. Now that she knows Laura’s in a relationship, she won’t make that mistake. If they’d met a few weeks earlier, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Laura had been in six serious relationships throughout her life, but she’d never been drawn to someone else during those times. Even if she had been, she wouldn’t have chosen to spend time alone with them for fear of the temptation becoming too great. She sits there, staring at Bradley’s mouth, and wondering what it would feel like to have her lips linger on hers again. Although the kiss in the car was quick, Laura enjoyed the way Bradley’s mouth felt pressed against hers. She knows she needs to dial this back fast.

“I’m hosting a dinner party on Monday.” She sits up straight. “You should come.” 

She creases her brows. “A dinner party on a Monday night?” 

“Simone is in Moulin Rouge,” she explains. “Our days off don’t line up, so we spend time together when the theater is dark or when her understudy steps in.” 

“You’re dating an actress?” Bradley gives her an impressed look. “Wow.” 

“Simone is the first professional actress I’ve been with,” she responds. “I was worried she’d have this massive ego, but that’s not the case at all.” 

Bradley isn’t sure exactly where to take the conversation, so she lifts the tumbler to her mouth and savors the amber liquor. “That’s refreshing to hear.” One thing she knows about herself is she’s prone to jealousy, but Bradley reminds herself there’s nothing to be jealous of—Laura was taken before she came along.

“What about you?” Laura sets her empty glass on the hutch behind the sofa curious to know the answer to her next question. “Are you open to a relationship?”

“No one has captured my interest in a long time.” She tucks her hair behind an ear. “Besides you, I mean.” 

“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment,” Laura replies through a soft laugh, placing the thought of capturing Bradley’s attention aside to reflect upon later. “And I feel the same about you.” 

She takes another sip, then sets her glass next to Laura’s. “Well, I hope we’ll continue getting to know each other better.”

“Me, too.” Laura gets to her feet. “I’m serious about dinner on Monday. I’d love for you to join us.” 

“Thanks for the invitation.” Bradley stands. “I’ll check my schedule.” 

She slips into her coat and grins. “Surely nothing would take precedence over spending time with me.”

Bradley smiles. “If it was just you, maybe, but you did say it’s a dinner party.”

Laura’s pulse quickens at the thought of having dinner exclusively with Bradley, but that’s not in the cards right now and probably shouldn’t be an option in the near future. While she does want to get to know Bradley better, it’s proving to be difficult to not think of her in a purely platonic sense.

“It’ll be five of us—six if you join.”

“Sounds like fun.” She opens the door. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

“I’ll eagerly await your response,” Laura says. “Thank you for the Scotch and the conversation.” 

“Thank you for the Scotch,” Bradley offers through a wide smile. “And for trekking across town tonight.” 

“You’re welcome.” Laura reaches out to hug the shorter woman and takes in a big whiff of her lilac perfume. She’s not surprised that Bradley smells incredibly fucking good. “Hope to see you in a few days.” 

She buries her head in Laura’s neck and takes in the scent of leather and white musk. She doesn’t want to let go; in fact, Bradley would be fine just standing in her arms for another hour or so. It usually takes her weeks if not months to get close enough to someone to welcome such comfort. Nevertheless, she knows it’s time to say goodbye.

Laura releases her, then steps out. “I had fun tonight.” 

She smiles. “So did I.” 

“I suppose I’ll see you soon.” 

“You will." Bradley nods. “Good night, Laura.” 

If she genuinely wants to be friends with Laura, Bradley knows she doesn’t have the luxury of always being alone with her. To that end, she decides to accept the invitation to Monday’s dinner party. Perhaps she’ll get past her initial attraction, and they could become close friends. Bradley had never experienced being attracted to someone while developing a friendship, but she isn’t opposed to giving it a shot.

The notion of diminished attraction flies out the window the moment Laura answers the door Monday evening dressed in dark denim and a silky black shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal three long necklaces and a little bit of cleavage.

“Well, if it isn’t Bradley Jackson.”

She blushes. “That’s me.”

“Glad you could make it.” Laura hugs her, realizing it’s only the second time they’ve embraced. She takes in Bradley’s sweet floral scent and her mind immediately drifts to their singular kiss. She flattens her palms on the other woman’s back and closes her eyes for a few seconds, savoring the way Bradley feels in her arms before letting go. “Come on in.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Bradley smiles though inwardly she wishes their embrace would have lasted longer. “Oh, this is for you.”

Laura takes the bottle and eyes the label. “Did I tell you Tempranillo is my favorite grape?”

“No.” She shrugs. “I read the tasting notes on the back and thought it sounded good.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Thank you.” Laura’s smile is enough to make Bradley’s knees nearly give out, but she reminds herself of their platonic relationship—no sense swooning over a woman who’s off the market. “Let me introduce you to the other guests.”

“I’m sure you remember Gordon from our time together in Iowa,” she says.

He waves. “Good to see you again, Bradley.”

“You, too.”

Laura gestures to a tall, well-dressed man in tortoise shell glasses and sipping a martini. “And this is Trevor Sachs.”

“Nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand. “I assume you and Laura know each other through UBA?”

“I suppose we should know each other through the network, but the first time we met was last week when she interviewed me in Des Moines.”

“That’s right—I forgot Laura was whisked away to Iowa,” Trevor responds. “You were covering the Caucus, correct?”

“I was.” Bradley nods. “I’m hoping to do a little more political reporting in the coming months.”

“Well, with the presidential election later this year, hopefully your wish will be granted.”

She smiles. “From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Welcome, Bradley…” A woman in a patterned wrap dress who looks like an older Gal Gadot approaches her. “I watch your show all the time. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Laura appreciates Simone’s greeting but hesitates before introducing her. She isn’t fond of the term girlfriend and doesn’t think they’re quite at partner status yet, so she simply says, “I’d like you to meet Simone Moreau.”

Bradley’s heart sinks a little as she shakes her hand, hoping her jealousy remains trapped deep inside. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Simone wraps her other hand over their joined ones. “Laura has been raving about you since she returned from Iowa.”

Laura talks about her to her girlfriend? Bradley files that nugget away. Right now, she concentrates on welcoming Simone’s eager handshake.

“We had fun,” Bradley replies. “I wonder how many people can say that about visiting the Hawkeye State.”

“So true—not a ton to do in Des Moines, I suppose.” Simone releases her hand. “We’re honored you could join us tonight.”

Bradley continues smiling. “I’m honored to have been invited.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” Laura asks.

She almost misses the question as she feels Laura’s hand at the small of her back. Bradley is confident it’s nothing more than a kind gesture, but she relishes in her touch nonetheless.

“I have gin, vodka, tequila, bourbon,” she continues. “You name it.”

Bradley’s thankful for the prompt as Laura removes her hand. “Whatever you’re drinking is fine. I’m not real particular about alcohol.”

“Bourbon on the rocks, then.”

 “I’m glad Laura found someone who appreciates bourbon,” Simone comments. “I don’t like any brown liquor.”

“I’ve never met a bottle of booze I didn’t like,” Bradley replies, finding it endearing she and Laura apparently share a love of Kentucky whiskey.

“Hello, Bradley,” a woman’s voice calls from behind. “Lovely to see you again.”

She spins around to see Maggie Brener walking towards them, balancing a martini glass between in her hand.

“Maggie, hi,” she greets her. “I had no idea you and Laura were friends.”

She’d only met Maggie once not long after being plucked from obscurity by Alex. Bradley found her to be a clever journalist who was fond of a circuitous line of questioning rather than asking straightforward questions. She’d interviewed Bradley back when she was trying to throw Alex under the bus, but Bradley hadn’t bitten.

“Laura and I go way back.” She grins. “It’s my understanding the two of you hadn’t met until recently.”

She nods. “That’s right.”

Maggie sips her dirty gin martini. “I was surprised when Laura told me she’d invited you tonight.”

Bradley creases her brow. “Why’s that?”

She pauses, trying to assess the best way to reply to the younger woman’s inquiry without giving away that she suspects her long-time friend might have a bit of a crush on Bradley. “Laura isn’t one to welcome people into her home so quickly. You must’ve made quite an impression.”

“I was just being myself,” Bradley offers with a shrug. “Maybe she likes hanging out with quirky journalists.”

“Maybe.” There’s a gleam in her eyes Bradley can’t quite place—it’s part curiosity and part suspicion. She knows the writer has a way of sniffing out the truth and has no doubt Maggie is intrigued by Laura’s interest in her.

Bradley scans the room for the hostess, hoping to get out of Maggie Brener’s crosshairs, and spots her near the bar cart talking to Gordon. Bradley’s lips quirk up as she watches Laura toss her head back with laughter. She smiles at the echo of the older woman’s hearty laugh.

As if sensing Bradley’s focus, Laura makes her way across the room. “Sorry it took so long.” She hands her a glass of bourbon. “Gordon was telling me about his cat humping a banana.” Laura wraps her fingers around Bradley’s forearm and laughs vigorously again.

“Humping a banana?” Bradley can’t help the contagious laughter. “I might need to hear the whole story.”

“It’s a good one—disturbing but good.” She releases the blonde’s arm. “I see you’ve met Maggie.”

“Oh, we’ve met before.” Bradley sips the bourbon. “I was just saying how nice it was to see her again.” It’s not a boldfaced lie, but she’s somewhat extending the truth. Bradley doesn’t get intimidated easily, but Maggie comes as close as it gets.

Laura leans down and conspiratorially whispers in Bradley’s ear, “Don’t believe a word she says about me getting high at a wedding in the mid-90s.”

Maggie chuckles. “I’ll save that story for another time.”

The guests make small talk for the next half hour, and then Laura announces it’s time for dinner.

Bradley sits two seats down and across from Laura. She enjoys Gordon’s snarky comments throughout the meal and wonders if she’s in the middle of a set-up between him and Trevor. Laura hadn’t mentioned anything, but it’s not like they’d talked about the guests in advance. Every so often, Bradley peeks her way, and twice Laura catches her eye and smiles. There’s something reassuring about Laura’s glances—like she’s silently checking in to ensure she’s having fun.

As much as she wanted to dislike Simone from the outset, she’s drawn to her soft smile and story-telling ability. She can see why Laura would be attracted to the actress, though they’re not as…familiar as Bradley thought they might be after having recently declared their exclusivity. In the short time she’s known Laura, she’s found her to be highly attentive and affectionate, but that’s not the way Laura behaves around Simone. They don’t catch each other’s eye from across the room and Laura doesn’t check-in with her girlfriend during the first half of the evening. In fact, Bradley would put money on them not having said I love you yet—not that it’s any of her business.

After the main course, Maggie tries getting Bradley to divulge information about Alex, but the younger journalist doesn’t bite. She attempted a similar tactic when she interviewed Bradley for her book, and even though she might be new to the national stage, Bradley isn’t naïve enough to fall for her line of pointed questioning.

“Is there something specific you want to know about Alex?” she asks around a sip of Tempranillo. “I feel like there is but you’re not saying it.”

“What? Of course not.” Maggie flicks her wrist.

“Good, because this is starting to feel like an interview.” Bradley sets her glass down. “Which I know you wouldn’t think is appropriate at such an intimate dinner party.”

The writer gives her a look, and Bradley wonders if Maggie is impressed by her fortitude. “Alex and I used to be good friends.” She shrugs. “I’m just curious how she’s doing.”

Bradley reaches for the wine bottle. “Aren’t you writing a book with parts in it about Alex?”

“I am,” she replies. “I’m not fishing for information for my book if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

She tips the bottle, topping off Maggie’s glass. “I’m not insinuating anything.”

Maggie lifts the flute to her mouth. “I was just wondering what it’s been like, working with Alex—nothing more, nothing less.”

Bradley doesn’t quite believe her, but she’s not sure what exactly Maggie is fishing for and wonders if she’s simply an inquisitive woman even when she’s not on the job or if there’s something more the writer is trying to uncover.

As if sensing the awkward conversation, Laura glances at Bradley, then gets to her feet. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

Gordon and Trevor agree it’s time for homemade chocolate lava cake, but Simone says she’s stuffed after eating every bite of maple-glazed salmon and Haricots Verts on her plate.

Bradley scoots her chair back. “Let me help.” She follows her into the kitchen.

Laura pulls a baking tray out the oven. “You and Maggie seemed to be in a deep conversation.”

“She was asking lots of questions about Alex.” Bradley lays two trivets on the counter, and Laura sets the pan on them. “It was fine at first, but she was really probing.”

She touches the top of one of the chocolate lava cakes to ensure it’s warm enough. “They have history.”

Bradley leans against the counter, folding her arms. “What kind of history?”

Laura eyes her as if debating how much she should reveal. “Personal history.”

Her eyebrows climb. “Personal as in…”

“It was a long time ago.” She spins around and pulls six small plates from the cupboard. “And I’ve probably said too much already.”

“If you’re worried about me being discreet, don’t be.” Bradley takes the plates from her. “I’m like a vault when it comes to keeping secrets.”

“Good to know.” She grins before moving to the freezer to pluck out a container of vanilla Häagen-Dazs. “Maybe I’ll fill you in on the whole debacle someday; for now, will you scoop ice cream onto these plates?”

Bradley grabs the silver scooper off the counter ready to dig in.

She lifts the lid, then scoots the container towards her guest. “Are you having fun?”

“I am.” She smiles. “Simone is lovely.” Bradley acknowledges a twinge of jealousy, but she can’t help but find Laura’s girlfriend kind and charming. She was hoping she’d dislike Simone, but that’s not the case at all.

“She is.” Laura opens a drawer, pulling out six spoons. “I’m glad you think so, too.”

“Maybe I’m just imagining things, but are y’all trying to set up Gordon and Trevor?” She pushes the first plate aside, and Laura places a mini-chocolate lava cake on it.

She chuckles. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me,” Bradley laughs. “Do they know that’s the plan?”

“We didn’t exactly tell them it was a set up, but I’m sure they’ve figured it out by now.” She scoops a small bite of ice cream onto a spoon, then pops it in her mouth. “Gordon is very perceptive.”

“Hey!” Bradley complains. “If you get a sample, I get one, too.”

Laura dips the spoon in the vanilla ice cream, then lifts it to Bradley’s mouth.

She wraps her lips around the spoon, and despite the normality, Laura finds it oddly sensual. When Bradley moans, the sensation intensifies.

“Mmm, so good.” She forgets she’s holding ice cream in the scooper until it dribbles down her shirt and onto the floor. “Shit!”

“Is it just me or do you have a problem with dropping things?” Laura giggles as she wets a few paper towels. “First it was coffee in Iowa and now it’s ice cream.”

“What can I say?” She glances at the white stain on her blouse. “I’m a bit of a klutz.”

“Here…” She places one hand on Bradley’s upper back and uses the other to dab the stain. “Good thing you’re wearing a light-colored blouse. No one will even notice the wet spot.”

Bradley concentrates on the way Laura’s hand feels on her back and considers wrapping her arms around her waist for no reason other than wanting to feel her body pressed against hers.

Laura pulls away and glances at the damp spot on her blouse, though Bradley is certain her eyes drift to her cleavage as well. “As good as new.”

“Thank you.” She turns to the sink and wets a few more paper towels. “Let me clean up this mess.”

Laura bends down and starts wiping the melted ice cream. “I've got it.”

“Sorry about this.” Bradley mirrors her position as she cleans the floor.

“It’s ok,” she offers. “We have enough ice cream to feed an Army.”

Laura’s fingers brush against the back of Bradley’s hand and they stare at each other for a beat. Bradley’s pulse quickens as she wraps her hand around Laura’s and squeezes it.  

Her face softens as she admires the way Bradley’s smaller hand is cradled in her bigger, stronger one. She can’t enjoy this. “Bradley, I…”

“Need some help in here?”

They look up to see Simone walking into the kitchen, stopping near the counter when she spots them on the ground.

“Hey.” Laura immediately gets to her feet. “We had a little ice cream accident.”

Bradley tosses the paper towels into the trashcan and feels a blush spreading across her cheeks.  “I’ll scoop the rest onto the other plates.”

Laura pushes two dishes forward. “Would you mind taking these to the table?”

If Simone saw what transpired, she doesn’t mention it. “Sure.”

She leaves the kitchen, and Laura dots the rest of the plates with mini cakes. “Thanks for your help.”

Bradley looks up and offers a gentle smile. “Any time.” She’s keenly aware of the intimate moment they just shared, but she dare not mention it aloud. Best to keep their feelings to themselves.

The last half-hour of the dinner party is fine—the guests compliment Laura on all the food, including the homemade cakes, and Bradley is the first to depart after thanking Laura profusely for a lovely evening. They hug at the door, then she walks briskly down the sidewalk letting out a long sigh before hailing a cab.

It’s getting more difficult to deny her attraction to Laura and for a split second, she wonders if they shouldn’t hang out again soon. Bradley doesn’t want to be the cause of a rift between her and her girlfriend, and it’s beginning to feel like that could be possible if they see each other again. She decides not to reach out to Laura until a bit more time passes, and if she invites Bradley to another event, the younger woman will politely decline.

Simone helps her girlfriend clean up after Trevor and Gordon agree to go to a cocktail bar around the corner for a nightcap.

“That was delicious.” Simone dries her hands on a dish towel. “Thank you again for making all the food and hosting.”

“It was fun. Happy to do it.” Laura exits the kitchen, then turns to ensure her girlfriend is right behind. “I’m exhausted.”

“Same.” She follows her to the bedroom. “What was going on in the kitchen when I walked in on you and Bradley?”

Laura stops in her tracks, straightening her spine. “What do you mean?” She knows exactly what her girlfriend is referring to but hopes she’s incorrect.

Simone brushes past her and enters the bathroom. “On the floor.”

Her pulse quickens and she knows she has some explaining to do. “When Bradley was serving ice cream, a chunk fell out of the scooper onto the floor. I helped her clean it up.”

She turns on the faucet. “When I walked in, it looked like you were on the ground holding hands.”

“Our fingers bumped into each other while we were wiping the tile.” Laura sticks a hand on her hip, then looks at her feet. “Maybe we held on too long.”

She dabs toothpaste on her brush. “Maybe.”

Laura steps behind her, kissing her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

She spins around, pinning Laura with her stare. “Is there something I should know about you two?”

“No!” Laura emphatically states, kissing the side of her mouth. “I enjoy spending time with her, but nothing is going on.”

She leans against the counter and eyes Laura for a few seconds before speaking. Laura considers herself skilled at reading body language, but she can’t identify precisely what her girlfriend is thinking. She knows if the roles were reversed, she’d have more than a few questions to pose.

Finally, Simone asks, “If you and I weren’t a couple, would there be the possibility of something happening between you?”

She swallows hard and ducks her chin. Her mouth is dry, and she knows her response should be decisive and swift, yet she can’t seem to choke out a lie. “I’d never cheat on you.” She lifts her girlfriend’s hand. “Never.”

“I’m glad, but that’s not what I asked.”

She rubs Simone’s knuckles with the pad of her thumb. “Bradley is fun.” She raises her shoulders. “I like hanging out with her.”

“She’s also gorgeous.”

There’s no sense denying it. “That’s empirically true.”

Simone can’t argue with that fact, but she didn’t expect her girlfriend to agree with such ease. “You and I discussed our relationship in great detail before deciding to be exclusive, and one of the things we promised was complete honesty.” She squeezes her hand. “I love being with you; I love our relationship.”

Laura senses a but coming and isn’t sure if she’s nervous or relieved at what might come out of Simone’s mouth.

“But if you want to pursue something with her…” She lets out a long breath. “You need to end things with me…That’s not what I want.”

“It’s not what I want either.” Laura brushes the other woman’s hair over her shoulder. “I’m committed to you. If my feelings change, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Laura has trouble falling asleep that night. Bradley has been on her mind since they met in Iowa, and she knows they should probably not see each other anytime soon. She doesn’t like cutting off their budding friendship, but their underlying attraction is too intense to pretend it doesn’t exist. Laura knows what she has to do, but it doesn’t mean she’ll enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Three weeks go by, and Bradley can count on one hand the number of days she hasn’t thought about Laura—one. And that’s not even accurate, because she woke up and fell asleep with Laura on her mind. (It didn’t help when she watched UBA 365 and Laura happened to be anchoring.) Bradley still counts it as one day without thinking about Laura, because she was consumed with The Morning Show and post-show meetings mostly about how they were going to cover the coronavirus. She was proud of herself for that singular day, but two days later, Bradley unexpectedly comes face to face with her again.

“Happy birthday, Eric!” Bradley hugs her former co-host. “How does it feel to be 35?”

He raises his shoulders and chuckles. “About the same as it felt to be 34.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Bradley laughs along with him. “I got you a little something. It’s on the table over there.”

Eric squeezes her arm. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s your birthday, of course I got you a present,” she replies. “It’s not much, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.” Bradley glances over his shoulder and is stunned to see Laura standing near the studio entrance, plucking a flute of Champagne from a silver tray.

Bradley narrows her eyes to make sure she’s not mistaken, but it doesn’t take more than two seconds to know the woman who has more than a few heads turned in her direction is, in fact, Laura Peterson. She’s the tallest woman in the room by a couple inches. Bradley can’t decide what she’s more drawn to—the slit in her gray pencil skirt that goes halfway up her thigh or her silky black hair that’s draped over her shoulders. There’s something sexy about the way she brings the glass of bubbly to her mouth, takes a sip, then gracefully lowers it.

Bradley returns her attention to the birthday boy. “If you’ll excuse me, Eric, there’s someone I need to talk to…”

Bradley’s first thought is to sprint over to Laura and hug her, but she has the wherewithal to control such an impulsive move. She’d sent her a text the day after the dinner party, thanking her again for the invitation, but Laura replied with only two words: You’re welcome.

She takes a few steps in Laura’s direction when Mia cuts her off.

“Has Gayle spoken with you about the network ordering equipment for you and Alex to work from home?” Mia asks.

“What? No.” Bradley shakes her head and creases her brow. “Wait, work from home? Why?”

“The virus is spreading fast,” Mia replies through a frustrated breath. “They’re saying it could reach pandemic levels within the next couple weeks.”

“That seems a bit far-fetched,” Bradley lets out in an audacious laugh. “I know it’s bad, but pandemic bad? I don’t think it’s going to get to that point.”

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow after the show,” she says, glancing over Bradley’s shoulder. “I need to wish Eric a happy birthday, then get back to work.”

“See you in the morning.” Bradley grimaces at the thought of having to work from home and can’t wrap her brain around what the logistics will look like. When she searches for Laura after the interruption, she’s nowhere to be found. She takes a sip of Champagne, then hears Laura’s unmistakable voice from behind.

“Well, if it isn’t Bradley Jackson.”

She spins around, grinning from ear to ear. “Is that how you’re going to greet me every time we see each other?”

“Probably,” Laura deadpans. “Until it gets old.”

“I don’t know if it’ll ever get old.” She tries to take her eyes off the other woman’s figure, but she’s drawn to the way the skirt outlines her legs and her Louboutins that make her tower over Bradley.

“It’s been too long,” Laura offers, trailing her own eyes down the blonde’s body and appreciating every curve.

Her heart flutters at the sentiment—Bradley had no idea how good it would feel like to be missed by Laura Peterson.

Finally, she meets the older woman’s piercing green eyes. “It has.”

“Why haven’t you reached out?” She probably should’ve kept the question to herself, but now that it’s out there, Laura’s curious to hear her response.

Bradley smiles. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Now she’s trapped by her own doing. “Can we talk somewhere a bit more…” Laura glances around the expansive studio. “Private?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bradley anxiously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, hoping Laura isn’t going to tell her they can’t see each other socially. Her feelings have only deepened with Laura’s absence, and she’d hate to lose the connection they were beginning to establish even if it could only be platonic for now. “My dressing room is right around the corner.”

Laura follows her down the corridor, thinking about how much she should tell Bradley about her feelings. On one hand, she wants to be completely transparent, but on the other, she worries about the consequences of her attraction.

“Here we are.” Bradley twists the doorknob, then steps inside.

“Nice.” She looks around the sizable dressing room. “Much bigger than the one they’ve relegated me to now that I’m only working part-time.”

She takes a sip of Champagne. “They took away your dressing room?”

“I offered it to sweeten the deal when the network was trying to convince Emily to take the job,” she replies, eyeing the dresses hanging neatly in the closet. “I’m only here two or three days a week, plus I have an office.”

Bradley sits on the edge of the sofa. “I’ve never been to the UBA 365 floor.”

“I’m happy to give you a tour.” Laura sits beside her. “Don’t get your hopes up—it’s not much different than the TMS space.”

She nods, taking another sip.

“Bradley, there’s a reason I haven’t reached out.” Laura crosses her legs, and Bradley watches the slit in her skirt spread open, revealing a milky white, toned thigh. “That night at my place when we were in the kitchen and Simone walked in…”

Bradley’s eyes widen—she knows what the other woman is about to say.

“She saw us on the floor, cleaning up the spilled ice cream; we weren’t exactly focused on the task as much as we were on each other.”

She places a hand on her forehead, shaking her head vigorously. “That was…”

Laura casually sips the bubbles. “Bad timing?”

“Bad timing? It was more than that.” She gets to her feet. “It was…irresponsible. I shouldn’t have…”

“You weren’t the instigator,” Laura responds. “I could’ve handed you a paper towel to dab the ice cream that dripped on your blouse.” She glances at her lap, then back up. “I was flirting, and I shouldn’t have been.”

She knows they were flirting but can’t believe Laura is making such an astute observation as well as a confession. Laura not shying away from a difficult conversation doesn’t surprise her, but Bradley doesn’t like where the conversation is likely heading.

“I owe you an apology.” Laura stands. “I already gave one to Simone.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Bradley creases her brow, confused and nervous about what this all means. “I should’ve never kissed you on our way back from Iowa.”

“I liked it.” A tiny smile surfaces. “I told you as much.”

“You also said you couldn’t like it,” Bradley tries.

“I can’t.” Laura raises her shoulders. “I also liked flirting with you—like—flirting with you, which is why I haven’t been in touch.”

Bradley is shocked by the honesty Laura is willing to share. She considers herself a mostly honest person, but she isn’t sure she’d be brave enough to be so bold. She swallows hard. “I like it, too, which is why I haven’t reached out.”

Laura lets out a light laugh.

She wrinkles her forehead. “What’s so funny?”

“We’ve been avoiding each other for the same reason,” she replies.

Bradley rattles her head. “I still don’t get how that’s funny.”

“Now that we’ve identified the issue, we can accept it and stop.” In Laura’s mind, being exclusive with a woman is like wearing an invisible shield that protects her from doing something inappropriate.

Bradley sets her glass on the dresser. “You think it’ll be that easy?”

“I don’t see why not.” She shrugs. “I’m in a committed relationship. You respect that, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“We know where we stand,” Laura states. “I don’t think it’ll be difficult to turn off the charm. Do you?”

She scratches her head and looks away.

Laura straightens and tips her chin forward. “Do you?”

“Look, Laura...You’ve been honest with me this whole time; I owe you the same…” She swallows the lump in her throat and feels a vein pulsing in her neck. “I’m…I’m attracted to you. I have been from the moment you greeted me on the airplane, and…and…I know I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Laura balls her hands into fists to prevent herself from reaching out to her, hugging her for all she’s worth, and then pressing her lips to Bradley’s in a kiss she grudgingly daydreams about every fucking day. Little does she know Bradley has been having the same struggles.

“I could try to stop, but when I look at you…” She drags her eyes up and down Laura’s lithe body while wringing her hands together. “My thoughts…aren’t exactly pure.”

Laura’s laugh percolates in her belly before coming out in a rumble. “I’m sorry.”

Bradley gives her a pointed look, offended the other woman finds the situation humorous. “This isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s not.” She sniffs, reaching for Bradley’s arm. “I’m not laughing at your comment, I’m laughing at your wording.”

She shakes her head and sticks a hand on her hip, perturbed at Laura’s reaction to her vulnerability—something she’s not accustomed to putting on display. “What?”

“Your thoughts aren’t pure?” Laura grins. “It just sounds so…biblical.”

“Forget it.” Bradley grabs her Champagne flute and starts to walk away, but Laura catches her wrist.

“Wait. I’m sorry,” she says for the second time, this one with more sincerity. “I promise I wasn’t laughing at the sentiment; I feel the same.”

Yet again, she’s stunned. “You do?”

“Bradley,” she steps closer. “If I wasn’t in a serious relationship when you kissed me a month ago, you and I might be in one by now.”

Her eyes grow wide and she tightens her jaw; Laura has rendered her speechless.

“But I’m with Simone.” She releases Bradley’s wrist and feels the buoyancy of their confessions sink to the pit of her stomach. “I can’t do anything about my feelings for you.”

Bradley hesitates before posing a question. “If you’re attracted to me, why are you still with her?”

As if needing to put distance between them, she stands in front of the sofa but doesn’t sit down. “Because I made a commitment—something I don't take lightly.” Laura would like to reveal more about her feelings for Simone, but when she’s face to face with this woman, she draws a blank as to why she’s  partnered with anyone other than Bradley Jackson.

Bradley nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you,” Laura admits and pauses before coming up with a solution she hates to offer but knows it’s the only way to proceed. “Maybe not seeing each other is what’s best for us—at least for now.”

The pain in Bradley’s chest sharpens. She knows Laura is right—they can’t see each other the way they’d like to. She also knows they’re grown ass adults who should have the fortitude not to act impulsively, but it would serve them best not to be at temptation’s door especially if alcohol is involved. No telling what they might do with a little liquid courage lowering their inhibitions.

“Yeah. Ok.” Bradley nods again, folding her arms as if physically protecting her heart. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Laura steps towards her and rubs her upper arm. “I really would like to get to know you better, but the timing is a bit off.”

Bradley attempts a laugh, but it falls short. “Will there ever be a right time?”

“I hope so,” she replies. “I’d hate to go through life not knowing everything there is to know about Bradley Jackson.”

Her lips twitch at the thought of staying up late and learning more about Laura, then waking up the next morning, picking up where they left off over lattes and blueberry scones. Bradley is convinced they’d never run out of things to talk about, and it saddens her to think they may never get that chance. She can’t recall a time when she wanted to spend time with another person so desperately.

Laura’s hand drops to her side. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

Bradley nods, remaining silent.

She reaches out to hug her and delights in the way Bradley’s body fits against hers. Laura sucks in a deep breath of lilac perfume and her lips skim the column of Bradley’s neck. It’s not a kiss; more like an incidental brushing. It would be so fucking easy to turn this into an intimate moment, but Laura pulls back before her body betrays her.

“We should head back to the party.”

“We should,” Bradley replies. “I’ll be right out—I just need a minute.”

She squeezes Bradley’s hand before turning to leave. “Take your time.”

Once Laura leaves and the door closes, Bradley hangs her head. It’s too soon to admit her feelings for Laura are stronger than she’s felt about another person; she’s not even sure if that’s true. All she knows is spending time in Laura’s presence has been the highlight of her year. She wants to continue getting to know her, but she’s keenly aware of the danger in their physical proximity. She takes a few deep breaths, downs the glass of Champagne, then makes her way back to Eric’s celebration.

Though it’s not easy, they keep good on their promise not to see each other socially. They continue thinking about each other often, but when she’s with Simone, Laura vows to focus on her girlfriend. It isn’t until Cory surprises everyone with front row tickets to Moulin Rouge when the shit hits the fan.

“Wait, Cory!” Bradley catches up to him in the hallway. “Thank you for the tickets, but I can’t go.”

He lets out a light laugh. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t make it to the show on Friday night,” she tries.

He turns the corner towards his office. “I asked what your plans were for the weekend, and you said the only thing you had was a hair appointment on Saturday morning.”

“Something came up,” she lies.

No fucking way is she going to sit with the UBA elite in the front row of a Broadway musical in which Laura’s girlfriend will be performing. Despite two weeks going by, Bradley still can’t shake the feeling what she and Laura have is special even though she’s in a committed relationship with someone else.

“It’s not up for discussion.” He stops. “The network just announced a major sponsorship of the Hirschfeld Theater. I made sure everyone’s schedule was clear,” Cory slices his hands through the air. “And I chose this precise performance so you, Alex and a few other prominent players could attend.”

She looks at the ground, trying to come up with a valid excuse but draws a blank. “Is it just going to be a few of us from TMS?”

“Eric and Emily will be there; Tate from Political Pieces and Laura Peterson.”

Her heart pounds in her chest so loudly she swears Cory might be able to hear it. “Laura’s going?”

“Her girlfriend is in the show,” he chuckles as if that should be common knowledge. “Of course, she’ll be there. We’ll have a little party with the cast afterwards, thanks in no small part to her.”

“Cory, I…” she stammers.

“You’re going.” He starts walking again. “Special events like this are part of your contract. If you think I’m making it up, check with Neil.” He stops in front of his office door. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Good.”

Bradley makes her way through the building and back to her dressing room, wondering if she could fake being sick so she doesn’t have to attend the performance. She can’t imagine being in the same room with Laura, watching her watch her lover on stage. Perhaps a check in with her agent is essential to understand what is and is not included in her contract.

Chapter Text

Laura doesn’t consider herself an anxious person; in fact, she prides herself on her calm demeanor. Even in challenging interviews with heads of state or reporting on grim stories, she never gets flustered, yet she finds herself stepping out the hired car in front of the Hirschfeld Theater with an elevated pulse. It’s only been two weeks since she’s seen Bradley, but they agreed it was for the best. There were bound to be work events when they’d bump into each other, but Laura didn’t expect it to be only a couple weeks later.

A group of UBA executives and anchors gather in a small room in the East wing of the theater pre-show, and as soon as Laura steps inside, she spots Bradley in a black tuxedo dress that hits just above the knee. Her hair is wavy and draped over one shoulder, and when she laughs at something Alex says, Laura’s breath hitches in her throat. She takes a moment to collect herself, then walks toward the co-anchors.

“Laura, hi.” Alex is the first to greet her even though every interaction they’ve had over the past 20 years has been awkward.

“Hi, Alex.” She hugs her in a brief, somewhat uncomfortable embrace, and when Laura straightens, she turns to her companion, offering a gentle smile. “Well, if it isn’t Bradley Jackson.”

“Hey.” She’s tickled by Laura’s routine greeting. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.” As if on autopilot, she touches Bradley’s arm, and then says something she’d meant to keep to herself, “You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” Bradley blushes as she takes in Laura’s custom black pant suit with a low-cut white blouse under a vest. “I could say the same about you.”

Alex’s eyes dart from one woman to the other. She clears her throat as their eyes never leave each other’s. “I heard you’re dating the woman who plays Nini.”

Finally, Laura drags her eyes away from Bradley. “I am.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Alex comments.

“She’s great,” Bradley chimes in when finally finding her voice.

Alex is surprised her co-anchor has met the illustrious actress. “You’ve met Simone Moreau?”

She nods. “Laura invited me to a dinner party not that long ago.” Now, Bradley thinks, would be a good time to deflect. She doesn’t want to get trapped into discussing that night with Alex. “In fact, Maggie Brener was there asking questions about you.”

Her brows climb. “Maggie was there?”

“We’ve remained friends over the years.” Laura grabs two glasses of white wine from a server passing by, instinctively handing one to Bradley. “You know that, Alex.”

Bradley wordlessly takes the proffered glass, offering Laura an appreciative smile.

Again, Alex finds their interaction…peculiar. “I know, it’s just…” She shakes her hair over her shoulders. “I haven’t seen Maggie in a while.” She turns more fully to Laura. “How is she?”

Bradley pays close attention to the conversation, remembering Laura’s hint about Maggie and Alex having history.

“She’s great.” Laura sips the wine. “I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Alex huffs. “I highly doubt that unless it’s to pry even more into my relationship with Mitch.”

“I’d like to think Maggie cares more about you than she does about your relationship with Mitch,” Laura replies in a steady tone.

“I don’t know about that,” Alex lets out a strained laugh and glances over Bradley’s shoulder towards the bar. Talking about Maggie makes her anxious, so she decides to extract herself from the conversation altogether. “Excuse me…I need a drink.”

Once Alex is out of earshot, Bradley smirks and leans closer. “What was that about?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bradley.” She takes a sip of wine and steps closer. “I’m sure you can read between the lines.”

“I can.” She’s talking about something else entirely, and it’s not lost on Laura. “But thank you for reminding me sometimes it’s necessary.”

Laura offers a warm smile. “It is.” She doesn’t need to explain what she means by her statement any more than Bradley needs to explain what she means. Until meeting Bradley, she was genuinely happy with Simone, but now those feelings are being challenged.

Alex makes her way to the bar, stopping to say a quick hello to Eric.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

“Vodka soda with lime, please.”

While he makes the drink, she twists her neck to observe Bradley and Laura. Alex hasn’t always been the best at reading the room, but there’s no doubt the women were flirting—there’s no other word for it. As far as she knows, Bradley is straight, but her behavior with Laura is muddying the waters. She decides not to ask questions tonight, but she’ll keep an eye on how the evening proceeds.

“Thank you.” She takes the cocktail, then strikes up a conversation with Cory.

Meanwhile, Bradley takes a big sip of wine. “This is going to be weird.”

“Seeing Simone on stage?” Laura refuses to refer to her as her girlfriend in front of Bradley—even though it’s true, it feels like poor taste.

Bradley nods.

“She’s an actress. Within minutes, you won’t remember who she really is,” Laura notes. “When Simone is on stage, you’ll see her as a prostitute.”

Bradley laughs, appreciative of Laura’s sense of humor and apparent desire to make her feel comfortable in what will surely be an awkward situation.

Despite being in the room with Bradley for a mere 20 minutes, Laura still can’t concentrate on anything else. She yearns not only to be near her but also to touch her. She’s mostly successful until her deceitful fingers reach out to trail down Bradley’s arm. “Sit next to me?”

As if under a spell, Bradley blinks twice and nods. Laura could’ve asked her to lasso the moon, and her response would be the same—always yes.

The lights dim.

“Alright everyone,” Cory calls above the banter in the room. “Show’s about to start.”

Bradley tosses back the rest of her wine, then sets the glass on a table.

Laura puts her half-full glass next to the other, then gestures forward. “After you.”

They take their seats in the front row, and Bradley can physically feel Laura's presence next to her. During the first act, she leans close enough for their shoulders to touch. They have to consciously alter their posture to make it work, and it’s evident both women are drawn to each other. Bradley finds herself daydreaming through part of the performance, thinking about the attraction she has to a taken woman. She knows she shouldn’t be drawn to Laura the way she is, but she can’t help it. What she can help is the way she reacts to that attraction.

It’s surreal to watch Simone on stage, playing a prostitute of all things. Bradley glances at Laura several times throughout the show to see if there’s a hint of pride on her face when Nini sings and dances, but Laura’s expression remains neutral the entire time. Bradley isn’t sure if she’s simply enjoying herself or if Laura senses the awkwardness of sitting next to the woman she admitted being attracted to while her lover is on stage.

With this newly updated version of Moulin Rouge and the mainstream songs, Alex sings along and dances in her seat. She eyes Bradley and Laura a few times and notices the way their bodies angle towards each other. Their behavior is bizarre, but Alex keeps her thoughts to herself for now. Perhaps she’ll ask her co-anchor about it on Monday.

The only time Laura sits up straighter and moves away from Bradley is during the El Tango de Roxanne. This is Simone’s big moment, and she wants to give her the respect the performance deserves. At the end, Simone winks at Laura, and Bradley’s heart plummets at the flirtatious gesture.

When the show is over, Bradley has mixed feelings about attending the after party with the cast. She knows Simone will not only be there, but she’ll likely be on Laura’s arm. That’s a sight she’d rather avoid even though she enjoyed talking with Simone at the dinner party. Bradley has nothing against her other than she’s currently dating the woman who Bradley thinks belongs with her. That’s not something she’s proud of, so she keeps it buried in the recesses of her brain.

They make their way towards the elegant room where they enjoyed pre-show drinks, and Laura turns to enquire about Bradley’s cocktail preference.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Bradley states. “It’s been a long day.”

Laura’s heart sinks—she knows they can’t be together often, but now that they’re here, she doesn’t want the evening to end. “Stay for just one drink.”

Bradley looks into those deep, green eyes and feels Laura’s hand resting on the small of her back. She wishes they could dash into another room and let their inhibitions run wild, but that’s not going to happen.

“Please,” she whispers with a hand on Bradley's elbow.

This is new territory—Laura not only prides herself on her composure but also for the way she keeps her emotions in check. She hasn’t wanted anyone as much as she wants Bradley, which pushes her far out of her comfort zone. She can’t believe she’s standing there, begging Bradley to stay if only to be able to stand next to her for ten minutes longer.

“I guess I can stay for one drink.” She holds up a finger. “But only one.”

Laura’s smile widens. “Good. Bourbon?”

She singularly nods. “Bourbon sounds good.”

Laura moves to the bar and slips a $10 bill into the tip jar. “Two Makers on the rocks, please.”

Bradley stands next to her. “Simone was great.”

“I told you she would make you forget who she is in real life.” She takes one glass, handing it to Bradley. “Was I right?”

“You were.” She sips the amber liquid, nervous about seeing Simone interact with her girlfriend. “She should be here any minute.”

“Don’t worry...” Laura takes her hand, leading her to the darker side of the candle lit room. “I won’t make it uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Bradley replies through an uneasy laugh.

Laura doesn’t release her hand when they stop near a high-top table. “If you ever feel that way, tell me.”

She nods, staring into Laura’s mesmerizing eyes again. Before Bradley decides to put some space between them, the actors begin rolling in and everyone applauds.

As expected, Simone makes her way towards Laura and kisses her. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“You were terrific as always,” Laura responds.

“Hi, Bradley.” Simone reaches to shake her hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too, and terrific is an understatement.” She shakes it. “You stole the show.”

Simone notices how close her girlfriend is standing to Bradley, which makes her a little uncomfortable. She wraps an arm low around Laura’s waist as if silently claiming Laura as hers. “I hardly think that’s true.”

“No, you did,” Bradley gushes, trying to keep her eyes focused on Simone’s face rather than her proximity to Laura.

“Thank you,” she replies. “Was this the first time you’ve seen Moulin Rouge?”

“It was unless you count the performance my high school did back in the late 90s,” Bradley says through a smile. “Our Nini’s dance moves were a little better than yours,” she jokes.

Simone giggles. “I can’t compete with high school versions of Nini.”

Laura is tickled by Bradley’s quirky response and impressed by her ability to make what could’ve been an awkward conversation lighter.

Simone hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you anything?”

Bradley raises her glass. “I’m good, thanks.” She realizes she’s never had to ask for a drink—Laura has always been attentive enough to anticipate her needs. That’s not the case with Simone. It’s not a glaring omission, but it’s something worth noting.

Over the next half hour, Simone observes Bradley and Laura. They take turns making each other laugh—Bradley telling a story about her early broadcasting days and Laura matching it with one of her own. They seem to gravitate towards each other, shoulders touching through laughter, and Simone’s heart sinks, knowing she’s about to lose the woman with whom she’d been falling in love.

“I think I’ve put the pieces together.” Jessica Larson, who plays the lead in Moulin Rouge, hands Simone a cocktail.

Jessica has become a close friend, and after the dinner party when Simone caught Bradley and Laura on the floor cleaning spilled ice cream, she’d confided in Jessica. She didn’t mention Bradley by name—only alluded to another woman having captured Laura’s attention.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Jessica squeezes her arm.

“I’m not crazy, right?” Simone turns to her friend. “It’s obvious.”

Jessica lips twitch, and she wishes she could deny how clear it is that Bradley and Laura have a palpable connection. “Have you talked to her about it?”

Simone nods. “She swears nothing is going on.”

“Do you believe her?”

“I don’t think Laura is cheating on me.” Simone takes a sip of her drink. “Not physically at least.”

“Do you want me to interrupt them?” Jessica asks.

“God, no!” Simone quickly responds. “I’d look like a jealous fool if I asked you to purposely separate them.” She lets out a long sigh. “I guess it’s better to know now than a month from now.”

“Before you jump to conclusions, you should have another conversation,” Jessica offers. “Make sure you aren’t misinterpreting things.”

Simone gives her a look like she’s crazy. “For now, I’d like to get drunk and have fun with you and the rest of the cast.”

Jessica escorts her to the bar. “I can definitely make that happen.”

Despite her protest of only having one drink, Bradley enjoys Laura’s company too much to stop. She can’t seem to extract herself from the older woman’s company. She sips the rest of her second glass of bourbon, then glances at her phone to see it's after 11 p.m. “I should go.”

“But we’re having so much fun.” Laura recognizes the hopefulness in her voice; she can’t pretend not to want Bradley to stay even five minutes longer.

“I already extended my stay by having a second drink.” Bradley raises an accusatory eyebrow at Laura for keeping her at the party against her will, but her grin tells Laura she’s not really upset.

Laura knows she’s guilty of having persuaded her to stay, so she doesn’t protest any further. “I’ll walk you out.” She sets her glass down, then looks over at Simone and mouths, be right back.

Bradley exits through the side door and sucks in a deep breath of cold air. “I suppose tonight went better than expected.”

“It was fun.” Laura pulls out her phone. “I’ll call a car for you.”

Bradley gently pushes her hand down. “I can do that.”

Laura lowers the cell phone, then loosely links her fingers through Bradley’s. “Let me take care of you.”

Bradley blushes, eyeing their joined hands before meeting her eyes. “You’ve taken care of me since I spilled coffee on your shoes in Des Moines.”

“I enjoy it—not your dropping coffee on my shoes, but the taking care of you part.” She grins. “More than I probably should.”

Bradley releases her hand, then wraps her arms around Laura’s waist, resting her head on Laura’s chest. “Definitely more than you should.”

Laura strings her arms over Bradley’s shoulders, burying her head in the crook of her neck and taking in her barely-there floral scent. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I want too much?”

“Too much?” Bradley pulls back, scanning her eyes. “It’ll never be enough. Not like this anyway.”

Laura sucks in a deep breath and glances at the sky, wishing things were different and chastising herself for such thoughts. Simone is in the other room, presumably expecting to go home with her tonight, yet she’s outside in the frigid air without a coat, holding Bradley against her and not wanting to let go.

The car pulls to the curb, and Laura finally releases her. “I hope our paths cross again soon.”

“Me, too.” Bradley squeezes her hands once more before getting in the car. “Good night, Laura.”

“Good night.” When Laura turns around to return to the after party, Simone is standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk.”

Laura tightens her jaw and follows her inside. “If this is about Bradley, I…” She has no idea how to finish the sentence, so she’s grateful when Simone interrupts.

“It’s too late to get into things tonight.” Simone holds up a hand.

“It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up,” Laura tries. “Let’s go to my place. We can talk there.”

“Not tonight, Laura. Please.” Simone rubs her eyes. “I got some terrible news after the show and don’t have the energy to deal with both things tonight.”

Laura touches her arm. “What happened?”

She runs a hand through her hair but doesn’t respond.

“Whatever bad news you received; I want to help,” Laura pleads, taking a step closer.

The journalist in Laura won’t give up unless she gives her something, so Simone decides to tell her the dire news. “There’s a good chance everything will shut down next week because of the coronavirus.”

“What?” Laura knows the spread of Covid-19 is worsening, but she had no idea they’d stop production. “Just Moulin Rouge or all of Broadway?”

“All of it.” She widens her arms. “Apparently the virus is transported through air particles, so singers, actors and anyone who’s near someone else runs a high risk of contracting it.”

“That’s awful.” She pulls Simone into a hug. “What does that mean for the cast and crew?”

She shrugs. “I guess we’ll be out of a job as long as the virus continues to spread.”

Laura’s eyebrows climb. “There’s no alternative?”

“It’s not like your job where you can potentially do the broadcast remotely.” She begins walking towards the door that leads backstage. “Everything we do is in a group setting not to mention in front of an audience of hundreds of people.”

She follows her girlfriend out the room without saying goodbye to the UBA staff. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“I’d like to believe you, but…” Simone gives her a look between anguish and sorrow.

“Come home with me.” Laura squeezes her hand. “Come home with me, and we’ll talk about everything in the morning.”

Simone nods reluctantly, wondering if this might be the last night she’ll sleep in Laura Peterson’s bed.

Chapter Text

They don’t talk much during the ride to Laura’s place. She tries asking Simone questions about Broadway possibly going dark, but her one-word answers lead Laura to believe she’s not in the mood for idle chit chat. The same is true when they get to Laura’s house—they get ready for bed in silence, both thinking about the same woman but for very different reasons.

Once in bed, Simone leans in to kiss her girlfriend, and Laura wonders if she wants to fuck the pain away. They’d only gotten in one serious argument early in their relationship, and Simone admitted she often turned to sex to avoid hard conversations if for no other reason than to feel physically connected when words didn’t do the trick.

Laura wishes she wanted to have sex with her girlfriend, but she can’t pull the trigger. She tries to be in the moment when their lips meet, but she’s thinking about kissing someone else. It disturbs her to the core.

“I’m sorry…” Simone pulls back a moment before Laura has the chance, fingers touching her own lips as if they’re on fire. “I’m not in the right headspace tonight.”

Simone recalls the intimate moment she witnessed between Bradley and Laura in the kitchen two weeks ago and again at the theater tonight. She also felt the tentativeness of Laura’s kiss—there’s no way she can compete with the kind of feelings Laura has for someone else—and she doesn’t want to.

“I get it.” Laura rests her forehead against the other woman’s and closes her eyes. She’s frustrated with herself for allowing Bradley to infiltrate her thoughts. “Get some sleep.”

She nods, kisses Laura chastely on the lips, then turns off the lamp on her side of the bed.

Laura pulls the covers over her body and sighs. She won’t break up with Simone when she’s on the cusp on losing her job. Maybe the coronavirus will be short-lived, and they can discuss their relationship a couple weeks from now. That is if she can keep her feelings about Bradley at bay. She’d done fairly well during the 14 days when they kept their distance, but the moment she laid eyes on Bradley in the theater, their magnetism simmered to the surface again.

Tossing and turning, Laura remembers the advice her therapist had given her long ago to never go to sleep with a cluttered mind, especially if she could solve the issue, even just partially, that day. Not only would dwelling on negative thoughts provoke a fitful night of sleep, Dr. Burke offered, but the feelings she’d been keeping tucked inside would also gnaw at her gut. Laura had heeded her therapist’s advice since then and it’d served her well, so why did she think she could peacefully drift off to sleep when her heart was heavy tonight?

Fifteen minutes later, she abruptly sits up. “Are you awake?”

“Hmm?”

Laura reaches out to touch her shoulder. “I don’t think we should wait until tomorrow to talk.”

Simone rolls onto her back. “Can’t sleep?”

She reaches over to turn on the lamp. “No.”

“Is this about me possibly losing my job or something else?” Simone asks, figuring it’s the latter rather than the former and worrying where this conversation will leave them.

Laura lowers her head and rubs her eyes with one hand, steeling herself for what’s bound to be a tough discussion. “It’s about Bradley.”

Simone sighs, wishing her girlfriend had never gone to Iowa to interview Bradley Jackson. They were on the verge of something special, and Simone was convinced another month or so from now, they would’ve agreed to move in together. All that changed one unfortunate February morning.

“I know you saw us a couple times in what appeared to be…strange moments,” Laura begins, folding the sheet over her lap. “And I assume you’re worried.”

“I don’t know if worried is the right word.” She props a pillow against the headboard before leaning against it. “Come to think of it, I don’t think strange moments is how I’d describe what I witnessed.”

She blinks several times, unable to meet Simone’s gaze.

“They were intimate moments, Laura,” she states, twisting her neck until her girlfriend looks at her. “I realize she spilled ice cream after dinner and you were helping clean it up, but the way you held Bradley’s hand; the way you looked at her…It’s the same way you looked at her before she left the theater tonight.”

Laura pinches the bridge of her nose. Simone is right—the moments she shared with Bradley were intimate—there’s no other word for it. She’d tried to put the notion aside, but Laura isn’t blind to the fact she and Bradley found themselves in vulnerable positions more than once and neither did anything about it. Laura nearly chokes on the idea that she physically cannot move away from Bradley any time they share the same space.

“Maybe you don’t want to acknowledge it, but there’s something going on between the two of you,” Simone continues, feeling like she’s going to be sick but needing to pursue the truth even if it’s painful. “I’m not imagining things—I’ve seen glimpses of it.”

She lays a hand on Simone’s thigh. “What I’ve said before is true—I would never cheat on you.”

“I’m not concerned about you cheating on me—not physically at least.” She folds her legs underneath the sheets.

Laura notices Simone hasn’t reached for her hand or shown any signs of welcoming her touch.

“I want to be mistaken, but the relationship you seem to have with Bradley runs deeper than just a physical connection.”

She’d always found her girlfriend to be perceptive, but Laura didn’t think she and Bradley had made their attraction abundantly obvious. “Maybe we do have a connection, but I’m committed to you.”

“Just because we decided to be in an exclusive relationship doesn’t mean we’re obligated to be together,” Simone offers through a quick, discouraged breath. “It’s not like we’re engaged—hell, we’re not even living together.”

“But I…”

“Things change; feelings change.” Simone shrugs. “Sometimes we meet people at the best time in our lives and sometimes at the worst.” She sits up straighter and looks into Laura’s eyes. “You can’t help how you feel about Bradley even though you’re committed to me.”

“You might lose your job because of this fucking virus.” Laura tips her chin forward as if needing her girlfriend to understand how serious she is. “I won’t leave you when your world is about to get flipped upside down.”

“That’s your reason for staying?” she lets out a skeptical laugh.

“I don’t think you understand my level of commitment,” Laura tries.

“You’re one of the kindest, noblest women I’ve ever met.” Simone finally takes her hand. “I don’t want to lose you but staying with me because I’m about to be unemployed isn’t good enough.”

“That’s not the only reason.” Laura links their fingers together. “I love being with you—we’re good together.”

“Answer this honestly…” She pauses and waits for Laura to meet her eyes again. “Are you attracted to Bradley Jackson?”

Laura swallows hard and glances away, unable to hold her girlfriend’s stare. “I don’t want to be,” comes out in a low, uneven breath.

Simone releases her hand and feels a pang in her chest. She didn’t need Laura to confirm her attraction, but now that she has, it upsets her deeply. “You owe it to yourself to see where that leads.” Despite the sting of tears threatening to fall, she places a hand on Laura’s cheek. “I can’t be with you if you’re constantly wondering what it might feel like to be with Bradley.”

“But…” Laura feels her own eyes well with tears. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Simone lifts her shoulders. “You’d be hurting me more if you stayed for the wrong reasons.”

Laura twists her neck and kisses the palm of her girlfriend’s hand. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go for us.”

“Neither did I.” She sniffs. “But we both deserve to be happy.”

She pulls Simone into a deep embrace. “You’re too good for me.”

“Probably,” she lets out a wet laugh.

“I’m really sorry.” Laura pulls back, cupping her face with both hands. “I wish I was half as brave as you are.”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Tears stream down her cheeks, falling onto Laura’s hands. “I’d hate to drag this out until we’re both miserable.”

“I’ve never been miserable with you.” Laura releases the other woman’s face to wipe her own tears with her pajama sleeve.

“No, but at some point, resentment would settle in.” She kisses Laura’s cheek before crawling out of bed. “That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Laura hangs her head, hardly believing their relationship is coming to an end. There’s an ache in her chest at losing the woman she’d cared deeply about for several months—still cares deeply about despite her feelings for Bradley.

“I need time to process all this.” She starts tossing the few things she brought to Laura’s place into a duffle bag. “But I hope one day we can be friends.”

Laura gets out of bed, wrapping her arms around Simone’s back and kissing her shoulder. “I’d like that very much.”

She turns around, stringing her arms over Laura’s shoulders.

“I’ll call you soon.” She tucks her chin into Simone’s neck.

“Actually, I’d rather reach out to you first.” Simone swats at the tears on her face.

Laura nods. “Whatever you need.”

She pulls back, then straps the bag over her shoulder. “Right now, I just need time.”

Laura’s heart plummets as she watches her now ex-girlfriend proceed down the hallway towards the door. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Simone lets out a ragged breath. “Goodbye, Laura.”

She doesn’t return the sentiment for fear of bursting into tears. Instead, Laura opens the door and offers the best smile she can muster. When Simone is out of sight, she closes the door and bows her head, allowing the tears to roll freely down her face. A deep, guttural pain settles throughout her body. Hurting Simone stings like a poisonous arrow to her heart.

Part of her doesn’t want to be attracted to Bradley, and right now, it’s a major part that almost makes her run after Simone and beg her to give their relationship another chance. She knows it would only be a temporary solution to a much bigger problem because she is attracted to Bradley in a profound, almost overpowering way. There’s no way Laura can ignore that attraction much longer and she knows there will be moments in the future when she’ll come face to face with Bradley, feeling sick for not being able to touch her the way she’d like. She allows herself to grieve as she crawls back into bed.

Even the next morning when she wakes up, there’s a pang of guilt in her chest for leaving a wonderful woman for the chance that she and Bradley might have something real and everlasting. It’s a huge gamble, but Laura’s gut tells her it could be one worth taking.

Later that afternoon, she schedules a 15-minute check in with Dr. Burke even if it’s only to get a few words of advice. Next week, she’ll have a regular, hour-long session where they can dive deeper into her sadness for walking away from Simone as well as her irrefutable attraction to Bradley.

After enjoying time with Laura much more than she probably should’ve at the Broadway show, Bradley doesn’t hear from her for two weeks. She asks a few people who work on UBA 365 about Laura’s whereabouts, and one of the production assistants confirms she’s on assignment in Seattle then San Francisco, reporting on the confirmed Covid cases where it all began in the United States. Along with the rest of the public, Bradley knows Laura has a heart condition that would make her more prone to contracting the virus, and she’s worried Laura might be putting herself at risk.

Bradley knows she shouldn’t worry as much about Laura as she does, seeing as how they agreed to keep their distance and that Laura is still coupled, but she finds herself caring about her more than she’s cared about anyone in her life with the exception of her brother. She still thinks about Laura multiple times a day, wondering what she’s doing, who she’s with. Sometimes Bradley daydreams about what life would be like with Laura by her side. Maybe they’d go to fancy dinners in the city; check into a bed & breakfast in a sleepy New England town; attend a concert at Madison Square Garden; or enjoy quiet nights at home, ordering Chinese food and watching classic movies. That last one makes Bradley smile—she loves the idea of being domestic with Laura where the only argument they’d possibly have would be which was the better movie, The Godfather I or II.

As she rides back to the Archer Gray, Bradley glances out the window. A few people are wearing surgical masks, which makes her wonder what kind of devastation this virus will leave in its wake. It’s difficult to fathom New York City shuttering because of Covid, yet she finds herself reporting about the possibility of Manhattan businesses closing within a matter of days. Four private schools have already decided to pivot to online learning and New York City public schools are trying to figure out the logistics of remote learning when so many of its students don’t have access to reliable Internet. Bradley is starting to become frightened by the coronavirus in a way she hadn’t experienced until now.

That evening as she picks at the Cobb salad she ordered from room service; she receives a text message out of the blue. Been thinking about you…a lot.

Bradley squints at her phone, surprised yet ecstatic to see Laura’s name atop the text. She’s also puzzled why Laura decided to inform her that she misses her a full two weeks since they saw each other. After Laura made it clear they shouldn’t spend time together, Bradley figured neither of them would contact the other unless it was related to their respective shows. She’d even pondered fabricating some news story they could do jointly just to be in the same room with the veteran reporter again.

She desperately wants to tell Laura the truth—she hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they met. But first she needs to assess the situation. Bradley decides to initially deflect with humor. Are you in Des Moines or something?

Just returned from the West Coast.

That doesn’t answer her question, so Bradley tries again. And you’ve been thinking about me?

A lot.

Now she wonders if someone has hacked Laura’s phone. Who is this?

The dots dance on her phone, then the screen lights up. She sees Laura is calling instead of texting. “Hello?”

“Did you think someone stole my phone?” Laura answers.

“Yeah, actually, I did.”

She chuckles. “It’s really me.”

Bradley swoons at the husky sound of her voice. “Now that I hear your voice, I believe you.”

“I mean it, Bradley,” she says without pretense. “I needed to get away for a while to process things, but I’ve been thinking about you…a lot.”

“I’m flattered, but…” she trails off, wanting to return the sentiment but unwilling to be vulnerable until she knows more about what’s going on inside Laura’s brain.

Laura sits on her sofa, resting a tumbler of Scotch on her thigh. “Simone and I decided to end things.”

“Oh…I’m…I’m so sorry.” Bradley covers her heart with a hand, genuinely feeling bad for Laura. Breakups are always painful, and she doesn’t wish that kind of grief on someone she cares deeply about. She refuses to allow herself to experience any kind of glee or relief despite the news that’s surely to her advantage. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She brings the liquor to her mouth. “But it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“I can imagine.” Bradley pours a glass of wine, wishing she was sitting across from Laura instead of speaking on the phone. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“I’d like that, but not now—not like this.” She swirls the amber liquid in her glass. “Are you free Saturday evening?”

She’s taken aback by the invitation. “I thought we were trying to keep our distance.”

“We were,” Laura replies. “I was in a committed relationship; not seeing you was essential to honoring that.”

It’s hard for Bradley to wrap her head around Laura being single, though she welcomes the idea that maybe, just maybe, they have a shot at something special. “I guess I’d just gotten used to putting up barriers.”

“If you don’t want to—”

Bradley cuts her off. “No, I want to see you. I do…”

“Why do I detect a but coming?”

Bradley examines her conscience for a moment, worried about wearing her heart on her sleeve. Then again, they’d been honest with each other from the start. “There’s no but, Laura. I’d love to see you.”

“Good.” She smiles, heart feeling like it could jump out of her chest. “Come to my place on Saturday. I’ll make something special.”

She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her left ear. “What can I bring?”

“Nothing—just yourself.”

“I’m gonna show up with something,” she replies in a distinguished Southern accent, feeling far more at ease now. “My mama didn’t raise me right in a lot of ways, but she told me never to show up empty handed.”

“You don’t need to bring anything,” Laura chuckles, setting her tumbler on the coffee table. “But I’ve never turned down a bottle of wine.”

“Wine it is.” She smiles. “Looking forward to it.”

“So am I. See you in two days.”

Bradley hangs up, presses the phone against her chest and grins. She couldn’t see a way to get to know Laura better while she was dating Simone, but now that things have shifted, maybe they can explore what it would feel like to be friends without restrictions. Who is she kidding? She wants to explore a hell of a lot more than friendship with Laura Peterson and is excited at the prospect of doing precisely that.

Chapter Text

Although she spends an hour looking up recipes for a meal to prepare on Saturday night, Laura knows whatever she cooks won’t matter. She could serve cold turkey sandwiches and be pleased as punch as long as she was in the presence of the woman who’d captured her attention (and perhaps her heart) the moment they’d met. Nevertheless, Laura picks up Yellowfin tuna, fingerling potatoes, and asparagus from the market. Dinner might appear extravagant, but she can throw it all together within 30 minutes.

Just before seven o’clock, she pulls down two Champagne flutes and ensures the Krug is perfectly chilled. She hopes they’ll have something to celebrate, but even if things progress slowly or not at all, bubbles are always an excellent mood lifter.

Bradley arrives four minutes early, something she’s not prone to doing, and wipes her sweaty hand on her jeans before hitting the buzzer. She’s never been fussy about choosing what to wear on a date, yet she found herself changing four times before settling on jeans and a patterned Anthropologie blouse, which happened to be the first outfit she tried on anyway.

Laura checks her appearance one last time before greeting her guest. “Hi. Welcome.” She steps aside. “Come in.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” She drags her eyes past Laura’s slightly exposed chest to her well-fitting Roberto Cavalli denim. Long before Bradley met the veteran journalist, she found Laura very pretty, so being in her presence has upped the ante on Laura’s significant attractiveness in Bradley’s eyes. “I brought you this.”

Laura takes the bottle of Viognier and examines the label. “This’ll be perfect with the tuna steaks. Thank you.”

Bradley proceeds inside and glances around the room, recalling the only other time she’d been to Laura’s house for the dinner party. There’s light music playing in the background, and it smells like teakwood and leather with just a hint of basil. In other words, it smells like Laura, and Bradley can’t get enough. “I don’t know if I ever properly thanked you for dinner that night.”

Laura reaches for her jacket. “You did, actually.”

“Well, I’m thanking you again.” Bradley shrugs out of her hunter green leather jacket. “The only thing better than the food was the company.”

Laura smiles. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

“I’m serious—I enjoyed talking to everyone I met that night.” Bradley follows her into the kitchen. “By the way, did Trevor and Gordon go on a date?”

“They did.” Laura pulls the Champagne out of the fridge. “In fact, they’ve been out twice since the party.”

“That’s great.” Bradley’s lips tic up. “I don’t hear many successful set-up stories. Good for them.”

“Gordon told me to stop asking about Trevor, which leads me to believe he’s anxious to see if their relationship will last.” She pours the Krug into two glasses. “I’m not very good at heeding his advice, so I’ll ask again on Monday.”

Bradley chuckles, taking the proffered glass. “Thank you.”

“May I propose a toast?” Laura raises her flute.

She nods. “Please do, yes.”

“To new beginnings.” Laura taps her glass against Bradley’s, then takes a sip.

“I’ll drink to that.” She sips the expensive bubbly. “Mmm, this is delicious.”

Laura sticks the bottle back in the refrigerator. “If you like dry Champagne, Krug Grand Cuvée is at the top of my list.”

Bradley moves to the living room. “I prefer dry over sweet unless I’m drinking it with dessert.”

“Same.” Laura follows her, then sits on the far end of the sofa. “I have a Sauternes to go with a lemon tart for dessert if you’re interested.”

“Sounds perfect,” she responds, not knowing what Sauternes is but trusting Laura’s wine knowledge.

Laura casually strings an arm over the back of the sofa even though her pulse is elevated and her hands are sweaty. “I’m glad you could join me tonight.”

Bradley has always been good at small talk, but her nerves haven’t settled since Laura opened the door. She knows they’ll eventually discuss the breakup, but she’s unsure where things will land after that. She hopes they’ll end in a kiss if nothing else, but she refuses to get too far ahead of herself.

“I’m glad you invited me.” She sits next to Laura, leaving a cushion between them. “I didn’t know when we’d talk again much less see each other.”

“Yeah.” She takes a sip. “I take responsibility for that.”

Bradley wrinkles her forehead. “For what?”

“For asking if we could put some distance between us,” Laura replies. “It was the only way I could remain faithful to Simone.”

Bradley juts her head back, surprised by Laura’s honesty; then again, Laura has always been blunt when confessing her feelings. “I’m sorry I put you in an awkward position.”

“You didn’t do anything specific to make it awkward.” She lifts her shoulders. “Your mere presence made it so.”

“You’re giving me too much credit,” Bradley says through nervous laughter.

Laura tilts her head. “Am I?”

If she hadn’t been bold enough to kiss Laura in the back seat of a sedan, Bradley might’ve been bold enough to kiss her right now, but she doesn’t want it to backfire like last time. All signs point to now being a more appropriate time, but she refuses to jump the gun. She needs Laura to take the first step toward anything physical tonight to ensure they’re on the same page.

Although it takes a decent amount of restraint, Bradley doesn’t fall for the flirtatious tilt of the other woman’s head; besides, she wants to clear the air before expressing her feelings. “Can we talk about what happened with Simone?”

“Yeah.” Laura sips the Champagne, hoping she doesn’t appear as anxious as she feels. “That night at the theater…You and I were…” She hesitates. “We were inseparable.”

Bradley glances away, feeling guilty for never wanting to leave Laura’s side yet enjoying every second of it.

“I’m not blaming you—” As if sensing Bradley’s discomfort, Laura clarifies. “I’m not even blaming myself, though it was very much my choice to spend time with you that night.”

She brings the glass to her mouth. “I think we both had a hand in that.”

“Simone noticed how we acted when we were together,” Laura continues, twirling the base of the glass against her thigh. “First there was the ice cream incident, and then the theater.”

She feels a blush creeping up her neck. “How could I forget the ice cream thing?”

Laura’s lips turn up just a bit. “We weren’t exactly sly.”

The blush spreads to Bradley’s cheeks when she thinks about the way Laura dabbed the stain on her blouse, and then when they were on the floor and their hands touched.

“That night at the theater, Simone was standing in the doorway when I hugged you goodbye,” she goes on. “I think that’s when she realized something was going on.”

Bradley shakes her head forcefully. “But nothing was going on—we made sure of it.”

“True but put yourself in Simone’s shoes.” Laura sets her glass on the coffee table. “How would you feel if you saw your girlfriend flirting with another woman not once but twice?”

“I’d feel sick to my stomach,” she admits. “I’m not justifying our actions.”

“No, I know.” Laura tucks her hand underneath her thigh as if that’ll prevent her from reaching out to touch Bradley. “What made matters worse was that Simone found out that night Moulin Rouge was possibly shutting down because of Covid. She was anxious about both things.”

“I can’t imagine how she must’ve felt,” Bradley replies. “Broadway went dark last week.”

“It did.” She picks her flute up again. “We tried going to sleep that night, but I tossed and turned for a while before asking Simone if we could talk.”

Bradley bites the inside of her lip, not looking forward to hearing she was likely the cause of Laura’s breakup. She also doesn’t like the image that popped into her head of Laura sharing a bed with Simone even though she was her girlfriend at the time.

“Simone referred to the times she witnessed our interactions as intimate,” Laura says. “I told her I’d never cheat on her and I wouldn’t leave her when she might be out of a job.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Then she asked a simple question.” Laura pauses, taking the final sip of Champagne. “She asked if I was attracted to you.”

She swallows hard, anxiously awaiting her response.

Laura clenches her jaw. “I told her I didn’t want to be.”

Bradley tightens her grip on the glass with one hand and squeezes her leg with the other to keep from lunging forward to kiss Laura. However, her elation is short lived when she thinks about how painful it must’ve been to admit that to Simone.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position,” Bradley repeats for the second time. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, but it was the truth.” Laura sets her now empty glass down. “I needed some time to process what I was feeling. I talked to my therapist and decided to take the on-location job on the West Coast for UBA 365 to get away from it all.”

Bradley’s face crinkles as she nods. “Did it help?”

“It did.” A small smile surfaces. “After two nights in Seattle and one in San Francisco, I decided to spend some time at my ranch in Montana. Being there is always cathartic.”

She nods. “I bet.”

Laura tilts her head. “Now I’m curious about the other half of the equation.”

She sticks her thumb to her chest. “You mean me?”

“Yes, I mean you,” Laura chuckles in an easy going way though her insides are about to burst.

She swigs the last of the Champagne, then sets the glass next to Laura’s. Now that the most difficult part is out there, Bradley decides to make Laura work for it. “What do you want to know?”

“Where should I begin?” Laura reaches for her hand, gently caressing the back of it. “I want to know what you take in your coffee; your morning routine; what you read for pleasure.”

Bradley’s heart is pumping so hard she feels like Laura can see it. She wants nothing more than to kiss the woman in front of her, but she’s sticking to her promise not to make the first move.

She traces a pattern on Bradley’s palm. “I want to know if you read the paper version of The New York Times or if you prefer to read it online.”

Bradley giggles; she’s touched by Laura’s curiosity. “How do you know I read The New York Times at all?”

“Call it a hunch,” she replies through a light laugh of her own. “I want to know the name of your favorite café near Central Park; how you stay so fit; why you still live in a hotel.”

“I’m happy to tell you those things.” Bradley places a hand on Laura’s knee, thumb caressing it through thick denim. “But I’d rather you find out on your own.”

She smirks. “I’d be amenable to that.”

Bradley tilts her head. “Is there anything you want to know right now?”

It’s Laura’s turn to flirt. “Like what?”

“Like what it would feel like to kiss me?” she boldly enquires.

“I’ve had that opportunity.” Laura leans forward, lips gently brushing hers. “It was exhilarating as I recall.”

All Bradley sees is stars. She parts her lips slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen, and brings a hand up to Laura’s cheek.

“But I had to stop back then.” She pulls back, looking into Bradley’s deep blue eyes. “I have no intention of stopping now—I mean, if you’re ok with that.”

Considering she didn’t make the first move, Bradley finds this the perfect time to lunge forward, kissing Laura with gusto, something she’s wanted to do since greeting her at the door.

Their kisses are frantic and needy—there’s no grace or tenderness involved—that will come later. Right now, they want to feel each other in a way they’ve only dreamt about. She unbuttons Bradley's blouse, kissing a line across her chest, and Bradley begins untucking Laura’s shirt before pausing.

“Wait,” Bradley pants. “Are we...Is this...?”

Laura sits back, waiting for her to continue.

“You just got out of a relationship,” Bradley starts. “I don’t want to jump into something...physical...if you’re not ready.”

“Bradley, honey...” Laura takes her hand, bringing it to her chest. “You and I established an emotional connection long before tonight. I spent two weeks deliberating how to do this right—how to let you know this is more than just an occasional dalliance.” She cups Bradley’s cheek. “For fear of getting too far ahead of myself, let me just say, I’m invested in you. I haven’t felt like this about someone in a very, very long time if ever.”

Bradley is stunned by her confession.

Laura rubs her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “If you’re not ready to take this any further, just say the word.”

Bradley’s eyes roam from Laura’s eyes to her lips to her chest, then back to her lips. She has wanted Laura for a long time—yearned for her in a sort of desperate way. Now that Laura has confirmed her feelings, it’s time to show her she’s not the only one ready to take the next step.

She springs forward just like she did in the car, and kisses Laura deeply. She finishes untucking the other woman’s blouse while Laura helps Bradley shrug out of hers. It doesn’t take long to rid each other of excess clothing, and before Bradley knows it, she’s writhing underneath a very naked Laura Peterson who has begun to rub a finger in her slit.

There’s no way, Laura thinks, Bradley’s body could be any more perfect. From her voluptuous breasts to the curve of her waist to the fullness of her ass—it’s all fucking perfect. She can hardly believe she’s waited this long to touch her, but it was very much worth the wait. “You feel incredible.”

Bradley’s hands roam from her back to her ass. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

Laura leans forward, placing another sloppy kiss on her mouth. “Tell me about your dream.”

“It wasn’t just one.” She sucks one of Laura’s dangling breasts into her mouth, earning a moan. “I had lots of them. We were doing things like this.”

Laura rubs her clit in quick circles. “Like this?”

She grins. “Yeah, like that.”

She kisses her again, fingers never leaving Bradley’s most sensitive spot. “Did you dream of me using my mouth?”

She nods.

Laura stills and pulls back to look into her eyes. “Is that something you’d like?”

She gathers Laura’s long, dark hair with one hand, holding it behind her head. “Very much.”

She kisses her way down Bradley’s body, spending an inordinate amount of time on her breasts before venturing lower. Laura smirks when she sees the Brazilian wax on her perfect little pussy. “Are you always this well-groomed or were you hoping for a special occasion?”

Bradley blushes. “Maybe a little wishful thinking.”

She takes a big whiff of Bradley’s center. “I hope I live up to your expectations.” Laura dives in with her tongue, and Bradley’s hips rise off the sofa.

Bradley rests her arm on her forehead and feels her breath hitch in her throat. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

A light laugh emanates from Laura’s mouth before she places it directly over Bradley’s center. She nips, bites, and sucks her pussy until Bradley convulses beneath her. Laura makes note of how quickly Bradley gets off, and her only disappointment is that it took less than five minutes. She’d been enjoying the way Bradley tasted far too much for it to be over so soon.

“Holy shit,” Bradley pants.

Laura’s proud grin is in full effect. She kisses her way back up Bradley’s body, once again, spending time tonguing her breasts before reaching her mouth. Bradley holds her chin between her thumb and index finger and licks her own juices off Laura’s face.

“Well, that’s hot,” Laura comments. She’d only been with one other woman who enjoyed the taste of herself, but she didn’t hold a candle to Bradley Jackson. “Do you like the way you taste?”

She nods.

Laura runs two fingers up and down her slit, then brings them to Bradley’s mouth.

She sucks the fingers into her mouth, and Laura slowly pulls them in and out until Bradley moans. She dips them in her pussy once more, repeating the motion. If Laura wasn’t turned on before, she surely is now.

“I want to taste you,” Bradley says as she wraps her hand around Laura’s wrist to extract her fingers. She reaches between them, dipping her index finger into Laura’s folds, thrilled to see how wet she is. “Is this turning you on?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Laura’s voice is deep; husky.

She shimmies down the sofa, silently indicating where she wants Laura’s center. Laura gets on her knees and scoots forward until her pussy lines up with Bradley’s mouth. She licks her lips before raising her head to take her fist lick. Laura’s head lulls back and she lets out a low growl. Bradley places her hands on her ass and dives in for more.

It’s been years since she’s done this to another woman, and she recalls instantly how much she enjoys eating a woman out. Laura tastes tangy but there’s a hint of Champagne and pineapple that makes her dizzy with desire. Bradley can’t get enough of her into her mouth, though she tries. After circling her clit several times, Bradley senses she’s close as Laura’s legs clinch around her head.

“I’m so close, Bradley…right there.”

She feels Laura’s juices dripping down her chin, and after she makes her cum, she can’t wait to taste the residue of sex. Three more licks and Laura comes undone, writhing above her and yelling unintelligible words. The orgasm lasts longer than Bradley expects and she’s mildly jealous at the pleasure Laura is experiencing compared to her much quicker orgasm.

Finally, Laura sits on her chest and tries to catch her breath. “Fuck.”

“Good?” she asks around a smirk, wiping her chin with two fingers, then sucking them into her mouth.

“Very.” She moves down Bradley’s body until their faces are even. “Thank you.”

She leans up for a deep kiss.

Laura brushes matted blonde hair off Bradley’s forehead. “Not just for the phenomenal sex, but for being patient with me.”

Bradley smiles. “Did you think this would ever happen?”

“I wanted it to.” She pecks her lips then a flash of guilt crosses her face. “More than I should have.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Bradley responds. “You did the noble thing, Laura. You really did.”

“You inadvertently helped with that.” Laura tucks herself behind Bradley after a quick kiss, then wraps her arms around her waist.

She weaves their fingers together. “How’d I help?”

“Do you have any idea the power you had over me?” Laura thinks better of the statement. “Have over me?”

Bradley turns her neck and blinks up at her. “What do you mean?”

“The times we were together before this—if you would’ve kissed me or even rubbed my arm a certain way, I wouldn’t have been able to resist,” Laura begins, sincerity etched on her brow. “Thank you for your willpower.”

“I didn’t want you to cheat on Simone.” She cups the side of Laura’s head. “That wouldn’t have been a good way to start whatever might happen between us.”

“Whatever might happen?” she chuckles.

“Yeah.” Bradley grins, opening her legs a bit so Laura can rest her bent knee between them.

Laura lays her palm flat against her toned stomach. “What do you want to happen?”

She feels a blush spreading across her cheeks. “I think I want to be with you.”

“You think?” Laura asks.

Bradley rubs a finger across Laura’s swollen lower lip. “Well, now that I know how good you are in bed, I guess I’m beyond just thinking.”

Laura laughs, then sobers. “I did need time to process everything, but there was one thing I was sure of all along—I’ve wanted to be with you, Bradley, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”

She leans up, placing a chaste kiss on Laura’s mouth.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Laura whispers with sincerity.

Bradley smiles. “I would’ve waited weeks, months, maybe even years if it meant I’d have the chance to fall in love with you.”

Laura’s eyes widen. She figured Bradley felt something for her, but she didn’t know it was love—not that Bradley is confessing her love outright, but it seems she’s open to the possibility.

She absentmindedly draws circles on Bradley’s belly. “Is that where this is headed?”

“I think so.” Bradley’s fingertips trail up and down her arm. “Do you?”

“Yes.” She kisses the tip of her nose, basking in the feel of this woman’s body pressed against hers and never wanting to let go. “I do.”

After a moment of consequential confessions, Laura decides to be playful. “Should I call the U-Haul or do we have to wait a few weeks?”

Bradley lets out a boisterous laugh. “Maybe we should hold off for one or two weeks before we make that level of commitment.”

“That long?” she quips, sitting up and forcing Bradley to do the same.

“Don’t worry.” Bradley kisses her. “It’ll fly by in no time.”

“That reminds me…” Laura searches for her clothes, handing Bradley her underwear and jeans before finding her own. “I’m going to wait out the whole Covid thing at my ranch. You should join me.”

Laura had been thinking about inviting her to the ranch when she decided to book a one-way ticket last week when the Covid numbers spiked, but the thought never materialized until now. She knows it’s probably too soon, but she can’t help wanting to spend every waking moment with Bradley especially now that they’ve been intimate.

Bradley stops mid-motion with one leg in her jeans. “But I’m on TV five days a week.”

“So, give it up. For me.” Laura buttons her blouse. “I don’t like when my woman works.”

She lowers her leg. “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m not serious,” Laura pulls back with a light laugh. “I have a little studio on the ranch.”

“No, not that,” Bradley responds. “Am I your woman?”

Laura finds it endearing that’s the part Bradley latches onto. “Yeah…uhm, something like that.” Once again, she recognizes how early it is to state something so loaded, but Laura knew she’d want Bradley to be her woman long before tonight.

Bradley’s chin dimples and her entire face fills with pride. Laura struck a chord she didn’t even know she was aiming for, but it’s life-affirming to be the recipient of Bradley’s smile. She leans forward, bringing her right hand to Laura’s cheek and kisses her. Something shifts between them in that moment even more than when they were having sex.

“I don’t know what’s going on yet with work,” Bradley starts. “But, yeah, I’d like to spend time on your ranch if it all works out.”

“Good.”

Bradley troubles her lower lip. “Do you, um, do you think it’s too soon?”

“Probably.” Laura nods as she finishes getting dressed. “But I love what I’ve learned about you so far and want that to continue as much as possible.”

She’s relieved Laura agrees it’s probably too soon, but like Laura, she’s eager to get to know her better. Bradley is also eager to be under the sheets with Laura Peterson as often as humanly possible.

“I need to get away from the city because of my heart condition,” Laura continues. “The sooner, the better, but I understand you have things to take care of here.”

She nods.

“Covid tests are few and far between right now, but I assume they’ll be readily available in a few weeks.” She holds a hand out, and Bradley takes it and gets to her feet. “If you want to stay in New York until you know the network’s plan, then quarantine in Montana, I have a guest house you can use.”

She buttons her jeans. “That’s awfully generous.”

Laura grabs both empty flutes with one hand, then tugs Bradley towards the kitchen. “And if we stay in the same house eventually but it doesn’t work out, you could always retreat there.”

Bradley stops, their joined hands stretching until Laura turns around. “Do you think that’s a possibility—that we won’t get along?”

“From what I’ve gathered so far…” She leans down, kissing her. “It seems improbable.”

The thought of sharing a home with Laura hadn’t crossed her mind, but now that the seed has been planted, Bradley is overjoyed.

“I can’t predict the future any better than you can.” Laura cradles her face and pecks her lips a few times. “But the only way we’ll know is if we try.”

“I’d like that.” Bradley wraps her fingers around Laura’s wrists. “A lot.”

“Then it’s settled.” She smirks. “Find out what’s going on with broadcasting remotely, and if you can join me in a few days or even a few weeks, I’ll be waiting.”

It’s Bradley’s turn to smile. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s get dinner on the stove.”

They spend the rest of the evening cooking, drinking, eating, flirting and touching each other whenever the mood strikes. At one point just after dessert, Bradley is convinced Laura is going to fuck her against the kitchen counter, but she pulls back and invites her to the living room for a glass of Sauternes.

“Would you…” Bradley hesitates, wondering if it’s too soon to pose the question she’d been pondering since after they made love on that very sofa. “Would it be ok if I spent the night?”

“I’m not sure how much sleep we’ll get, but yeah.” Laura’s knees poke against Bradley’s thigh as she twirls a strand of blonde hair around a finger. “I’d love that.”

Bradley tilts her head, leaning in for a kiss. “What if I never want to leave?”

Laura blinks at her a few times, then says barely above a whisper, “Then don’t.”

The women abandon their glasses of sweet, French wine in favor of savoring something else entirely in bed.

Laura leaves Manhattan two days after having sex for the first time with Bradley and as absurd as it is, both women get teary eyed upon her departure. It’s stupid, Laura thinks, how much Bradley has come to mean to her in such a short amount of time, but she can’t deny the vice grip Bradley has had on her heart since first meeting on the plane to Iowa. It’s true they’ve only been ‘together’ for a couple days, but her feelings have been blooming for months. The more Laura gets to know her, the more she’s attracted to her. She’s told a few friends about this fondness, but Laura never discloses her true feelings—she’s almost embarrassed by how strong they are.

Bradley enquires daily about the plan to switch to remote broadcasting, but the network drags their feet for a week. Finally, the last week in March, the news comes down that every journalist will begin doing the show remotely. A tech team shows up at the Archer Gray later that day to walk Bradley through how to use the equipment, and she takes precise notes so when she leaves for Montana, there are no surprises.

As soon as the tech team leaves, she calls Laura.

“I wasn’t expecting your call until later.” Laura props the phone against the counter as she cracks an egg into a sizzling pan.

“I just got trained on how to use all the equipment to do the broadcast from home,” Bradley begins. “It’s finally happening.”

She sprinkles salt and pepper onto the egg. “Is that exciting or frightening?”

“A little of both, I guess.” Bradley turns on the ring light behind her laptop. “If the offer still stands, I’d like to come to Montana.”

A smile spreads across Laura’s face. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“I know I’ll have to quarantine and all, but I miss you too much to wait any longer.”

“I miss you, too.” It’s only been two weeks since Laura’s departure, but she’s missed Bradley more than she thought she would. “I’m happy to line up a private jet if you’d like.”

“If you have a company you use, I can make arrangements.”

“I’ll text you their contact information.” She flips the egg. “When do you hope to come?”

“I’m hoping to cum very soon,” Bradley jokes in her best seductive voice, hoping Laura picks up on the double entendre.

She grins. “I see what you did there—very funny.”

Bradley opens the curtains, letting the bright sunlight stream in. “As for the flight though, give me a couple days.”

“I’ll make sure the guest house is ready,” Laura replies.

“Can’t wait.”

“Same.” She sticks a piece of wheat bread into the toaster. “Talk later?”

“I’ll call tonight.”

They hang up, and Bradley cannot wait to be with the woman she’s been falling in love with since spilling her coffee on a pair of $600 boots.

End Act1

Chapter Text

ACT II

She’d only been in Montana for three weeks, two of which were spent quarantining in Laura’s guest house that was bigger than any home Bradley had ever lived in. While they heeded the warning about social distancing, every evening the women sat at least six feet apart on Laura’s patio, which was outfitted with two tower heaters and a gas fire pit. Sometimes they drank tea; other times they shared a bottle of wine. They talked about their childhood—well, Bradley talked about hers, Laura was tight-lipped about her own. They also discussed ex-partners, college life, and the struggles of being women in a male-dominated industry. Laura shared her story as an openly gay broadcaster in the late 90s, and Bradley felt for her and the way she was shunned by the network and people she’d once considered friends. She tells Bradley about Alex’s role back then, and the younger woman is mortified that her co-anchor could be so cold and catty.

For an hour or two at a time during quarantine, Laura learned more about Bradley than she had about any of her ex-girlfriends in months, and in the case of Zarina, nearly two years. There were times when Bradley shut down, namely when it came to discussing her relationship with her father, and Laura wished she could hold her woman tightly, rubbing her back and telling her it was all in the past. There were other times when Bradley’s buoyancy lifted Laura out of an early pandemic funk. She was incredibly animated when she shared stories, and Laura found herself slapping her leg and laughing at half the shit Bradley revealed.

Although she wasn’t as forthcoming as the TMS co-anchor, Laura provided the kind of comfort and stability Bradley needed in a partner. She was steady; even keeled. Nothing flustered Laura to the point of fear, and nothing upset her to the point of yelling. There were times when Bradley wished she was that serene, but there was no escaping the volatility inside her that was born out of poverty, rage, and an alcoholic father with a heavy hand.

There was only one night when they almost said fuck it to quarantine protocol. It was day nine of two-weeks of isolation—smack dab in the middle of not being able to touch each other. Bradley had just shared the story about being in the car when her drunk father killed a boy, and her tears kept falling. Laura wanted desperately to hold her, but she balled her hands in fists and did the only thing she could: offer words of reassurance.

“I want you to hold me,” Bradley sobbed.

“I want that too, honey,” Laura sighed, feeling like she’d been stabbed in the gut. “Believe me, I do.”

Bradley wiped her wet cheeks. “Can’t we just put on our masks and hug?”

“If I thought that was all it took, of course I would.” She left out the part about Bradley’s snot and tears potentially carrying the virus and somehow landing on Laura’s body. It was too risky to get that close despite yearning to wrap her in a deep embrace. “But we can’t.” Laura got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Laura went inside and couldn’t fight the tears that fell on Bradley’s behalf. She’d already been privy to a few stories about Bradley’s abusive father, and to hear this one was enough to make Laura crumble to the ground with pain. She’d never experienced anything like it before—absorbing the anguish of someone else as if the tragedy happened to her. In that moment, Laura promised she’d do everything she could to show Bradley their life didn’t have to be influenced by either of their pasts.

After a minute or two, she grabbed the box of Kleenex, plucked one to dry her eyes, then proceeded to the patio. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Bradley’s tears had stopped, but her reddened face reminded Laura of the pain she’d just relived. “I’m sorry for getting all emotional.”

“Don’t be,” Laura offered in a gentle voice. “I want you to share things like that with me.”

She dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose. “I hate that we can’t hold each other.”

“I hate it too.” She took her seat in the armchair across from Bradley. “Before we know it, there won’t be any distance between us.”

Bradley let out a wet sigh, “I can’t wait for that fucking day.”

After that evening, they mostly discussed joyful things. There were a few moments when the conversation turned serious, but those were nothing like the night Bradley told the only person on the planet besides her brother what had happened with her father in the car.

When Day 14 finally arrived and Bradley had taken a PCR test at the hospital that came back negative, they wasted no time becoming reacquainted. In fact, they spent 48 hours in bed save for two meals they ate in the kitchen (followed by Bradley eating Laura on the counter.) As time marched on, they were mostly successful at not jumping each other any time one of them had carnal desire, but their sexual attraction had been intense from the start.

After a month of cohabitating, Laura and Bradley established a routine. Bradley would quietly crawl out of bed, kissing the side of Laura’s head before taking a shower. Afterwards, she did the broadcast from the studio they now shared. They’d meet upstairs for lunch, hang out for an hour or two, then Laura would either prep for her show, conduct interviews or do the live broadcast while Bradley enjoyed the comforts of the ranch.

Bradley was a quick study on just about anything she tried, and she only needed three lessons with Laura to learn how to ride Gumdrop, Laura’s gentle Connemara Pony. After those lessons, Bradley became comfortable enough to ride along the edge of the expansive property without needing Laura to spot her. It became one of her favorite activities as the days warmed to nearly 60 degrees. Laura loved how much Bradley had taken to riding, and on Sunday mornings after an elaborate brunch, the women would ride for an hour or so, talking about their week ahead or the interesting interviews they’d conducted the week before.

Laura could hardly believe how quickly she and Bradley settled into their serene life on the ranch. They only had a few spats, most of which were more of a misunderstanding than an argument, and they made up easily. Bradley wasn’t accustomed to being with someone mature enough to have hard conversations. She was learning how to not lash out in anger at something that could be easily solved with dialogue. Laura was good for her, but sometimes self-doubt crept in, and Bradley wondered if the opposite was true.

“There you are.” Laura opens the French doors and steps onto the patio. “I thought you’d be in post-show meetings.”

Bradley looks up from her spot on the sofa. “We had a brief one today, so I decided to tie some flies.”

Laura had gotten her a gift “just because” a couple weeks ago—fly fishing lessons with a world-renowned guide. Bradley was reluctant to try the complicated sport, but she wanted to show Laura how grateful she was for her generosity, so she accompanied Landon Reid to a stream about a mile from the ranch for her first lesson. She enjoyed it so much she went out a second time with Landon, then a third two days later. He’d given her a few flies to practice tying, and Bradley found it to be a welcome challenge.

Laura sits next to her and picks up a purple and green fly. “You’re really getting into this.”

She runs the string through a loop, making a knot. “It helps calm me.”

“Is there something you need to be calm about?” She sets the fly on the wicker table.

Bradley lifts her right shoulder.

Laura turns more fully towards her. “What’s going on, honey?”

“I just feel…” she sighs. “Sometimes I feel like you’re too good for me.”

“What?” Laura’s eyes narrow. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Last night when we got into an argument about my leaving a mess all over the house…” She sets the fly next to the other one. “You were the picture of calmness. Nothing rattles you, and sometimes I just want you to fucking yell at me.”

Laura retracts her chin. “You want me to yell?”

“I know how to deal with anger—I have no idea how to deal with your patience,” she replies. “And sometimes it feels…” Bradley shakes her head in search of the right word. “Patronizing.”

Laura is stunned by her statement. “My not raising my voice makes you feel patronized?”

“It can feel like I’m a child and you’re my mom, scolding me in this…this sing-song, little voice.”

“Bradley, honey, that’s not the way I see you.” Laura places a hand on her arm. “I’ve never yelled at you because it would get us nowhere. I believe in remaining calm while discussing an issue.”

“That’s not how I was raised!” Bradley doesn’t mean to shout, but the words come out hot.

Laura is taken aback by the situation. She’s never been accused of not yelling at her partner and thought that was a good thing. “So, you’d rather me match your tone and let my anger spiral out of control?”

“It’s not just that.” Bradley stands as if needing to put some distance between them. “Everything you do is fucking perfect. I’m…I’m not like that.” She pauses. “I’m not like you.”

“I’m far from perfect,” Laura replies through an incredulous laugh. “I’ve just been in therapy for the better part of 30 years and often, not always, I know how to handle things appropriately.” Laura tilts her head. "In a lot of ways, I’m envious of the way you let your feelings out.”

Bradley huffs—she finds it hard to believe Laura appreciates when she explodes.

Laura scoots to the edge of the cushion. “I don’t enjoy being on the other end of your ire, but I’m sure it’s cathartic to scream sometimes.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not looking for praise for my outbursts.”

Laura presses her knees together and sits up straighter. “Either I’m missing something or you’re not communicating properly.”

“See, right there!” Bradley points to her. “You’re telling me how I should communicate.”

“I’m trying to solve an issue and put you at ease.” Like always, Laura keeps a steady voice, though this conversation is beginning to upset her. “How is that a bad thing?”

She spins around, opening her arms. “You’re too good for me!”

“Is that what you think?” Laura questions. “Honestly?”

“You’re Laura Fucking Peterson,” Bradley replies in a bitter tone. “Everyone loves you. You’ve won two Emmys, a Peabody, and who knows what other accolades fall behind your name,” she continues. “You have more money than God and you could write a fucking book on how to communicate like an adult.” Bradley shakes her head. “I can’t compete with that.”

She recognizes Bradley is having a moment of self-doubt. She shouldn’t be surprised by it considering all the time they’ve spent together in a space that is purely Laura’s. Nothing here belongs to Bradley—she can’t relate to a single thing. Laura knows what it feels like to be patronized, and while that was never her intention, she can see how Bradley might perceive it as such.

She glances at her lap, then back up at Bradley, patting the cushion next to her. “Come here.”

Bradley folds her arms. “I don’t want to sit.”

“Fine, don’t sit, but please listen,” Laura instructs. “Will you give me that courtesy?”

She hesitantly nods.

“You are a firecracker, Bradley Jackson. Your explosive nature is one of a thousand things I love about you,” she begins with a soft smile. “The expressions you make, the hand gestures, the snarky comments that hold nothing but the truth—I adore those things about you.”

“I wasn’t looking for accolades,” she huffs.

“You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for,” she continues despite Bradley’s protest. “And it’s not just book smart; you’re street smart, too. You follow your instincts and scour a story for the truth and won’t let up until you uncover it. You’re one of the savviest journalists in the field today.”

Bradley bites hard on her back teeth and looks away. She’s unaccustomed to praise, especially from someone she cares about so deeply.

“Your sense of humor and storytelling ability is unrivaled.” Laura’s lips tic up. “And the way you listen, well, I could be in a stadium filled with 10,000 people, and I’d feel your focus on me,” she goes on. “You’re stunningly beautiful, though I don’t think of that as something you choose to be—it’s just empirically true. I could stare at your fucking collarbone for hours not to mention your eyes, your chin and that stunning smile. The way you make me feel when you look at me; when you touch me.” She rattles her head. “No one has ever made me feel like the center of their universe the way you do.”

Bradley has gone from annoyed to touched by every word her girlfriend utters. She hadn’t been searching for admiration, but hearing Laura say these things is enough to make her eyes well with tears.

Laura sits back. “If you think I’m too good for you, I’d like to turn the tables and suggest you’re the one who’s too good for me.”

Bradley takes three long steps towards her, getting on a knee in front of Laura and grabbing her face. She kisses Laura firmly, leaving no doubt the impression she’s made. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” Laura pecks her lips. “Except not thinking we’re equals.”

“I’ve never…” she trails off, then sits next to her. “I’ve never had anyone say such nice things about me.”

“Then you’ve surrounded yourself with the wrong people,” Laura offers, rubbing her knuckles. “Anyone who spends time with you who doesn’t tell you exactly how you make them feel, well, they don’t deserve your company.” She smiles. “And I have a bone to pick with all of them for not valuing my woman.”

Bradley issues a bashful smile. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” She presses her lips to Bradley’s forehead. “But I think now might be the best time to say what I’ve been feeling for months.”

Bradley wrinkles her forehead. “What is it?”

“If it isn’t obvious…” She thought she’d be far more nervous, but this feels completely natural. “I’m in love with you, Bradley.” Laura squeezes her hand. “Madly in love, in fact.”

Bradley throws her arms over Laura’s shoulders, burying her face in the crook of her neck and breathing in the familiar scent of leather and basil.

“And I can’t have you thinking you’re anything less than perfect—for me at least,” Laura finishes, carefully tucking a chunk of blonde hair behind Bradley’s ear.

“No one has made me feel the way you do, Laura.” She gives her an adoring smile. “No one,” Bradley pauses. “I’m not ready to say those words yet, but I feel them.” She brings Laura’s hand to her heart.

“They’re big words. I wouldn’t want you to say them until you’re ready.” Laura smiles. “Meantime, I’m not going anywhere.”

Once again, Bradley hugs her with all the strength she has and thanks God that Laura is choosing to spend this life with her.

By early May, the wildflowers are blooming like crazy, and the ranch becomes a cornucopia of fauna. Bradley enjoys taking long walks in the evening while Laura does the show; it gives her time to think about her life before the pandemic. She wonders what would’ve happened if she’d remained in New York while Laura ventured to Montana. Would they have survived the distance? Bradley can’t imagine not having chosen this life; she’s a better person not only because of what being in the middle of nowhere has taught her, but also because of Laura’s gentle influence.

While she’s keen on contemplating the past, Bradley has been thinking a lot about the present. She’s been in Montana for six weeks, two of which were quarantining alone, and she’s already found things to call her own. They aren’t physical things—well, not in the truest sense of the word—rather experiences she’s begun to enjoy without needing Laura by her side. She’s started trotting with Gumdrop instead of just slowly walking along the fence. She swears the pony gets excited when he sees her, and Laura plays along as if Gumdrop doesn’t smile and neigh every time he sees a human.

Even more than riding, Bradley has not only gotten into fly fishing, but also the art of tying flies. Landon showed her the basics and she’s watched several videos and is halfway through The Art of Fly Tying, a book Laura ordered for her a couple days ago. She’s learning how to tie streamers, hairwing dry flies, and realistic nymphs and spends hours on the patio or near the pond making her creations with the limited supply Landon gave her. Bradley’s next attempt will be stringing together a thorax fly, but she needs to order her own material to make it work.

Bradley rarely thinks about the future—she’s a believer in living in the moment and sometimes reflecting on the past, but every so often her thoughts turn to what’s ahead. She never pictured herself married, but if such an inkling popped into her head as a teenager or in her early 20s, she certainly never thought it would be to a woman. Her relationships with women were purely sexual back then—no one had captured her attention enough to make her consider dating for any length of time let alone marrying them. Yet there are times when she looks at Laura and thinks, she could be my wife. Bradley hasn’t broached the topic, but she does wonder if Laura would be open to eventually tying the knot.

Saturday evenings on the ranch have consistently been date nights. Typically, Laura cooks a delectable meal while Bradley plays bartender, but tonight Bradley is stuck in an impromptu meeting with the network execs about possibly going back to the studio in June as the Covid numbers drop. They know it might be only for a couple months, but ratings haven’t been great, and Cory thinks if they can somehow get Alex and Bradley in the same room, they’d see higher numbers.

She gets off the phone, frustrated with Cory’s idea, but when she turns the corner and peeks in the kitchen, she sees Laura singing and dancing to an Indigo Girls song while tending to chicken, peppers and onion, sizzling in a cast iron skillet.

She watches Laura for a moment, lips venturing up at the other woman’s antics when she thinks no one is watching. Suddenly it hits Bradley so hard it feels like someone just physically shoved her.

“Bradley?”

She’s startled from her musings. “Hey.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

Bradley smirks. “Long enough to hear you mess up the second verse of Closer to Fine.”

“Nonsense—I know every word to that song.” She grins and sets the spatula down. “How’d the meeting go?”

“It’s a lesbian anthem—I’d hope you know every word,” Bradley chuckles. “And it went fine, I guess.”

Laura washes her hands. “You guess?”

“Cory was spewing shit about the ratings.” She pops a slice of raw red bell pepper into her mouth. “He wants me and Alex to do the show from the studio this summer.”

“We’re in the middle of a pandemic,” Laura notes. “That’s a terrible idea.”

She grabs Laura’s hand, tugging her towards the patio. “I’m not going to worry about it right now.”

“Where are you taking me?” Laura twists around and notices the pan smoking. “I have fajitas on the stove.”

Ignoring her, Bradley stops in front of the French doors. “Sometimes I look out there and can’t believe the majesty of what we get to see every day,” she says, staring at the rugged mountain range that appears violet after the sun has just set. She turns back to Laura. “And sometimes I look at you and think you’re even better than all that majesty.”

Laura’s chin dimples at the sentiment. Bradley isn’t great at expressing her feelings, but on the rare occasion when she does share what she’s thinking, Laura is almost always impressed.

“I was watching you cook and sing, a little off key, I might add...”

Laura rolls her eyes, and Bradley continues. “And this feeling struck me so hard it felt like a physical whack to my chest.”

Laura squints, wondering where this is going.

“What I’m trying to say is…I’m in love with you, Laura,” she announces through a soft smile. “I have been for months, but I didn’t know how to say it without it feeling forced or contrived or something.”

She blinks rapidly as she takes both of Bradley’s hands.

“So, I’m saying it now, babe. I love you.”

Laura pulls Bradley to her, crashing their mouths together in a searing kiss. Laura doesn’t care about tenderness right now—she cares about hearing the woman she loves return the sentiment with a bold confession. “Say it again.”

Bradley chuckles. “I love you.”

“My woman,” she whispers with reverence.

The fajitas burn that evening, but Laura doesn’t care. When the smoke detector sounds, she fans the device in laughter while a topless Bradley turns the burner off. They laugh at what they’d been doing while ignoring dinner and decide to continue their sexual ministrations despite the chaos in the kitchen. Laura pulls out a Red Baron frozen pizza for dinner a couple hours later; it’s the best decision they’ve made in months.

Chapter Text

The next night, Laura attempts to remake fajitas this time without abandoning them in favor of something far more savory. She’s eager to talk to Bradley about a phone call she received earlier that afternoon, but Bradley moves swiftly to shower after spending three hours fly fishing with Landon.

“Hey.” Bradley surfaces with a towel wrapped around her head, wearing one of Laura’s silk robes.

“I see you’ve decided to help yourself to my peignoir.”

She glances at the robe. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if it smelled like me.”

Laura saunters over, stringing her arms around Bradley’s neck, then leaning in for a kiss. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Bradley pecks her lips several times before untangling from Laura’s embrace.

“How was fishing with Landon?”

“Wonderful as usual.” Bradley takes a package of flour tortillas out. “I met him at Fairy Lake this time, and it was gorgeous. It helped that the sun was shining and the fish were biting.”

She lifts the lid on the Spanish rice, checking for doneness. “What is it you like so much about fly fishing?”

Bradley takes a deep breath as if preparing to deliver a monologue. “Imagine a warm, calm afternoon on a lake where no one else is around. The trout are jumping everywhere, but you fail to attract even one half-hearted bite,” she begins. “You study the surface carefully and notice a ton of brownish gray insects barely a quarter of an inch long skimming the surface. The trout are devouring them.”

Laura is so captivated by her story she stops tending to dinner to listen.

“You look at your vest for a fly that resembles the bugs, and you find one hidden near a pocket. You attach it to your line, hoping the similarity attracts the trout, and on the first cast, you hook one.”

Laura’s lips turn up.

“You reel it in, stare at the rainbow colors of its scales reflecting off the sun and think, I did this. I caught this fish with bait I made.” She smiles. “It’s a pretty awesome feeling.”

“Wow,” she whispers with reverence. “I had no idea.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever participated in something so rewarding,” Bradley muses.

Laura tugs her into a hug. “I’m happy for you, honey.”

“I’m happy, too.” She smiles. “Happier than I ever thought I’d be.”

Laura’s smile reflects her woman’s and her heart swells with joy. She never imagined Bradley would find a path of her own on the ranch—Laura figured she’d simply go with the flow, but she’s proud of Bradley for discovering hobbies on her own.

“Where are said fish?” she asks.

“I gave them to Landon.” Bradley steps out of the embrace. “We only caught three, so we figured splitting them didn’t make sense. Next time, they’re mine.”

“I’ll be sure to heat up the stove when that happens.” Laura grins. “Speaking of stove.” She turns back to the sizzling fajitas.

She takes a deep breath through her nose. “It smells good in here.”

Laura takes the rice off the burner. “I’m glad I had leftover ingredients in the fridge after last night’s fiasco.”

Bradley smirks, recalling what transpired on the kitchen table. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a fiasco.”

“Maybe not the whole evening, but still.” She gives the fajita mixture a quick stir, then changes the subject. “I talked to Maggie this afternoon.”

Bradley pulls a bottle of Syrah out the wine cellar. “How’s she doing?”

“Not great.”

Laura and Maggie talk every two weeks, and oftentimes, she shares their conversation with Bradley. The pandemic brought to light some of the deficiencies in Maggie’s marriage, and after months of trying to salvage it with communication and counseling, they decided to end things. Bradley knows Maggie is having a rough time, isolating alone in Manhattan, and Laura has been making an effort to talk to her more frequently.

Bradley holds a wine bottle up so Laura can determine if it will pair well with their meal (and to check the price since one time early during the pandemic, Bradley uncorked a $750 Cab Franc from Bordeaux on a random Tuesday evening without realizing the cost.)

Laura nods her approval, then hands her the wine opener. “She has a few friends still in New York, but they’re all taking Covid seriously and not going out. Maggie said she hasn’t seen anyone other than the food delivery people in months.”

“Seriously?” She begins twisting the corkscrew into the bottle.

Laura nods. “She and a couple of neighbors sit on their stoops and talk when the weather cooperates.” She squeezes fresh lime into the skillet. “Other than that, she’s been completely isolated.”

Bradley yanks out the cork. “That must be hard.”

She leans her hip against the counter. “How would you feel about inviting Maggie to stay with us for a few weeks?”

“I didn’t think you’d be open to visitors.” Bradley looks surprised not only about her openness to visitors but when Laura low-key references as the ranch being theirs.

“I am if they’re close friends who’ve taken the virus seriously.” She folds her arms. “Maggie would have to quarantine for two weeks just like you did.”

Bradley doesn’t consider herself Maggie’s biggest fan, but she knows her friendship means the world to Laura. “I mean, if that’s what you want, I could get behind it.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” She shrugs. “Maybe she could stay in the guest house, you know, to give us some privacy.”

Laura kisses the crown of her head. “I think she’d be amenable to that.”

She pours two glasses of Syrah, sliding one along the quartz surface towards Laura. “It might be nice to have some company.”

“I’m not company enough?” she jokes, pulling Bradley’s robe belt until it flaps open, revealing her very naked body.

“Not even close.” Bradley rolls her eyes in dramatic fashion, but the kiss she lays on Laura betrays her mock-frustration.

Laura’s fingertips roam up Bradley’s torso, finally landing on her breasts.

She cranes her neck to the side, allowing Laura to kiss a trail from her ear to her collarbone. “Do you really want to ruin dinner two nights in a row?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Bradley cocks one eyebrow, taking that as a challenge, and they do, in fact, ruin dinner for the second night in a row.

The beginning of Maggie’s stay on the ranch is similar to when Bradley first arrived. They don’t get together every day, but they see her at least four times a week. More often than not, it’s for happy hour on Laura’s patio, but they also have brunch twice on the picnic table just outside the guest house, and roast S’mores over the wood burning fire pit on an unseasonably cold mid-May evening. Laura spends time alone with Maggie on the porch swing and Adirondack chairs out front, always keeping social distancing in mind.

Maggie gets tested on Day 13 in hopes of getting a negative test result the following day. When said negative test is revealed, Laura smokes a brisket in her new Traeger, an expensive quarantine purchase she has no regrets ordering even though Bradley told her she was a little tired of eating smoked everything.

“Thank you for allowing me to join you here,” Maggie says while Laura is inside cleaning up.

Bradley opens a second bottle of Malbec. “It’s not my ranch—thank Laura.”

To say the women got off on the wrong foot takes it a little too far. Bradley and Maggie have had two interactions prior to her coming to Montana, and both were a bit uncomfortable. The first was when Maggie interviewed her for her book and the second was at Laura’s dinner party in February when Maggie bombarded her with questions about Alex. Bradley was hoping they could turn the corner and become acquaintances if not friends at least for Laura’s sake.

“I’m sure you could’ve convinced Laura not to invite me,” Maggie offers.

“She adores you.” Bradley tops off her glass. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your friendship.”

“Thank you.” She takes a sip. “I adore her, too. She’s been a blessing these last few months.”

Bradley sits on the outdoor sofa. “I’m sorry about your divorce.”

“It wasn’t out of the blue or anything,” she responds from her spot in the armchair. “Quarantining with Bob for three months did us in.”

The side of Bradley’s mouth ticks to the side. “Still, I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.”

“I appreciate your compassion.” She sips the wine. “You and I haven’t spent time alone since I arrived.”

“Well, technically you just got out of quarantining yesterday.” Bradley tops off her own glass. “And you’re here as Laura’s guest, not mine.”

“Still, I’d like to get to know you better, Bradley,” she offers through an impish grin. “Laura thinks the world of you. I consider her a superb judge of character, so you must be very special.”

“I don’t know about that.” Bradley blushes. “But I do agree Laura’s a good judge of character.”

She raises her glass. “Well then, we have that in common.”

Laura steps onto the patio carrying three small plates. “It’s not homemade, but I swear by anything from Sweet Butter Bakery.”

“Is that strawberry shortcake?” Maggie asks.

“It is.” Laura hands one to her, then sits next to Bradley on the sofa, giving her a plate. “I thought we had vanilla ice cream, but we seem to be out.” She gives Bradley a look, remembering how they used the ice cream last week.

Bradley’s cheeks flush, recalling the scoop of Halo Top she licked off her lover’s breasts. They’d created a milky, sticky mess and laughed so hard it ruined what Laura had hoped would be a sensual moment. Nevertheless, they enjoyed themselves far more under the spray of the shower that night.

Maggie cuts into the cake. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

The women chat about their favorite desserts and bakeries in New York. Maggie and Laura compare stories about the best macaroons they’ve eaten in France. Bradley appreciates the lightness and ease of the conversation and is glad to encounter Maggie in a new way. There’s a playful side of her Bradley hasn’t seen before, and she hopes it’s not just a one-off tonight.

The next two weeks are far more enjoyable than Bradley thought they’d be. She and Laura carve out time for each other, particularly on Saturday nights, but they also involve Maggie in some of their plans. They go for long walks, groom the horses, and fish in the stocked pond. One afternoon, Bradley shows Maggie how to tie flies. She takes a keen interest in Bradley’s lesson, though the younger woman doesn’t suspect Maggie will actually take up fly fishing.

One late afternoon while Laura conducts interviews for UBA 365, Bradley invites Maggie on a walk around the property. Bradley has become familiar with every trail, every prickly blackberry bush and every nook and cranny of the barn. She shows Maggie the garden she and Laura have been working on, complaining they’ve had too much rain and not enough warm days to get the runner beans and cucumbers to bloom. The tomatoes, Bradley notes through a thick sigh, don’t have much of a chance until August.

“This place suits you,” Maggie offers through an enchanted grin.

Bradley tosses a few sprigs of dill into the basket dangling from her arm. “Really?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I grew up in the middle of nowhere, so I always had to invent things to do.” She continues plucking fresh herbs from the garden. “But Wyoming County, West Virginia is nothing like this. I love riding horses, fly fishing, taking long walks, admiring the sunsets.”

Maggie smiles. “Do you do all those things with Laura?”

She ponders the question before responding. “I spend the majority of my time with her, but I think it’s important to do things by myself.” Bradley moves to the basil plant and glances at Maggie before tearing a few pieces. “Laura strikes me as someone who appreciates independent women—not that my choices have anything to do with what she might prefer—I’m not the kind of woman who needs to hang off my partner’s arm all the time. I like having interests that don’t involve her.” Now that she thinks about it, she has never had other partners who’ve made her feel as secure as Laura does. It gives her the luxury as well as the confidence to be independent without having to worry about stepping on Laura’s toes.

“That’s a very mature stance.” Maggie leans forward, smelling the sweet basil. “You seem to be a good match.”

Bradley grins. “You think so?”

“I liked Simone,” she confesses, ripping a few leaves and tossing them into the basket. “But I can’t say I saw a future for her and Laura.”

Bradley crinkles her brow. “Why’s that?”

She shrugs. “Just a feeling, I suppose.”

“Simone was great.” Bradley really did enjoy talking to her, and while the thought of Laura being with her makes her a little jealous, Bradley can’t say a cross word about her girlfriend’s ex. “I guess they just weren’t meant to be.”

“No.” Maggie’s grin widens. “But you two seem to be.”

“I happen to agree,” Bradley replies through a proud smirk. “I never thought I’d end up in a serious relationship with a woman, but Laura…” She glances at the cloudless sky and sighs. “She’s…” Bradley hesitates before overtly swooning. “She’s special.”

Maggie clips a few daisies. “That she is.”

“Enough about me…” She sniffs the rosemary before breaking off a branch. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything.” Maggie glances at her, then returns to the flowers. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Fair enough,” she chuckles. “What happened between you and Alex?”

Maggie noticeably stiffens. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“If it’s too invasive—”

“It’s…” Maggie sighs. “It’s complicated.”

Bradley grins. “I’m good at complicated.”

She sets the daisies in the basket. “Has Laura shared anything about us with you?”

“Only that y’all have history,” she offers. “I assume there was some sort of falling out.”

“There was,” Maggie responds. “My book didn’t help matters.”

She stops what she’s doing to focus on Maggie. “Why’d you print all that stuff about her and Mitch?”

“Because it’s the truth.” She moves to the other side of the garden bed. “You’re a journalist, Bradley, and a fine one at that. You know all that matters in a story is revealing the truth.”

“I agree 99 percent of the time, but at what cost?” Bradley enquires. “Are people’s lives better because you printed stuff about their affair?”

“Mitch was a predator,” she tries.

“That may be, but they had consensual sex,” Bradley states. “And you raked Alex’s name through the coals.”

She opens her arms. “I said what needed to be said.”

“It seems like your reasoning was far more personal than just telling the truth.” Bradley uses air quotes around the last part. “What happened to make you so…vindictive?”

“It wasn’t vindictive,” Maggie says stiffly. “Laura is right—Alex and I have history.” She pauses. “Things…happened…in the late 90s.”

Bradley retracts her chin. “That’s all you’re going to share?”

She smirks. “You’re quite the little interrogator, aren’t you?”

“Like you said, I’m a journalist; it’s my job to uncover the truth.”

Maggie sits in one of the red Adirondack chairs under a shady maple tree. Bradley takes her basket of herbs and joins her.

“It goes without saying whatever I share remains between us,” Maggie says.

“Laura knows though, right?” She sits in the other chair. “Because I’m not in the business of keeping things from her.”

“Oh, yes,” Maggie chuckles. “Laura knows firsthand.”

“I’m not working on a story or anything, Maggie. What you say stays between us…and Laura.”

Maggie eyes her companion before determining if it’s safe to share her story. “It started on a debaucherous night in summer of ‘97. We used to hang out regularly.”

“Who’s we?” Bradley asks.

“Laura, Alex, Jo, Sydney—two friends who wrote for The New Yorker,” she replies. “We went to Broadway shows, summer concert series…” She smiles as if vividly remembering those events. “Laura would throw these elaborate dinner parties that often lasted until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes after midnight, we’d walk to Meow Mix, a lesbian bar a couple blocks from her place.”

Bradley leans forward, intrigued by the story so far.

“One night, we decided to take body shots.” She smiles fondly. “We all did them off each other, so it wasn’t a thing…” Maggie explains. “But when Alex took one off me, she didn’t stop with the shot. She licked her way up my chest, my neck and ultimately my mouth.”

“She kissed you?” Bradley stares with wide-eyed wonder—she figured there’d been a falling out, but she had no idea Alex and Maggie had kissed.

“It was more than a singular kiss,” Maggie reminisces. “We made out like teenagers at prom.”

She shakes her head in disbelief.

“That was the first time; it happened twice after Laura’s dinner parties, and again during Lilith Fair,” she continues. “Each time, Alex was the instigator.”

Bradley wrinkles her forehead. “But Alex is straight.”

Maggie turns towards her. “Funny you should mention that when the whole world assumes you are—or at least were—until Laura came along.”

Bradley glances at her lap, realizing that’s true. Because of the pandemic, they’ve been able to keep their relationship under wraps, but Bradley hasn’t considered what might happen when they come out. She’s been meaning to tell her family, but it hasn’t been a priority.

“You’re right—Alex is as straight as I am,” Maggie goes on. “But we had multiple dalliances that were anything but straight.”

“I guess there’s a little curiosity in all of us,” Bradley offers. “But that doesn’t explain your fall out.”

Maggie tips her head back, sucking in a deep breath of spring air that wreaks of freshly cut grass and dill. “By the end of that summer, I thought we were going to try our hand at a relationship despite both of us identifying as straight women.”

Bradley nods.

“Alex led me to believe it was going to happen, and if I’m being honest, I was…” she pauses, staring into the distance. “I was falling in love with her.”

Her eyes widen for the third time.

“She and I had been friends for nearly two years,” Maggie continues. “We had fun together. We also had aspirational conversations. When sex entered our relationship, I’d never experienced anything like that; it made me feel closer to anyone I’d ever met.”

It was one thing for Bradley to hear about Alex and Maggie kissing, but she never imagined they had sex. She knows firsthand what sex with a woman feels like, and Bradley fully admits, at least to herself, it’s far more satisfying than sex with men. She also acknowledges both women are strikingly beautiful—she can easily picture their attraction back in the late 90s.

“After the Lilith Fair concert in Massachusetts, Alex disappeared,” Maggie says, twirling the wedding band she still wears on her ring finger. “She didn’t return my calls, didn’t attend Laura’s dinner parties, and basically acted like I never existed.” Once again, she pauses. “She started dating one guy or another that Autumn and didn’t speak to me until we bumped into each other at a holiday party.”

“Was it awkward?”

She lets out a singular laugh. “To say the least.”

“What happened after that?”

“We never hung out again—at least not intentionally,” Maggie replies. “There were occasions throughout the years when we were forced to be in the same room. Of course, we acted cordially, but things were never the same after that summer.”

Bradley covers Maggie’s hand with her own. “I’m sorry.”

“I know I shouldn’t hold a grudge, but…” She raises her shoulders, finally looking directly at Bradley.

“I get it. I’m the queen of grudge-holding,” Bradley says. “But y’all were such good friends and 20 years have passed. Don’t you think it’s worth a conversation? Maybe even an apology?”

Maggie stands. “I could say the same about Laura’s beef with Alex.”

“That’s a whole other conversation.” She gets to her feet, picking up the basket filled with herbs and daisies. “I just know any time I’ve mentioned your name to Alex, she gets…flustered.”

Maggie almost imperceptibly flinches.

“I hope one day y’all can clear the air.” Bradley starts walking towards the house. “I know that’s Laura’s plan, too.”

“Good for her.” Maggie keeps pace. “Laura has always been a noble woman.”

Bradley grins. “She’s the noblest woman I’ve ever met.”

Chapter Text

They make their way back to the house, and Maggie decides to make homemade bread to go with the smoked chicken Laura has planned for dinner. They continue talking about the good parts of those summers in the late 90s, and Bradley gets the sense the five women who hung out back then were dear friends. She can also tell Maggie misses those carefree days, particularly the summer concert series that took place every Sunday afternoon. Apparently, Laura had a season pass, so they’d gone to at least five or six outdoor concerts that summer in a private, tented area where the acoustics were great, and the booze flowed freely.

Bradley fills a vase with water. “Sounds like you miss those days.”

“They were some of the best days of my life.” Maggie sprinkles rosemary onto the dough. “Of course, not long after that were some of the worst days when Laura was outed.”

There’s a pang in Bradley’s chest at the thought of a forlorn Laura. They’d talked about her outing two or three times since she joined her on the ranch, and each time, Bradley could feel the pain her girlfriend still harbored when she discussed that vicious, unforgiving time in her life.

“Starting dinner without me?” Laura appears in the kitchen, still dressed in her pant suit with her hair tied into a neat bun.

Bradley’s eyes light up upon seeing her. “How was the show?”

“Good.” She leans over, pecking her woman’s cheek. “What’s going on in here?”

“We picked herbs from the garden.” Maggie chiffonnades the basil. “I thought I’d make homemade focaccia.”

Laura runs her hand down Bradley’s arm until their fingers latch and seamlessly walks towards the counter to check out the dough. “Impressive.”

“This is all Maggie,” Bradley responds. “You’ve already experienced my skilled hand at cooking.”

“Or unskilled as the case may be,” Laura deadpans, squeezing her hand, then releasing it. “Looks delicious.”

“I discovered bread making during the pandemic,” Maggie replies. “I think I’ve got the focaccia recipe down, but I’m a little concerned about being at altitude.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Laura spins around and heads towards the living room. “I’m going to change clothes. I think there’s an open bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Bradley sticks the daisies in the vase, then pours the white wine into three glasses, placing two in the fridge. “I’ll be right back.”

Maggie sprinkles flakey salt on the dough. “I’ll be here.”

Bradley opens the door to their bedroom. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Laura hangs up her suit jacket. “How was your afternoon?”

“Very interesting.” She sits on the bed, watching her lover change clothes. “We were picking herbs in the garden, and Maggie told me about her and Alex.”

Laura stops unbuttoning her blouse midway and gives her girlfriend a look.

“She told me about that summer,” Bradley continues. “I figured there was bad blood, but I never imagined they were a couple!”

“They were never a couple.” She continues unbuttoning her blouse. “But they did have a pretty intense fling.”

Bradley tucks a leg underneath her. “Which explains why they act how they do when one of their names comes up.”

Laura steps out of her gray slacks. “I tried to get them to talk it out, but then the news about my sexual orientation came out, and Alex disappeared.”

“Why?”

She hangs up her pants, then puts on a pair of old Levi’s “You’d have to ask her.”

Bradley glances into the distance. “There must be a reason.”

“The only thing that makes sense is Alex didn’t want to be associated with anyone who was gay or questioning.” She stacks her heels on a shelf in the closet.

Bradley remains pensive for a moment, tapping her fingers on her thigh. “Don’t you think enough time has passed for Alex and Maggie to clear the air? Not to mention you and Alex.”

She shrugs into a faded blue Pineville Public Library t-shirt. “If I ever have the opportunity, I have no problem clearing the air with Alex. It’s not something I’ve dwelled on over the years.”

Bradley thinks there must’ve been opportunities in the past to do just that, but she doesn’t force the issue. Laura says therapy has helped her make peace with that time in her life.

“Do you think Alex would be open to a conversation with Maggie?” Bradley asks.

“I’d like to think so.” She undoes the bun in her hair, shaking it until it cascades over her shoulders. “But it’s not something we should force.”

“I don’t intend to force anything.” Bradley hops off the bed. “But I’d be happy to feel Alex out about the whole situation.”

A smirk forms on Laura’s face.

“What?”

“If Alex finds out Maggie told you about that summer, I don’t think she’d take too kindly to it.” She presses her lips to Bradley’s forehead. “But I admire your desire to mend fences.”

Her face scrunches up. “I’m not giving up on them—not until I’m convinced things are irreconcilable.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Laura chuckles.

“That’s my t-shirt, you know,” Bradley notes as she takes her extended hand and proceeds towards the door. “I got it in 1998 when I worked at the Pineville library.”

“Says the woman standing there in my Lilith Fair concert shirt.”

Bradley glances down at her shirt, knowing she’s been caught.

“I’m confiscating this one until you return my Stonewall Inn shirt and the New York Civil Liberties Union one, too.” She tugs Bradley through the living room. “Oh, and my Dollywood t-shirt that went missing the day after you moved in.”

“What’s the point of having a girlfriend if you can’t share clothes?”

Laura lets out a light laugh. “I can think of a few other reasons.”

Bradley matches her laughter as they arrive in the kitchen.

“I just put the bread in the oven,” Maggie announces.

“Perfect,” Laura says. “Let’s have a glass of wine on the patio before I pull the chicken off the Traeger.”

The next day after Bradley finishes the broadcast for The Morning Show, Cory swoops in the post-show Zoom session with a major announcement: Alex and Bradley are expected to present from the studio beginning June 15 and continuing at least through Labor Day. Neither woman is pleased by this development and agree they’ll speak with their agents about postponing the reunion until the pandemic has been eradicated. Stella attempts to go to bat for them, but Cybil Richards has the ultimate say, which in a rare turn of events, is in agreement with Cory.

“I don’t believe it!” Bradley storms into the study.

Laura’s eyes appear over the top of the book she’s reading. “What don’t you believe?”

“Cory!” She takes off her heels, throwing them aside. “He’s a fucking rat!”

Unlike many of the broadcast journalists who work from home, Bradley continues to dress from head to toe in professional clothing as if she’s reporting to the studio the same way Laura does.

She lowers the book. “What did he do to warrant this visceral response?”

Bradley is fuming. “He’s mandating Alex and I go back to Manhattan to do the show!”

“Can he do that?” That captures Laura’s attention. “What does Cybil think?”

“She was there, agreeing with every fucking word he said,” Bradley huffs. “Don’t they realize we’re still in the middle of a pandemic?”

She closes the book and pats the cushion next to her. “You knew a couple weeks ago this was a possibility.”

Bradley tosses her head from side to side. “I don’t want to go back to New York!”

“Have you checked in with Neil?”

“I left a message as soon as the Zoom meeting ended.” Finally, she sits next to Laura. “I doubt my agent is going to be able to get me out of this.”

“Probably not.” Laura sweeps blonde hair off her shoulder, allowing her hand to linger there. “What can I do to help?”

“You can get angry with me instead of being so…so calm!”

Laura grins. “You want me to raise my voice?”

“Since I’ve known you, I have never heard you yell,” she says. “This would be the perfect moment to share in my wrath.”

“Alright.” Laura gets to her feet and takes a big breath as if preparing to go on stage. “I can’t fucking believe that asshole wants you to return to New York! Doesn’t he realize the pandemic isn’t over? People are becoming more relaxed with the guidelines, but the fucking virus is simply on pause. What in the hell is he thinking?”

Bradley’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at her girlfriend’s outburst.

“What right does he have to pluck you from this life you’ve established here and force you to go back to Manhattan?” Laura continues in a loud voice. “Cory can go fuck himself!”

“Wow…” She waits until it appears Laura is finished before letting out a surprised laugh. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Neither did I,” Laura laughs. “I have to admit, it felt kind of cathartic.”

Bradley stands, throwing herself into Laura’s arms. “I fucking love you, babe.”

The laughter percolates in her chest. “For yelling on your behalf?”

“Yes.” Bradley kisses her. “I’d hate to be alone in my disdain for the network right now.” She takes Laura’s hand, leading her back to the sofa. “Yelling might not solve anything, but I do appreciate the effort.”

Laura smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“What am I going to do?” Bradley sighs.

“Nothing you can do, really.” She shrugs, then pauses a moment. “Hold on, what were Cory’s exact words?”

“He said the ratings are shit and Alex and I have to be in the same space to do the show,” Bradley responds as if questioning where her partner is attempting to take this. “Cybil backed him up.”

“Did he say you had to do the show in New York?”

“The studio is in New York.” She wrinkles her forehead and looks at Laura sideways. “Where else would we do the broadcast?”

Laura lifts her shoulders. “Here.”

Her eyes widen. “Here?”

“Here.” She nods once. “If the whole point is for you and Alex to be in the same room, she could come to the ranch. I’ll move my stuff out the studio and set up in the media room or one of the guest rooms upstairs. Lord knows I have the space.”

“You would really do that for me?” Bradley questions.

“If it means keeping you here, yes,” she replies plainly.

“What about your history with Alex?” Bradley enquires. “Won’t that be awkward?”

“I’m sure it would be for a day or two.” Laura crosses her legs, extending an arm over the back of the sofa, and Bradley finds her confidence exceedingly sexy. “Alex and I are adults—we should be able to act as such if she joins us.”

She dips her chin and smirks. “Are we talking about the same Alex?”

That earns her a grin. “Run it by Stella, then ask her to take it to Cory.”

“Why wouldn’t I just go directly to him?” Bradley has never gone directly to Stella for anything; maybe that’s why most things she asks for don’t get approved.

“You should follow protocol.” Laura stands, raising the window to allow the breeze to filter in. “You report to Stella; talk to her first.”

Bradley gets to her feet and scratches her head. “Are you sure about this?”

“Alex would have to quarantine just like you did for two weeks,” she responds, picking her book up, then sitting back on the sofa. “Maybe she can stay with Maggie in the guest house.” Laura knows that’ll never happen, but she enjoys saying it aloud.

Bradley smirks.

“What?”

“What?”

Laura lowers the book again. “Don’t get any matchmaking ideas in your head, honey. That ship has long since sailed.”

Bradley sticks a hand on her hip. “I don’t know if Alex will agree to come here anyway since it doesn’t appear that Maggie will leave in the next few weeks.”

“There is that little issue,” she replies. “Which might be an even harder sell for Alex.”

Bradley chews on the inside of her lip for a moment. “I’ll have to figure out a way to broach the topic.” She leans down to kiss Laura. “I’m going to make some calls. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Laura smiles, watching her petulant lover turn to leave without bothering to collect her heels. “Good luck!”

Bradley spends the next two hours, talking to Stella, Gayle and RJ about the idea of Alex traveling to Montana to do the broadcast. They all think it’s a fabulous idea, but none of them are convinced Alex will go for it. Her next call is to the woman in question. She decides to take a shot of tequila before what will surely be a contentious conversation.

“Bradley, hi,” Alex answers. “I see you all the time online, but we’ve never really talked outside of work since the pandemic.”

“I know; it’s a shame,” she responds. Before leaving Manhattan, the women had developed a sort of unexpected kinship. Bradley left New York on good terms, and she’s hoping to pick up where they left off. “How are you feeling?”

“You mean after Covid?” she asks. “It was a bitch for 10 days, but things improved pretty rapidly after that. I was fatigued more than anything for like a month, but I’m back to feeling like myself again.”

“Is Lizzy quarantining with you?”

Alex chortles. “We tried to live together for a couple weeks…let’s just say it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. She’s with Jason.”

“Does that make you sad?”

“It did at first,” she sighs. “But I’ve moved past it.”

“Good.” Bradley decides to switch gears. “It sounds like you and I are on the same page about not reporting back to work in two weeks.”

“God, yes,” Alex snorts. “I don’t want to get that fucking virus again—people have had it twice, you know.”

She nods.

Alex tips a bottle of Grey Goose over a glass. “I’m not putting myself in that position for the fucking network that tries to belittle me at every turn.”

Bradley sits in the swivel chair in the office. “What if they mandate you and I have to be in the same studio?”

“They can go fuck themselves,” she offers through an audacious laugh.

“I’m serious, Alex,” she replies. “I talked to my agent, and he said there’s nothing in my contract to prevent them from making me report back to work even during the pandemic.”

“Mine said the same thing, but I’m not doing it,” Alex adamantly replies. “What are they going to do, fire me?”

Bradley puts her iPhone on speaker, then sets it on her desk. “What if I have another solution?”

“What solution could you possibly have?” she asks cynically.

Bradley takes a deep breath. “Come to the ranch in Montana. There’s a two-bedroom guest house with an office. You could stay here all summer.”

“Laura’s ranch?” Her eyebrows form peaks on her forehead. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” Bradley shrugs. “She has a soundproof studio, tons of land, four horses, and a stocked pond for fishing. Apparently, it never reaches above 85 degrees in the summer, and that’s considered a hot spell,” she tries. “It’s the perfect place to wait out the virus.”

“Bradley…” Alex rattles her head. “Maybe your girlfriend hasn’t told you, but Laura and I have…history.”

“She did tell me,” Bradley responds. “And why’d you say girlfriend in that tone?”

“I’ve seen Laura Peterson go through women like I go through vodka,” she grumbles, bringing the glass with said vodka to her mouth. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you’re probably not the last woman she’ll bed.”

“I can tell you this much,” Bradley states, getting to her feet. “If you disparage my relationship, this definitely won’t work.” She pauses, nostrils beginning to flare. “Laura and I have been together since the middle of March, and you’ve never once asked me about her. You have no idea what our level of commitment is, Alex, so don’t come at me with threats of Laura walking out as if I’m just another fucking notch on her bedpost!”

“I’m sorry.” Alex clears her throat. “You’re right…You’re right. I haven’t asked about your relationship.”

Bradley tries controlling her breathing as she paces the length of her office.

“Mostly because Laura doesn’t like me,” she finishes. “I didn’t want to dredge up old wounds.”

“You’re a fucking adult! You’re my co-worker to boot.” She stops near the desk, leaning forward to speak into the phone. “I’d like to think you care enough about me after all the shit we’ve been through to ask how I’m doing.”

“It’s complicated.” Alex sits on a barstool and cradles her head in her hand. “I knew if I asked how you’re doing, Laura’s name would come up.”

She spreads her arms open. “So?”

“We aren’t even on speaking terms!” Alex shouts. “She hates me, and I have no idea why.”

Bradley picks up the phone and continues pacing. “Have you ever thought about asking her directly?”

“Has she ever thought about talking to me?” Alex asks incredulously. “I’m not the one who can’t stand her—this is all Laura.”

“I think there’s this massive misunderstanding between y’all.” She slices a hand through the air. “If I know anything about Laura, it’s that she’s a good listener and is a genius at solving problems.”

“I’m guessing that’s what years of therapy will do to a person,” she chides.

“Alex,” Bradley replies in a severe tone. “I meant what I said earlier—I’m not going to listen to you belittle my partner.”

She pauses before taking a sip. “Partner?”

Bradley considers how much to say to a woman who clearly has confidence issues when it comes to Laura, but she refuses to shy away from what Laura has come to mean to her. “We’re in love.”

“In love? Wow…” Alex sniffs. “I was not expecting that.”

She sits back in her chair. “Did you think I would traipse all the way to Montana without that being a possibility?”

“I never really considered why you went to Montana,” she confesses.

Bradley is quickly reminded how self-absorbed Alex can be.

“I figured you two hit it off when you met in Iowa, and Laura invited you to quarantine with her.” Alex squeezes lime into her drink. “Now that I think about it, there was that time at the theater when we saw Moulin Rouge and I suspected something was going on, but I didn’t say anything.”

“Nothing was going on back then,” she replies, eyes downcast. “Laura was with Simone.”

Alex chokes on an amused sound that doesn’t quite leave her mouth. Maybe Bradley can pretend nothing was going on, but Alex can’t deny what she witnessed.

“They broke up not long after that.” Bradley refuses to tell her they actually broke up that very night—it’s not a critical fact in the story. “Laura spent a couple weeks processing things and decided to…” She scrunches her lips to the side. “She decided to deepen our friendship.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m not looking for your blessing,” Bradley begins through a heavy breath. “I wasn’t even the one who considered asking you to come to the ranch.”

She lifts her brows. “Laura suggested it?”

“She did.”

“Huh.” Alex never fathomed it would be Laura inviting her anywhere much less to spend the summer on her ranch. “Why on earth would she suggest that?”

“Mostly because she doesn’t want me going back to New York,” Bradley answers. “And this seemed like a decent compromise.”

“I don’t know, Bradley,” she sighs. “We’d need to clear the air before I stepped foot on a plane.”

“I can arrange that,” she eagerly replies.

Alex takes a sip of vodka. “Let me think about it overnight.”

“There’s something else I should tell you…” Bradley isn’t looking forward to this part. She gets to her feet for the second time. “We have another guest at the ranch.”

“Who?”

Bradley holds her breath. “Maggie Brener.”

Alex freezes and her eyes pop open. “Mmm...” She can’t get the name out, so she clears her throat. “Maggie is there?”

“She’s going through a divorce,” Bradley begins, trying to get Alex to offer a little sympathy. “And she’s been isolating alone in New York. She and Laura are good friends, so she thought it would be nice to get away for a while.”

“Well…” Alex returns to the freezer, pulling out the bottle of Grey Goose. “In that case, you can forget about me doing the show with you in Montana.”

“Don’t be so harsh, Alex,” she tries.

“You read her book!” She shouts. “Maggie tarnished my reputation!”

“You’re getting speaking engagements and endorsements left and right,” Bradley states. “If anything, Maggie actually helped your career.”

“Ha!” she laughs.

Bradley lowers her head, feeling defeated.

“You have no idea the history we have,” Alex replies barely above a whisper.

“What if you’re wrong about that?” Bradley promised Maggie she wouldn’t tell a soul, but since Alex is the other half of the equation, she hopes she’s not breaking her confidence.

“Excuse me?”

“All I’m saying is there seems to be a misunderstanding between all y’all,” she attempts. “I bet if you talked—really talked and listened—you’d mend fences quicker than you think.”

Alex plops two ice cubes in her glass, then swirls the clear liquid before taking a sip. “Did Laura or Maggie tell you that?”

Bradley shrugs. “They’re both open to conversation.”

She closes her eyes, tossing her head back. Not a week goes by when Alex doesn’t think about what happened the summer in the late 90s that eventually bled into Laura’s outing. She’s lived with considerable guilt for over 20 years. There were times when Alex was this close to picking up the phone, but she never followed through. Maybe now was her chance.

“This feels like a set up,” Alex says with eyes still shut.

“It would be a set up if I didn’t tell you Maggie was here,” Bradley tries. “Like I said, you could stay in the guest house all summer. Maggie can move into the main house—this place is big enough where you won’t even have to see her if you don’t want to.”

She rubs her temples. “This is a lot to process, Bradley.”

“Just think about it,” she says. “If it’s uncomfortable for more than a couple days, I’ll go back to New York, and we can do the show from there.”

“Fine, I’ll consider it,” she sighs. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Bradley issues a tight-lipped smile. “Fair enough.” It’s more than she thought she’d get.

Chapter Text

After two days of back and forth with Alex and Cory, they agree to move forward with the broadcast from Laura’s ranch. Initially, Cory put up a fight, but Cybil and Stella agreed this could be a boon for ratings especially if Bradley and Laura decide to come out at some point during the pandemic. The speculation about where Bradley has been broadcasting has the internet on fire, and some have surmised she’s with Laura. Cybil doesn’t say as much aloud, but she intends to have a conversation with Laura soon to discuss a plan for revealing their relationship status. The two have been friends for more than 20 years, so while the conversation is personal, at least in Cybil’s mind, it’s not invasive.

“All settled?” Laura asks from the entryway to one of the guest bedrooms in the main house.

“Just about.” Maggie tucks a pile of socks into a dresser drawer. “I still can’t believe Alex agreed to come.”

She smiles. “Neither can I.”

“Have you two spoken?” Maggie asks.

Laura shakes her head. “Apparently, she told Bradley she wouldn’t come to the ranch before talking to me, but I guess she convinced Alex to have a conversation with me in person.”

Maggie makes a little sound. “This will be very interesting.”

“Maybe it’s none of my business.” Laura steps further into the room. “But do you hope to…rekindle things with Alex?”

“God, no,” Maggie chuckles. She has no regrets about what happened that summer, but she’s still hurt after Alex disappeared without warning. “But I would appreciate if she acknowledged we had something special back then.”

“I don’t know if Alex Levy can put her ego aside long enough to do that.” Laura grins. “I’d settle for a sincere apology.”

She shoves her empty suitcase underneath the bed. “So would I.”

Laura takes her friend’s hand. “If you want to avoid her the whole time or just at first, we can work something out—it’s a big ranch.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m an adult,” Maggie replies. “And I intend to act like one with you, Bradley and even with Alex Levy.”

She pulls her in for a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you.” Maggie smiles. “Happy for you, too. I don’t know if I’ve told you that since being here. It’s hard to believe it’s been almost four weeks.”

Laura’s grin turns into a humble smile. “Bradley’s good for me.”

“You’re good for each other,” she responds. “I’m not usually one to wax poetic about relationships, but I can see a future with the two of you. I really can.”

Laura dips her chin. “Really?”

“Your strengths are her weaknesses and vice versa.” She raises her shoulders. “You communicate effectively and have fun together. There’s a lot of give and take in your relationship. I don’t know if that’s taken work or if it happened naturally, but you’re a good couple.”

She smiles. “A little of both, I suppose.”

Maggie squeezes her hand before letting go. “Well, count your blessings.”

“I do every day.”

“Babe, are you up there?” Bradley calls from downstairs.

“Let me know if you need anything or if I can be a buffer between you and Alex…better yet, maybe I’ll ask Brad serve as a buffer,” Laura says through a light laugh before stepping out and calling down, “I was making sure Maggie was getting settled.”

“Alex’s just landed.”

Laura jogs down the stairs. “Let the fireworks begin.”

Alex doesn’t see Laura or Maggie during the 14 days she’s quarantining in the guest house other than a quick hello the day she arrived. Things between the three of them had never been resolved and Alex suspects neither Laura nor Maggie wants to speak to her before they absolutely have to. She spends time with Bradley on a few occasions, but always outdoors and socially distanced.

The rest of the time Alex either works, preps for the show, or takes long walks alone on the property. She’s happy to get away from city life, but she knows her work is cut out for her in terms of rebuilding friendships that have long since expired.

On an early evening walk, Alex picks a purple wildflower on the way back to the guest house. “This a beautiful place.”

“It is.” Bradley sucks in a breath of freshly mowed grass. “I’m lucky to be here.”

“You are,” Alex responds. “Do you want to tell me about you and Laura?”

She retracts her chin. “Are you really interested or is this your polite way of making conversation?”

“I’m interested, honey.” Alex squeezes her hand and offers a soft smile. “Tell me.”

“Ok, well, you know where Laura and I met...” she begins, leaving out the kiss in the car. “We quickly became friends despite your warning.”

“God...” Alex tips her head back. “I had no idea how badly that would backfire.”

Bradley knows she’s joking and offers a light laugh. “We hung out when we could, but Laura was with Simone. After they broke up, I think I told you, she took a few weeks off to process everything.”

She bends down to pick a few more wildflowers. “Did you know you back then you liked Laura even though she was in a relationship?”

“I didn’t want to, but yeah,” Bradley confesses. “I’d only been with girls a handful of times but none of them were girlfriend material.”

“Mmm.” She smells the flowers.

“The more I got to know Laura, the more I was drawn to her,” Bradley continues. “Her confidence, her sense of humor, her intelligence...I was attracted to all of it—all of her. When we finally admitted how we felt, everything changed,” she says through a nostalgic smile. “It was early in the pandemic, and of course we were concerned about the virus, but she was helped me process things. She’s a good listener; good at offering advice.”

A tiny smile surfaces. “I remember that about her.”

“I do think she misses you as a friend,” Bradley says, twisting her neck to glance at her companion. “She hasn’t said as much, but I get the feeling you meant a lot to her.”

“Well, hopefully we can get back to the way things were.”

Bradley isn’t convinced that’s going to happen in full, but she knows Laura will try. If Alex allows herself to be vulnerable and can step out of her own egotistical shadow for a minute, perhaps they can rekindle their affection and return to being good friends.

The morning after Alex receives a negative Covid test, she and Bradley do the show together for the first time since late March. They both get up early, and she greets Alex at the door before sunrise.

“Come in.”

Alex steps inside and glances at the elkhorn chandelier above. “Wow.” She looks around the foyer and expansive living room. “Nice.”

“Want some coffee?” Bradley whispers though she knows Laura can’t hear a thing with their bedroom door closed.

“I had some before coming over.” She flattens her palms down her pleated skirt. “I assume Laura and Maggie are still asleep.”

“God, yes,” Bradley chuckles as she leads Alex downstairs. “I don’t know about Maggie, but Laura doesn’t typically get out of bed until six.” She leaves out the part about kissing Laura before she leaves the bedroom to do the show, and Laura whispering a groggy version of Good morning, honey. Break a leg.

“The show is halfway over by then.”

“She records it, but I think she’s only ever watched the replay a couple times.” Bradley steps inside the studio. “Here we are.”

She and Laura created a new background, so it looks vastly different from the one they each used for months. Now, instead of two desks, there’s only one since Laura moved hers to the media room two doors down. There’s a tall wooden shelf filled with books, an unlit candle, a potted plant and a few knickknacks. There’s also a tall Fiddle-leaf fig tree on the opposite side. Bradley switched out the lamp on the desk in favor of one with a marble base and white lamp shade. She did a rehearsal on Friday with the tech folks back in New York, and everyone agreed the soft light was nice. On Alex’s side of the desk just out of camera’s view is an LED ring light.

“Not bad.” Alex runs her fingertips along the white lacquered desk. “You said the sound is good—not too tinny?”

“It’s great.” She points to the matting on the far wall. “We’ve played around with this stuff quite a bit.”

“Seems like it.” She takes the seat on the right—same side she usually sits next to Bradley in the New York studio. “Is this ok?”

“Yep.” Before Bradley sits down, she opens the small refrigerator in the corner. “We have water, sodas, and even a few beers in here if you get thirsty.”

“Ha, don’t tempt me.” Alex opens a folder on the desk. “Is it time to call in yet?”

Bradley glances at the wall-mounted clock. “Two minutes.” She moves to her chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Oddly nervous for some reason.” She runs her fingers through her straightened hair. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once the camera is rolling.”

“I’m sure you will.”

They spend the first 10 minutes adjusting Alex’s lighting and the distance between them, and then they dive into the broadcast with the kind of pomp & circumstance Cory had hoped for.

The show goes off without a hitch, and the only thing they reveal about their location is they’re together again. They tell the audience they’ll reveal where they are sometime in July and encourage viewers to text or Tweet their guesses until then. Alex and Bradley hug on-camera before the end of the segment, and Cory says during the first break the numbers are already up from their last broadcast.

After the show, they have a three-hour meeting instead of the usual one- or two-hour post-show analysis. The technical crew asks Bradley to adjust a few things and Chip instructs Alex to move her chair a bit to the right the next morning. Hair and makeup give them some advice about shades of eyeshadow that work with the lighting, and wardrobe reminds them to coordinate their colors next time.

All-in-all, the women feel good about how smoothly things went.

Bradley gets up and stretches. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“I could eat.”

She tucks the laptop in her bag. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”

Alex shoves her notes into the folder she brought over and keeps her eyes averted. “I assume Laura and Maggie are awake by now.”

“I assume so.” She glances Alex’s way. “You’re going to have to see them at some point.”

“I know,” she replies in a harsh tone. “I’m just…I’m not ready.”

“Well, if I know Laura, she’s making some elaborate breakfast to celebrate our first day back on air together.” It hasn’t taken Bradley long to appreciate how much Laura takes care of her. She’s never had to mention she’s hungry after the show—Laura sensed it when Bradley moved in and has always anticipated her needs. “I’m sure there’s more than enough to go around.”

Alex gets to her feet and glances at the desk once more to ensure she’s gathered her belongings.

Bradley proceeds upstairs with Alex on her heels. Just as they enter the hallway that leads to the living room, Laura comes out of their bedroom clad in joggers and a casual button-up blouse.

Laura stops in her tracks when she unexpectedly sees Alex but is quick to recover. “Good morning. Great show.”

“Thanks.” Bradley walks up to her, tilting her chin up for a kiss. “It was nice to be together again.”

“I’m sure.” She stares down at her woman with a proud smile, then turns her attention to her newest guest. “Hi, Alex. Welcome.”

She clears her throat. “I’ve been here for two weeks, so the welcome is a bit late.”

Bradley clenches her jaw—she should’ve expected Alex’s hint of bitterness.

Laura’s lips tic to the side as she studies the woman who used to be a friend. She’s too professional and composed to retort with something equally unpleasant. “Well, I’m glad you’re here at least for the network’s sake.”

Alex gives her a look but remains silent. Although her pulse is elevated, seeing Laura for the first time since arriving on the ranch wasn’t that bad. She’s unsure if her reaction will be as pleasant upon seeing Maggie.

Laura takes her woman’s hand and proceeds to the kitchen. “I made pancakes and bacon.” She turns to see if Alex is following. “Join us.”

Alex shifts the hair off her forehead. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Laura replies. “They’re just going to go to waste if you don’t eat at least one.”

“Please stay,” Bradley pleads, hoping Alex feels more comfortable with every minute she’s there. “I’ll make mimosas.”

“Well, in that case…” Alex’s lips nudge up a bit. “I suppose I could stay for a bit.”

“Good.” Bradley turns into the kitchen and spots their other guest at the table, reading the newspaper. This will be the first time Maggie and Alex come face to face, but Bradley doesn’t want to make things more awkward than they’ll likely be, so she proceeds as if everything is normal. “Morning, Maggie.”

Maggie looks up from the Bozeman Daily Chronicle. “Good morning, Bradley.” Then she sees the other woman who has paused in the entryway—it nearly takes her breath away. “Alex.”

“Maggie.” She lays her palm flat on her gurgling stomach and pulls her shoulders back. “Hi.”

“Good to see you.” Maggie lowers the newspaper, unable to stop herself from taking in Alex’s impressive physique. “It’s been a while.”

Alex clears her throat. “Yeah…it has.” Her pulse quickens as she watches Maggie’s lips form a once familiar grin. She’d always loved Maggie’s Mona Lisa-like grin and often felt like it was reserved just for her.

Laura breaks the silence. “Can I get anyone coffee?”

“I’d love a cup.” Alex moves towards the counter, keeping her distance from her former lover. She wishes the next 48 hours were behind her so the discomfort would dissipate.

Bradley eyes each woman as she works the cork on the bottle of Champagne. She’s thankful this presumably most awkward interaction is almost over. “Who’s ready for a mimosa?”

“I’ll have one,” Laura says while pouring the dark roast into a mug.

“I suppose I’ll drink one,” Maggie replies, folding the newspaper.

Alex nods. “I wish I could make it a double.”

Bradley gets four flutes out of the cupboard and begins pouring. “We have plenty of Champagne, so if you want a whole bottle to yourself, I can make that happen.”

Laura hands Alex the coffee, then opens the fridge, plucking the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. “I never really showed Maggie around the kitchen, so I might as well give you both a tour now. Help yourself to anything, and if we’re running low, there’s a pad of paper on the other side of the refrigerator.”

“How often do you go to the grocery store?” Maggie asks, getting up from her chair.

“We mostly have stuff delivered,” she replies. “But we like to go in person once a month for produce and seafood.”

While Laura shows the women around the kitchen and wine cellar, Bradley hands each of them a glass. Alex feels more at ease during the tour and then over breakfast when they talk about The Morning Show; however, after everyone’s finished eating their share of pancakes and bacon, the nerves settle in again.

Bradley opens a second bottle of Champagne, topping off everyone’s glass. Only Laura adds a little orange juice to hers—the other women have begun drinking the bubbly straight.

“I know there’s a giant elephant in the room,” Alex begins through a heavy sigh, hoping to rip the Band Aid off without fanfare. “And I want to talk with each of you about…” she trails off, wondering how to finish. “About what happened between us.”

Maggie lifts her eyebrows; Laura appears as stoic as ever. Bradley knows there’s very little that rattles her partner, but she can sense Laura’s uneasiness.

Alex feels like she just swallowed a lemon. “Would you be open to that?”

Laura is the first to respond, “I would.”

“Yes,” Maggie says without blinking.

“The sooner we get this over the better,” Alex pushes her chair out. “I’m going to get out of these work clothes. Laura, would you be willing to talk in about half an hour?”

“Sure.” She takes a sip of mimosa. “Should I come to the guest house?”

“That would be great.”

She holds up the bottle. “I’ll bring whatever’s left of this.”

“Even better.” Alex smiles, then turns to Maggie. “Maybe you and I can talk later?”

Maggie’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “You know where to find me.”

“Right.” Alex downs the rest of her Champagne, then picks her folder up off the counter. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Bradley stands. “I’ll walk you out.” She leads Alex to the front door. “I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of,” Alex grumbles. “I feel like a schoolgirl, asking for permission to get my ass chewed out.”

“That’s not how it’s going to go.” Bradley shakes her head. “These women cared about you—they aren’t going to rip you a new one, Alex. Tempers may flare, but y’all have some serious shit to discuss. After that, maybe things will be back to normal.”

She scratches her chin. “It feels like I’m about to be sent to the guillotine.” She’s still pissed about Maggie’s book and feels the writer owes her an apology. As for Laura, so much time has passed that she hopes an apology is more of a formality than anything.

“The sooner you talk, the sooner it’ll be over.” Bradley reaches for her hand. “And you don’t have to worry about Laura raising her voice—it’s not something she does. If you offer a sincere apology, I’m confident she’ll accept.”

“Right.” She shakes her hair over her shoulders. “Well, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

Bradley grasps her hand before letting go. “Good luck.”

Chapter Text

Alex survived Covid, almost being fired, and has finally gotten on the other side of the fallout from her affair with Mitch, but today is likely going to be one of the toughest days of her life. She knows she'll need to apologize to Laura and Maggie, but she’s never been great at making amends. She’d talked with therapists over the years about both women, but it had been at least five years since the topic surfaced until last week when she consulted Dr. Sullivan about her issues and took notes on how to best proceed.

She’s been a ball of nerves since agreeing to join Bradley on the ranch, but Alex knows it’s time to clear the air. If she can just get through these two conversations, perhaps the guilt she’s kept buried inside for more than 20 years will finally fade away.

She changes into yoga pants and a light t-shirt, then fluffs the pillows on the sofa in the living room before Laura arrives. Alex isn’t prone to a messy home, but she has papers, folders and notepads scattered throughout the space. She stacks them in a pile on the coffee table, then opens the window on the East side of the room to allow the cool breeze to waft in. She takes a deep breath when she hears a tap on the door.

“It’s open.”

“Hi.” Laura steps inside. “I hope the guest house has been spacious enough.”

“It’s fine…I have everything I need.” Alex clasps her hands in front of her. “Thank you for buying groceries before I arrived. I’m happy to pay you back.”

“My treat.” Laura holds up one hand. “I’m glad you liked what we bought.”

“Everything except the deli meat—I’m not a fan of cold cuts unless it’s Boar’s Head.” She can’t take the statement back before it leaves her mouth, so she changes course. “I see you brought Champagne.”

Laura refrains from rolling her eyes over Alex’s comment about the Oscar Meyer turkey she purchased. Alex has always been picky if not downright snobbish when it comes to food; Laura should’ve expected as much.

She holds the Bollinger up. “They were still nursing the opened bottle when I left, so I brought a new one.”

“Maggie has always loved bubbles,” Alex muses as she moves to the kitchen. “I think I saw some Champagne flutes in here.”

“They’re with the other stemware in the cabinet above the dishwasher.” Laura works on the cork.

“Ah, right.” She brings two flutes to the table. “I’m fine without OJ. You?”

“Sure.” She pulls the cork out and appreciates the pop it makes. “I have an interview with the director of the CDC later this afternoon, so I can’t get too tipsy.”

Alex hands her one glass. “The beauty of morning television is that I have the entire afternoon and evening to get as tipsy as I’d like.”

She fills it, then takes the other.

“Thank you.” Alex moves to the living room. “I could’ve rented a house not too far away. I considered it, but when I realized what time we have to wake up to do the show with the two hour time difference, I figured it would be better to walk to the studio rather than having a 20-minute commute.”

“That is the convenience of having an in-home studio.” Laura moves to the armchair and takes a seat. She thought she’d be more apprehensive about the conversation they’re about to have, but she feels relatively calm so far. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it when I return to New York. I’ve been spoiled here.”

She laughs lightly. “Well, at least you don’t have to wake up at 3:30 in the morning like I do.”

“I don’t miss those days.” She takes a sip, then decides to rip the Band Aid off. “So, you wanted to talk?”

Alex takes a deep breath. She’d been thinking about how she wanted to begin their discussion, and now is the time to put it into practice.  “Do you remember that night when we went to see Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk?”

She can’t follow Alex’s train of thought. “Huh?”

“It was you, me, Jo, Sydney…oh, and um, Maggie…”

“No, yeah…I remember.” Laura has no clue where this is going, but if Alex has any intention of apologizing this is a circuitous route to take.

She brings her hands to her lap. “That was fun.”

Laura tilts her head. “Yeah, it was.”

Fuck it, Alex thinks, might as well cut to the chase. “Why don’t you like me? What did I do?”

Laura lets out an incredulous huff—she wasn’t expecting such direct questions. “You have no idea?”

“No. All I know was one day we were friends and the next day you pretended you didn’t even know me.”

“Really? Cause one day I suddenly didn’t like you anymore.” She dips her chin. “Do you remember what was happening around that time?”

“Yes, I do, and it was really hard for you, and you needed your space.”

“I needed my space?” Laura chokes on another audacious laugh. “Did I tell you that?”

Alex hesitates. “No, but we weren’t really that close.”

“Well, we were close enough to see Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk,” she states. “I mean you came to my house for dinner a bunch that summer.”

She grasps the Champagne flute with both hands. “Well, I was friends with your friends, and I had just moved to New York. I just knew that I had liked you.”

“I was successful. That was pretty much your only prerequisite.” She knows it sounds harsh, but Laura refuses to pussyfoot around the way Alex treated her back then.

“Wow, do you really believe that?”

“Well, we weren’t really friends anymore after things went South for me, were we?” Laura crosses her legs. “So, all I know is that you moseyed in on my friends and you liked to talk, and voilà, the world knows all my private business.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I did talk about it. It was gossip.” Alex’s face crinkles. “Everybody talked about it…” She shuts her eyes for a few seconds, reflecting on her actions all those years ago. “Boy, gossip seemed so much less vicious back then.”

“Well, that’s because no one was gossiping about you yet,” Laura plainly comments. “And I imagine you had no ill intent, but we are our actions.”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Alex nods, stomach churning with bile. “I wish we had straightened that out sooner.”

“What would you have said?” She grins, curious to hear her answer. “If I asked you back then if you were gossiping?”

Alex contemplates the question for a moment, deciding she should continue with honesty even though it’s making her physically ill. “I probably would’ve denied it.”

Laura offers a half-smile and tight nod.

“Well…” Alex glances at her lap. “It would’ve been fun to be friends over the last few years. I’m really sorry I screwed that up.”

If Alex is willing to be vulnerable, Laura feels like she should be as well. “I said shit about you, too.”

Alex scratches her chin. “Thank you for that.”

“I mean it.” She takes a sip of Bollinger. “When you disappeared—not just on me but on Maggie—I bad-mouthed you, too. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Alex tips her head back. “Ugh, Maggie.”

She takes another sip. “I’m guessing that conversation will be more difficult than this one.”

“Yeah.” Alex straightens. “I know what I did to you was cruel. I was only looking out for myself back then.”

She lifts a shoulder. “We all have our moments.”

“I’m sorry, Laura. I really am.” She leans forward. “If I had to do it all over again, I would’ve been by your side.”

“I appreciate that.” Laura isn’t sure how genuine Alex is, but her body language and soft tone lead her to believe there’s sincerity in her apology. “Now that Bradley and I are a couple and you’re living here for the time being, I’m hoping we can start over.”

She tilts her head. “I’d really like that.”

“Consider it done.” Laura knows it’s not as simple as that and she has no intention of confiding in Alex about anything overtly personal, but she’ll be kind to her. Maybe over time they can return to the friendship they had back then, but it’ll never be the same—at least not in Laura’s eyes.

Alex takes two gulps of Champagne, thrilled the hardest part is over. “So, tell me about you and Bradley.”

“Mmm…” Laura glances to the side, immediately picturing her woman’s radiant smile and almost forgetting the serious conversation she and Alex just had. “She’s something.”

“She sure is.” Alex smiles. “She really likes being with you…I mean, we haven’t talked extensively, but that’s my impression.”

Laura gets up to retrieve the Champagne. “Considering we share a bed; I hope that’s the case.”

Alex chuckles. “I’m happy for you—for both of you.”

“Thank you.” She tips the bottle over Alex’s empty glass. “Bradley keeps me on my toes.”

“I would imagine,” Alex’s laugh is more pronounced. “She’s a firecracker.”

“She is.” Laura fills her own glass. “But that’s not her only…asset if you want to call it that.”

She sips the sparkling wine. “Tell me more.”

“Bradley is intelligent, kind-hearted, generous, funny, thoughtful…” Laura sets the bottle back on the table, then moves to the armchair. “I could go on and on, but I don’t want to sound like a lovesick idiot.”

“Are you?” Alex asks.

She takes a seat. “Lovesick or a fool?”

Alex shrugs. “Either.”

“A little bit of both, I suppose.” She brings the glass to her mouth. “I do love her, and I’d do anything for her.”

“Including inviting an estranged friend to your ranch,” she offers through an appreciative smile.

Laura grins. “Including that.”

They spend the next 20 minutes talking about Bradley, work, the weather and the beauty of their surroundings. Neither woman chooses to bring up old times—that’ll come in time. For now, they simply enjoy becoming reacquainted even if it means discussing trivial things.

“Despite Bradley complaining I smoke everything on my Traeger, I’m going to grill some pork sausages tomorrow night.” Laura sets her empty flute on the table. “Join us for dinner.”

“Thank you.” She scratches her forehead. “Before I accept, I need to talk with Maggie. I have a feeling that conversation isn’t going to be as straightforward as this one—not that this was particularly easy.”

Laura smiles as she makes her way to the front door. “At least we cleared the air.”

“We did.” She stands in front of her, lifting Laura’s hand. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Thank you for being vulnerable—I know how uncomfortable that can be.” Laura squeezes it, then releases.

She brushes hair off her forehead. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Laura singularly nods. “Hope so.” She steps out and sucks in a deep breath of honeysuckle, pleased at how their conversation went. It could’ve gotten heated, but life is too short, Laura thinks, for holding grudges. It’s better to move forward cautiously than to dwell on past offenses.

She steps inside the main house and searches for Bradley. She’s not in the living room, kitchen or their bedroom. She checks downstairs, but she’s not in the studio or in the fitness room. She goes upstairs and calls for Bradley as she moves from one room to the next.

As she makes her way down the hall, she sees Maggie in her bedroom, sitting in a wingback chair next to the window. “Hey.”

Maggie looks up from a book. “How’d it go with Alex?”

“Better than expected,” she states. “Minimally I think we’ll be civil towards each other; hopefully even friendly.”

“I’m glad.”

“It doesn’t seem like she’s looking forward to talking with you though,” Laura adds, crossing her arms.

“I would imagine that isn’t something she’d be joyfully anticipating,” Maggie responds with a little smirk.

“Give her a chance,” Laura advises. “You might be pleasantly surprised.”

She grins. “One can only hope.”

“Hey, have you seen Bradley?”

“Last I heard, she was going to catch some rays outside.” She uses air quotes around those three words.

Laura retracts her chin. Bradley has never, as far as she knows, sunbathed if that’s what she’s to understand. Maybe she’s just sitting on the patio or lying in the hammock near the pond, enjoying the mid-June sunshine.

“Huh.” Laura steps out, then calls to Maggie, “Good luck with Alex.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “I’ll need it.”

She makes her way downstairs and steps onto the patio, shading her eyes from the bright sun and scanning the grassy area that leads to the barn. “Bradley?”

When she doesn’t answer, Laura moves to the side of the house where they’ve planted two garden beds. Maybe she decided to pick flowers, something she’s done every two or three days to, as Bradley says, brighten up the place. There are vases of daisies, roses and hydrangeas in almost every room, and while she often forgets to dump them when they’re past their prime, Laura chuckles as she does the job when Bradley comes in with a fresh bunch.

Not far from the maple trees and red Adirondack chairs, she spots her woman, lying on a blanket on her stomach and reading…in a bright red bikini.

She smirks as she walks over.  “Well, if it isn’t Bradley Jackson.”

She twists her neck and smiles, Ray Ban aviators in place. “That’s me.”

Laura doesn’t comment on Bradley’s eyewear, though not even 24 hours earlier, she’d asked her woman if she’d seen her Ray Bans. “What are you doing?”

She closes the fly-fishing book she’d been reading, then sits up. “Do you really have to ask?”

She drags her eyes over Bradley’s curvy body. “I’ve never seen you in a bikini.”

“You’ve seen me naked.” She shrugs. “It’s almost the same.”

Laura lowers herself to the blanket, placing a hand on Bradley’s cheek and kissing her. “You are So. Fucking. Sexy.”

Bradley grins.

“This makes me want to take you to a tropical location.” Laura continues kissing her. “Where you’d either be wearing a bikini or nothing at all.” She wonders if Bradley has ever been to the Bahamas or the Seychelles or even a beach outside of the Atlantic Seaboard. Perhaps if they get married, which she knows is a longshot, Laura will whisk her away to the Maldives for a couple weeks.

“I’d love to go to a beach with you.” Bradley pulls back, smiling. “I’m a fast packer—just say when.”

It’s Laura’s turn to smile. She refrains from commenting on their two FaceTime calls when Bradley was still in New York, trying to pack for her trip to Montana; it was anything but fast.

She sets the book down. “How’d it go with Alex?”

“Better than expected,” she repeats the same phrase she told Maggie.

Bradley stretches out on the blanket, head on her girlfriend’s lap while Laura fills her in on the details. Laura mindlessly strings her fingers through Bradley’s wavy hair, every so often getting distracted by the way her breasts fill out the bikini top.

“It would mean the world to me if y’all were friends again,” Bradley says.

“Maybe we’ll get there.” She leans down to peck her on the lips. “But I’m not so sure about Maggie and Alex.”

“That’s a tougher one,” she replies. “More personal.”

Laura glances off into the distance, thinking about that summer when they were all so close. While she’d love to rekindle their friendship, she’s uncertain if Maggie will forgive Alex for ghosting her all those years ago.

Bradley looks up at her. “Penny for your thoughts.”

She doesn’t want to discuss her old friends any longer, so she switches gears. “Right now, they’re very inappropriate.”

Bradley smirks again. “You wanna do something about that?”

“Not in public,” she responds. “But if you come inside, I’d be happy to show you what your mostly naked body does to me.”

“No one’s going to find us out here.” She sits up. “We can be discreet.”

Laura chuckles. “I’m not having sex with you, knowing Alex and Maggie are within earshot.”

Bradley stands, pulling the elastic bikini bottom around her butt. “Let’s go behind the barn.”

“What has gotten into you?” Laura’s laugh continues. “We have a perfectly nice bed inside.”

“I want to try something different.” Bradley holds out her hand. “We’ve never had sex outdoors.”

She can’t believe she’s actually considering this. “Are you serious?”

Bradley steps back, running a hand down her toned stomach. “Don’t you want me?”

“You know I do.” Laura’s laughter dies and is replaced by deep desire. “But not here.”

Bradley tugs her towards the barn, then moves to the back of it. Unless someone was exploring every nook and cranny of the ranch, there’s no way they’d venture behind the barn. There’s only about five feet of grass between the barn and the fence that leads to her neighbor’s property, but their home is nowhere near the perimeter. The likelihood of getting caught is slim to none at all.

Bradley leans up to kiss her girlfriend. “Here?”

It doesn’t take long for things to heat up. Laura’s hands can’t travel over Bradley’s sun-kissed skin fast enough. She runs her fingers down Bradley’s sides, dipping her fingers into her bikini bottom, earning a moan. While they continue kissing and Laura’s right hand remains tucked in the thin red fabric, her other one unties the back of Bradley’s top. The material drops to the grass, and Laura dips down to take a taut nipple into her mouth.

Bradley cranes her head back and lifts a leg, hooking it around Laura’s waist. That spreads her open enough for Laura to insert two fingers. She drives into her lover over and over again all while sucking her breast. Bradley’s hands tangle in dark hair as she feels a familiar coil deep in her belly.

“Don’t stop.”

She hikes Bradley’s leg higher and keeps hold of it. She returns to her mouth, slipping a tongue inside and beginning to feel Bradley’s inner walls clenching around her fingers. Within seconds, her breathing becomes shallow and Bradley cums against her girlfriend’s hand hard. It almost hurts.

“Well then…” Laura steps back, extracting her hand from Bradley’s bikini, then popping her fingers into her mouth. “That was unexpected.”

Bradley reaches for her. “I’m having a little trouble standing.”

Laura places a hand on her forearm, helping her remain upright. “You ok?”

She brushes blonde hair out of her face, then leans forward to kiss her. “That was hot, babe.”

“It was.” She grins. “You’re hot…but I can’t have you tempting me like this in the future.”

“I wasn’t tempting you—not intentionally at least.” Now that her knees aren’t as wobbly, she picks up her bikini top, takes Laura’s hand and leads her back to the blanket near the maple tree.

“Wearing a bikini will always tempt me,” Laura states. “So, while we have guests, maybe you could refrain.”

“But I want a tan,” she pouts. “How am I supposed to achieve that without wearing this?”

Laura taps her lips as if seriously contemplating the question. “Warn me, then.”

Bradley gives her a look.

“Write a note, saying you’re sunbathing and leave it in our bedroom,” she says. “I’ll always check there first.”

“Really?” Bradley asks incredulously and picks up the blanket, handing it to Laura.

“I’m serious.” She folds the blanket. “And I’m going to need you to put your top back on.”

Bradley hikes one eyebrow. “Or what?”

“Or I’m going to punish you,” Laura states with a piercing glare.

That’s something they’ve never tried—reward and punishment in the bedroom. Bradley files the notion away for a later date. “You’re a horny old lady.” She grabs the Hydro Flask and the book she’d been reading.

Laura tugs her closer. “I resent that.” Then kisses her deeply. “Especially after what I just did to you.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Bradley replies, returning the kiss with equal fervor. “What was that you were saying about our large bed inside?”

She hands her the bikini top, and Laura helps tie it around her neck. Once it’s covering Bradley’s perfect breasts, Laura pulls her woman towards the house.

Bradley is quick to return the favor in the luxury of their king-sized bed, only instead of using her fingers, she uses her mouth. Laura props her back up with pillows against the headboard and watches her woman eat her out, both savoring every second of togetherness.

Chapter Text

Alex spends most of the afternoon distracting herself with work. She talks to Lizzy for a while, then calls her therapist for a final check-in before coming face to face with Maggie. She’s on the precipice of a conversation she’s been dreading for 20 plus years; no going back now even though it’s going to be one of the most awkward moments of her life.

She texts Maggie just before 4 o’clock, asking if she’d be willing to meet at the guest house. While Alex awaits her reply, she walks to the serene pond Bradley had shown her when she first arrived in Montana.

Alex finds it peaceful here. She can’t imagine living on a ranch for an extended period of time but having a retreat away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan is nice— she imagines Laura keeps the ranch for much the same reason she has her cabin in Maine. No one would believe Alex if she told them she’d chopped wood, built fires and enjoyed snowshoeing alone; that’s not the Alex Levy the world sees on camera every morning.

Some people view her as a lying whore who slept with Mitch Kessler while they were still married to their spouses. Others see her as a comforting face on morning television. Still others see her as a strong willed, independent woman who stood up to the network when she and Bradley announced the corruption happening right under their noses. It wasn’t until she contracted Covid when Alex began thinking of the way she wants to be remembered, and it’s not as an adulterous broadcaster. She knows she has a lot of internal stuff to work on, but she hopes her legacy is bigger than that.

She perches on a fallen pine tree and tosses a few pebbles into the water, realizing how caught up she’s been in other people’s opinions that shouldn’t really matter to her. While their judgment shouldn’t matter, sometimes it does. Alex ponders the way Maggie sees her now as opposed to 20 years ago. They were close friends—too close. Alex chose to walk away because she was afraid, and now she needs to explain herself after trying to avoid Maggie all these years.

Her phone buzzes, and she lifts it to see a text from the writer, indicating she’s ready to meet in 15 minutes. Alex sucks in one last deep breath of humid pine, then walks back to the guest house along the perimeter of the property. She wants to cut a lime and make sure there’s enough ice before Maggie’s arrival to go with the many cocktails she plans to drink over the course of the evening.

Maggie changes into a sundress and sandals, brushes her hair, and puts on a little makeup—something she’s only done twice since arriving at the ranch when she needed to be in Zoom meetings. The writer is loath to explore why she wants to look good this afternoon. Nevertheless, she makes her way to the cabin where she spent her first two weeks in Bozeman. She’s grateful to Laura and Bradley for opening their home to her. Maggie catches herself grinning when she considers this their home. She meant what she said earlier—they make a good couple and have the ingredients for a lasting relationship. She's never seen her friend so smitten and is genuinely happy Laura seems to have finally met The One.

A knock at the door startles Alex despite knowing it could come any minute. She closes her eyes, takes a steadying breath, then opens it. “Maggie, hi.”

The other woman smiles. “Hello.”

Alex steps aside. “Please, come in.”

“I brought this.” Maggie holds up a bottle of Grey Goose. “I hope your taste in alcohol hasn’t changed.”

“I’m still a vodka soda woman, though nowadays I tend to skimp on the soda.” She takes the proffered bottle, hoping her hands aren’t shaking. “I just finished slicing a lime. Drink?”

“I’d love one.” Maggie looks around the once familiar space, nerves heightened but trying to play cool. “It was generous of Laura to invite us here.”

“To be honest, I didn’t want to come.” With her back now to her guest, Alex breathes slowly as she pulls down two rocks glasses. They haven’t started talking about anything consequential yet, but she can’t seem to stop trembling. “Especially when I learned you were here.”

She shouldn’t be shocked by her statement, but Maggie wasn’t expecting such honesty this soon.

Just like with Laura, Alex wants to get the hard part out of the way quickly. “Don’t tell me you were thrilled at the prospect of sharing a space with me.”

“It wasn’t my call.” Maggie shrugs. “But I never considered leaving even if you decided to join us.”

She drops three ice cubes into each glass, then tops it with vodka, leaving room for soda water. Alex hadn’t considered Maggie wanting to be here despite her presence.

Maggie angles her head. “If you decided to come to the ranch, knowing I was here, I figured we’d finally have the opportunity to talk.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex clears her throat. She pours Schweppes into each glass, then adds a sliver of lime. “It’s been a while.”

She lets out a tight laugh. “You could say that.”

They’d run into each other at countless events over the years and had exchanged pleasantries at most of them, but everything was surface level. Not once did Alex ask how Maggie was doing and vice versa. They were cordial enough not to draw attention, and only a handful of people knew the women were once close friends. After every encounter, Alex experienced guilt and an upset stomach that lasted hours if not days. Now was her chance to never feel that way again.

Alex hands her a glass. “Where to begin?”

“Thank you.” Maggie doesn’t offer a toast; rather, she takes a long sip, appreciating the way the astringent liquid burns her throat. “Perhaps you’d like to start with an apology.”

Alex retracts her chin. “I didn’t think we’d start with you making demands.”

“It’s not a demand…” Maggie saunters into the living room, then turns and raises her shoulders. “More of a suggestion.”

Alex considers where she really wants to begin; it’s not with an apology. She senses Maggie’s defensiveness and knows she has every right to feel that way, but she was hoping for a less bitter opening.

“I was so young back then,” Alex finally says. “All I wanted was to make a good impression.”

“That’s not all you wanted.” She sits on the sofa, legs pressed together. “You also wanted to move ahead in your career.”

Alex tips the glass of Grey Goose back. “That’s not the only reason I hung out with you, Laura, Jo and Sydney.”

“No?”

“I enjoyed your friendship.” Alex lifts her shoulders. “We had fun together.”

“We did.” She brings the tumbler to her mouth. “You and I had a little too much fun for your liking, it seems.”

“I was…” Alex looks away and wraps a hand around the back of her neck, rubbing the tight muscles. “I was experimenting.”

Maggie strings her arm over the back of the cushions. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“As it turns out that wasn’t for me.” She can’t bring herself to describe their experience as gay.

“I would understand your position after once or twice, but you and I were together for a month.” Maggie’s eyes narrow. “While it’s true our dalliance began when we were either high or drunk, the first time we had sex, we were perfectly sober.”

Alex can’t look at her guest. She troubles her lower lip, thinking back to what it felt like to be physically adored by another woman. Maggie was good in bed—attentive, caring, generous. The way her lips felt against Alex’s was like a pillowy dough; she loved it—savored it.

“You came to my house for dinner that night wearing lingerie under your dress.” Maggie won’t let her off the hook. She’s waited over 20 years for answers, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get all of them. “Expensive, carefully curated lingerie.”

Alex remembers that night like it was yesterday. Maggie’s right, she’d bought matching lacy underwear from La Perla for the sole purpose of turning Maggie on before she knew they’d have sex. It was absolutely premeditated.

“We made love for 24 hours straight while hardly taking a break to eat,” Maggie boldly recalls.

Her phrasing isn’t lost on Alex—it wasn’t just sex, but she’s unwilling to acknowledge that now. She hadn’t expected her to go through the play-by-play of their intimate moments; it makes her terribly uncomfortable. Alex’s leg begins to bounce as she takes a long sip of vodka. “I don’t need the reminder.”

“I don’t care if you need it.” Maggie’s tone is compelling. “If we’re going to clear the air, everything has to be on the table.”

“I was attracted to you, alright?” Alex shouts. “It was like…” She gets to her feet. “It was like a physical extension of our friendship.”

Maggie nods. “It was.”

She places a hand on her forehead. “And then it became too much.”

“So, you decided to run away?”

“I couldn’t face you!” Alex lifts her glass in the air, ice cubes clinking against the crystal and vodka nearly sloshing over the rim. “I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into. I wasn’t gay, yet I found myself in very gay situations.”

Maggie crosses her legs. “I could say the same about myself.”

“Then why’d we…” She stumbles, crinkling forehead. “Why’d we do those things?”

“We were close,” Maggie tries with a lift of one shoulder. “We hung out with four lesbian friends all the time. We saw Jo and Sydney kiss countless times. Laura was with other women, too.”

Alex acknowledges there’s some truth to that—they were often surrounded by gay women. Perhaps that did influence her decision to see what it felt like to be intimate with Maggie, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse, at least in her mind, to have a lesbian affair.

“I’m straight,” Alex blurts out. “Always have been.”

She lowers her head. For years Maggie figured if they ever talked about the past, Alex would mention her sexuality, so this comes as no surprise. “Why do you think that’s important to add?”

She rattles her head. “Because I’m not gay!”

“Defining your sexuality has nothing to do with what we did.” Maggie gets to her feet. “While I’ve never felt the need to define who I am, I was married to a man for 16 years. Most of that time I loved him very much.”

Alex bows her head, remembering the reason Bradley told her Maggie came to the ranch in the first place—her divorce.

“What I experienced with you was…” She steps close enough for Alex to smell her once familiar Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium perfume. “I’ve never felt that connected to someone.”

Alex steps back—she can’t be this close. “At the time I felt the same, but that’s not who I was.”

“But you were,” Maggie replies. “It was what we were to each other that summer.”

Alex stares at her for a beat, then turns towards the kitchen unable to face the woman she’d been intimate with once upon a time.

Maggie tips the glass back, guzzling the last of her drink. “Until you can acknowledge that, we can’t move on.”

Alex drops two ice cubes into her glass, then refills it to the rim with only vodka this time. “Help yourself.”

Maggie breezes past her, shoulders touching for a mere second. Alex feels like she’s been shocked by 10,000 volts of electricity. Maggie’s swift movement causes the air to waft into Alex’s nose again, and the scent provokes an image of them under the Egyptian cotton bedsheets when Alex discovered her lover’s erogenous zone to the right of her belly button.

Alex closes her eyes, trying to steady herself for a few seconds before moving back into the living room. “What is it you want me to acknowledge?”

Maggie opens the freezer, then places three ice cubes into her glass before spinning around. “That what we had was special.”

“Fine, I admit it.” Alex hopes her response will bring the conversation to an end.

“I’ll take your answer under duress.” She pours the Grey Goose into the etched glass, then tops it with soda water. “Though it’s not even remotely genuine.”

She spreads her arms, this time vodka sloshes onto the floor. “What do you want from me, Maggie?” 

“A hell of a lot more than a phony admission that what we had was special,” she replies with measured calmness. “I also want an apology.”

“I’m sorry, ok?” Alex’s chest heaves in and out. “I’m sorry I led you on. I’m sorry I didn’t explain why I walked away. I’m sorry for all of it.”

She pins Alex with a stare. “If that’s all you’re offering, this conversation is over.”

“I don’t know what to say!” Sweat begins to prickle the back of Alex’s neck. She can’t hold Maggie’s gaze, so she swings the front door open, standing in the space in hopes that the gentle afternoon breeze provides some relief. She pulls in a few breaths of cool air.

“I’ve already told you what I want to hear,” Maggie offers in a steady voice. “But you seem unwilling to meet me halfway.”

“I can’t do this…” Alex turns to face her, cheeks reddening. “I’m not drunk enough.”

She lifts a well-manicured eyebrow. “You need to be drunk to be honest?”

“In this case, yes…” She takes a huge sip. “Yes, I do.”

Maggie stares at her for a moment, considering her options. If she walks away, it’s likely they’ll never finish this conversation—ever. That’s not what she wants. She wants Alex to own her part in their past. She wants her to apologize for walking away without explanation. Maggie wants her to be contrite and mean it.

“Fine.” Maggie moves past her, glass in hand, and sits in one of the Adirondack chairs on the porch. “Let’s get drunk.”

Alex looks at her as if she had three heads. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?” she asks. “If that’s what it takes for you to tell me what was going on in your brain back then, I’m willing to oblige.”

“Huh,” comes out as an audacious half-laugh. “Wow, that’s…” Alex sniffs. “I didn’t expect you to be so accommodating.”

She brings the glass to her mouth. “I brought pot, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to smoke in Laura’s home.”

Alex’s brows raise. “You have pot?”

She smirks. “Medicinal marijuana.”

Alex sits in the other chair and can’t help grinning. “We smoked a fuck ton of weed back then.”

“We did.” She takes another sip. “Laura ended up in giggling fits if she took more than three hits.”

“I remember.” Alex smiles. “She was fun when she was high.”

Maggie twists her neck. “She was fun when she wasn’t high, too.”

“True.” Alex brushes her hair off her forehead, remembering how easy it was to laugh with Laura. She’d always been a fantastic conversationalist; that hasn’t changed. “I talked to her earlier, you know. I think we’re good.”

“I’m glad.” Maggie’s smile doesn’t quite reach her cheeks. Considering how things are going between them, she’s not convinced Alex’s apology to Laura was sincere.

Alex takes another gulp of straight vodka. “Everything seemed so simple back then.”

“We were just starting out in our careers,” she responds. “None of us were household names at that point, well, except Laura of course. Life was easy or at least easier back then.”

Alex shuts her eyes and leans her head back until it falls against the chair. She’s beginning to feel dizzy—the alcohol is working, but she’ll need a lot more than two drinks to make her sing like a canary.

“What are you doing?” Laura enters their bedroom, carrying a hamper filled with folded laundry to find Bradley peeking through the blinds.

Bradley spins around, placing her finger over her lips as the universal sign to be quiet. “They’re outside!”

Laura creases her forehead as she approaches the window. “Who?”

“Alex and Maggie,” Bradley whispers as if they could hear.

“Honey, you can’t do this.” She sets the hamper on the floor, then pulls her woman away from the window. “They deserve privacy.”

“If they wanted privacy, they’d be inside,” Bradley argues.

Laura gives her a look.

“Aren’t you curious what they’re saying?”

She releases Bradley’s hand in the middle of the room. “Of course I am, but I’m not going to spy.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s an invasion of their personal space,” Laura states the obvious. “What would Alex and Maggie think if they knew you were watching them?”

Bradley’s lips quirk to the side as she glances away.

“Exactly.” Laura picks up her hand again, kissing the back of it. “Let them be, honey. Meantime, let’s start dinner.”

“For the two of us or all four?”

“I have no idea.” She leaves the laundry in the bedroom, knowing she’ll have to put it away later, and makes her way to the kitchen. “I’ll make a simple salad and pasta so we can save leftovers if neither of them joins us.”

“Can I make pesto sauce?” Bradley had learned how to make two simple sauces since joining Laura on the ranch—marinara and pesto. She was immediately drawn to the green sauce because she could experiment with different types of nuts.

“If that’s what you want, go for it.” Laura kisses the crown of her head. “Open some wine first?”

“Definitely.”

As Alex nurses her third cocktail, she squeezes a sliver of lime into the drink, then stirs it with her index finger. She pops the finger into her mouth and closes her eyes, feeling her head whirling in the most liberating way. They’ve spent the last half hour reminiscing—something Alex never thought she and Maggie would do until they cleared the air—but their more intense conversation continues to be on hold until Alex feels she can bring it up again without bordering on a panic attack.

Maggie’s third drink is mostly soda water with a splash of vodka and lime. Unlike Alex, she doesn’t want to be drunk for the continuation of their talk. She wants to remember every word her once-lover utters if she ever says them.

Because the guest house sits on the western part of the property, it gets the evening sun more than the main house. Maggie glances over at Alex, who is sitting in an Adirondack chair with her eyes closed. The light breeze catches wisps of Alex’s hair occasionally, and Maggie thinks she looks like an angel. Her eyes trail across Alex’s soft cheeks to the distinguished curve of her jaw. She notices smile lines on the corners of Alex’s mouth for the first time and is struck by how well she’s aged. Maggie hasn’t had the opportunity to stare at this woman in such an intimate way since the late ‘90s, but her observation is as potent as it was back then: Alex Levy is stunningly gorgeous.

“Why are you staring at me?” Alex asks, eyes still shut.

Maggie grins. “How do you know I’m staring?”

She opens her eyes, then twists her neck to look at the other woman, head still resting against the back of the chair. “Call it a hunch.”

Maggie brings the tumbler to her mouth. “I was looking at you—something I haven’t done in years.”

“You’ve seen me multiple times over the years.” Alex lifts her head to take a drink. “Still the same me.”

Maggie swirls the cocktail. “I was thinking how well you’ve aged.”

She lets out a skeptical laugh.

“I mean it,” Maggie offers. “Other than the fine lines one would need a microscope to discover, you still look like you’re in your 20s.”

“Thank you, I guess.” Alex wrinkles her face, unsure if she’s trying to flatter her or if she’s being genuine. She gets to her feet, taking the glass with her and sipping it as she moves towards the row of purple hydrangeas. “Why’d you write all that stuff about me in your book?”

Maggie knew there was no getting around talking about the harsh things she said about Alex in her book. “Because it was the truth.”

“So?” Alex glances at her. “There are lots of things I know to be true, but I don’t say them on-air, and I certainly don’t print them if they’ll adversely affect someone I care about.”

“Are you saying you care about me?” she asks.

“I did once,” Alex replies sharply. “Admit it—you wrote those things to hurt me.”

Maggie looks away.

She moves closer to the porch, sun only shining on half her body. “Are you going to deny it?”

“It's not that simple…” Maggie meets her eyes. “I discovered things about Mitch and the network executives who covered up atrocious scandals over the years. When I started writing, I knew that was my angle, but I had no idea you’d be involved.”

“You hadn’t heard the rumors?” Alex knew 99 percent of people in the business had heard rumors about her affair with Mitch.

“I did, but I didn’t believe them,” she admits. “So, I spent a lot of time uncovering your role in Mitch’s life. I made sure to get my facts right all the way to your traveling to that five-star Chilean resort.”

“How wise of you,” Alex cracks, hand on her hip. “Did it ever occur to you that writing about my affair—my consensual affair I might add—could’ve ruined my career?” Her breath becomes shallow. “That it could’ve ruined my life?” She pauses. “Did it?”

“While uncovering the truth will always be vital to my storytelling…” Maggie clenches her jaw. “Getting back at you for walking away all those years ago played a small part in my moving ahead with the story.”

“How could you?” Alex shouts. “We were friends! Friends don’t backstab each other like that!”

Maggie knows this will sting, but she can’t stop herself. “You mean the way you backstabbed Laura when you gossiped to the folks at Your Day America who ultimately fired her for being gay?”

Alex blinks a few times, reflecting on her statement, then storms inside to refill her drink. How dare Maggie turn the tables on her. This wasn’t about Laura—she’d made peace with her not that it was any of Maggie’s business. This conversation was about how Maggie threw her under the bus for personal profit.

She tops her glass off with Grey Goose, then returns to the porch still seething. “You don’t get to throw that in my face, Maggie. Just yesterday I apologized to Laura.”

“Which was 20 years overdue, but I suppose there’s no statute of limitations on apologies.” She takes the last sip of her cocktail. “After all, I’m waiting for one as well.”

Alex lets out an exasperated breath. “I’m not going to allow you to derail the conversation!”

Maggie stands, holding the now empty glass in her right hand. “What do you want me to say?”

“I’m not the only one who needs to apologize,” Alex yells. “You hurt me.”

“And you hurt me.”

“So, what?” She holds her shoulders up. “Now we’re even?”

“I suppose we are.”

“Ha!” Alex rolls her neck and laughs. “That’s what this is all about? I walked away from you, and you retaliated by publishing the story about me and Mitch for all the world to read?”

“Fine.” Maggie spreads her arms. “I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. We’ve both done things to upset each other.”

“Mine was when I was young and stupid.” She shakes her head, starting to get choked up. “Yours was vindictive and mean spirited.”

“It was.” Maggie bites hard on her back teeth. “I should have checked with you before publishing my book.”

She juts her chin back. “Ya think?”

Maggie steps closer. “I apologize.”

“For not checking in with me or for publishing the book?” Her voice cracks.

“Both.” She touches Alex’s arm. “I’m sorry for both.”

Alex blinks several times, keenly aware of Maggie’s hand on her upper arm. “Next time you have the opportunity to promote your book, I want you to say that.”

She lowers her eyes.

“I want you to remind the audience my affair with Mitch was consensual,” Alex continues. “Will you do that?”

She meets Alex’s penetrating stare. “Yes.”

Alex nods, then places a hand on the doorframe, closing her eyes suddenly feeling dizzy. “My head is getting fuzzy.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Probably good for you, bad for me.” She stands straighter, then moves back into the sun taking a moment to reflect on Maggie’s apology. Alex never thought she’d get this titan of a woman to say she was sorry, and now that she’s the recipient of said apology, she feels a little bit of weight lifted. “The breeze is nice.”

“It is.” Maggie is glad the conversation about her book is over at least for now—she knew that would be a sticking point and had always been ready to apologize.

“Remember when we went to Lilith Fair?” Alex begins out of the blue, leaving the harder discussion behind them. “We drove to Mansfield to see Natalie Merchant, Lisa Loeb and the Indigo Girls all on the same stage.”

Maggie’s lips tic up. “There was also Tracy Chapman, Sarah McLachlan and a host of other female performers.”

“Mmm,” she makes a little sound of agreement. “That’s what this breeze reminds me of—soft, warm, yet somehow cooling.”

It’s not lost on Maggie that was the last time they’d hooked up before Alex disappeared.

Alex steps further into the sun, shuts her eyes and cranes her neck, feeling the splendid warmth prickle her skin. “I was becoming too attached to you,” she offers. “Emotionally, physically…I knew if we’d kept doing what we were doing, I’d get lost.”

Maggie’s heart sinks upon hearing those words. “Lost how?”

She lowers her head and opens her eyes, then spins around to look at the woman who’s now seated in the Adirondack chair. “I was falling in love with you, Maggie.” Alex’s heart pounds in her chest at saying those words aloud for the first time.

Maggie’s eyes widen as she grips the glass with one hand and the arm of the chair with the other. Her mouth suddenly becomes dry, and she almost has to ask Alex to repeat her statement for fear of having misheard the words she’d been longing to hear for 20 years.

“But I knew it wouldn’t last,” Alex finishes. “I wanted the American dream—a husband, children, a dog and maybe a cat named Whiskers…A summer house in Montauk, and a multimillion-dollar flat in Manhattan. I’ve always been a traditional woman; what we had didn’t fit the mold.”

Maggie glances away. As difficult as it is to hear Alex’s words, she asked for the truth—she’d been seeking it for two decades.

“Instead of talking to you about it, I got scared.” Alex moves under the shade of the porch. “That was my MO back then—running away. I did it to you and I did it to Laura.” She picks up her glass and takes a sip. “I’m not proud of the way I handled things.”

“You should’ve given me a chance to share my feelings,” Maggie says, finally looking at the other woman. “We were good friends, Alex—you owed me that much.”

“I should’ve,” she admits with a shrug. “Everyday for like six months after Lilith Fair, I thought about calling…” Alex bows her head. “I never did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Alex glances up, meeting Maggie’s eyes. “It’s the biggest regret of my life.”

Her head juts back.

“I might be tipsy, but I mean it, Maggie.” She walks towards her, crouching down until they’re at eye level and taking Maggie’s hand. “I’m sorry for walking out on you.”

She squeezes Alex’s hand. “You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”

“I should’ve said it 20 years ago,” she sighs. “My pride tends to get in the way of being altruistic.”

Maggie grins. “It does.”

Alex stands but doesn’t release her hand, which causes Maggie to stand as well. “I know our friendship probably won’t return to the way it was, but I’m hopeful we can get to a place of trust again.”

She plucks the glass out of Alex’s right hand, setting it on the arm of the chair, then takes both hands. “I’d like that very much.”

Alex pulls her into a deep embrace, burying her head in the crook of Maggie’s neck and sucking in her sweet scent. She didn’t realize how incredible it would feel to be in Maggie’s arms again.

Maggie slams her eyes shut as she hugs Alex. The younger woman’s body is warm from standing in the sun and she doesn’t want to let go. She’d always hoped to be on the other end of Alex’s apology, but she never realized how badly she needed it.

“Promise you’ll always talk to me if things get weird,” Maggie requests.

Alex pulls back, arms still around her waist. “Promise.” She doesn’t examine what Maggie means by things getting weird, but Alex intends to keep her promise. “Ugh,” she lets out a strangled sound as she releases Maggie and dabs her eyes with the back of her hand. “That went much better with a little vodka in my system.”

Maggie picks up the tumbler she’d set aside. “I hope you remember it an hour from now.”

“I’m tipsy, not drunk,” Alex comments. “But I might have room for one more.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Maggie says. “Laura mentioned making dinner for the four of us. I’d hate to arrive already sloshed.”

Alex clears her throat. “She didn’t mention it to me.”

She takes her empty glass to the kitchen. “Well, she said the four of us, so I’m sure it was an oversight.”

Alex follows, setting her glass in the sink. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hold off on a fourth cocktail. “I’ll wait for an official invitation.”

“I’m sure one will be forthcoming.” Maggie makes her way to the still open door. “I suppose I’ll see you soon.”

She nods. “You will.”

After Maggie departs, Alex closes the door and leans hard against it, letting out a long breath. It had been easier to tell Jason she wanted a divorce. It had been easier to divulge information about the corrupt executives at UBA on live television. It had been easier to birth a child than to tell Maggie Brener she was at fault for leaving her 20 years ago without explanation.

Head spinning from three vodka cocktails, Alex moves to her bedroom and crawls into the queen-sized bed fully clothed. This has been an emotionally draining day, and she just wants to sleep it off until morning.

Chapter Text

Maggie enters the main house and hears Natalie Merchant blasting from the speakers. She remembers Laura always having music on while prepping a meal and her lips tic up upon hearing Wonder while smelling roasted garlic and tomatoes. She stops before entering the kitchen and watches the couple cooking. To be fair, Laura is tending to the pasta and Bradley is sitting on a stool at the counter and, from the looks of it, telling a story. Laura laughs at something the other woman says as she brings a glass of red wine to her lips.

In the time she’s known Laura, Maggie has observed her with several girlfriends. While in many ways Laura would be the ideal partner, she also doesn’t suffer fools. She’s broken up with women for not being able to hold intellectual conversations. This thing with Bradley is something to behold. Laura has finally met her match, yet Bradley unabashedly keeps her on her toes. The blonde is a firecracker—not something Laura has been attracted to in the past; however, she beams when Bradley challenges her or says something witty. Maggie can only hope for a relationship like theirs.

Laura peeks around the corner. “I see you lurking over there.”

“I was doing no such thing.” Maggie enters the kitchen. “Just admiring the way you two converse.”

Bradley has been sitting on pins and needles, waiting to hear the outcome of Maggie and Alex’s discussion. “How’d it go with Alex?”

She lets out a long breath. “We’ve made progress.”

Bradley lifts her eyebrows, expecting more.

“She apologized for walking away without warning.” Maggie sees two empty glasses on the counter and assumes one is for her. She pushes it forward as Bradley reaches for the bottle of Zin. “It was about as sincere as Alex Levy can get.”

Bradley pours the wine into her glass. “I’m not sure that’s saying much.”

“An apology from Alex is like a total eclipse of the sun,” Laura offers as she dumps the noodles into a colander in the sink. “They don’t happen very often.”

Maggie chuckles. “I’m glad you’re here to verify.”

“It is.” She places the pot back on the stove and fans the steam away. “Two in one day is unheard of.”

“Really?” Bradley enquires.

The women nod simultaneously. “Yes.”

“I know Alex can be self-absorbed, but I’d expect her to own her past,” Bradley says.

Maggie gives Laura a look.

Bradley’s eyes shift from one woman to the other. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

She points at each of them. “Y’all just exchanged a weird look.”

Maggie sips the wine. “Nothing gets past this one.”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I think she missed her calling as an investigative journalist.” Laura empties the homemade pesto that Bradley just made into the pot. “It’s just…Alex has always been out for number one. I won’t speak for Maggie, but I take her apology with a grain of salt.”

“Feel free to speak for me,” Maggie replies. “My experience has been the same.”

“Maybe she’s turning a new leaf,” Bradley tries. “I’d like to believe that’s true.”

Maggie sniffs the wine. “Only time will tell.”

“Is she joining us for dinner?” she asks.

“Alex said she wasn’t invited—at least not directly,” Maggie replies.

Laura rolls her eyes. “I guess that’s the first thing I’ll have to address—the invitation to dine with us is understood unless I say otherwise.”

“Except for Saturday nights. Those are date nights,” Bradley interjects. “I have no intention of changing that.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Maggie responds. “I don’t expect to dine with you nightly. I’m happy to make my own meals—nothing fancy. A salad and maybe a slice of French bread is all I need.”

“Bradley and I have discussed this—you and Alex are our guests.” Laura turns away from the stove and places both hands on the counter. “We might not have formal dinners every evening, but we hope you’ll join us for happy hour and a meal whenever the mood strikes.”

Bradley’s chin dimples at Laura’s phrasing—she’s never been a part of an ‘us’ or ‘our’ and she’s finally considering the ranch their home.

“Thank you.” Maggie swirls the wine in her glass. “I don’t want to infringe on your privacy.”

“You aren’t.” Bradley covers her hand. “It really is our pleasure having you here. I know Laura has been excited to reconnect with both of you. I just don’t want to get in the way.”

“You have been a breath of fresh air.” Maggie places her other hand over Bradley’s, forming a stack. “I’ll admit, I never expected to like you as much as I do.”

A laugh emanates from Laura’s belly, while Bradley’s face crinkles.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” she asks in a pronounced Southern accent.

“You should.” Maggie grins. “I love getting to know you, Bradley. I can’t wait to learn more.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Bradley releases her hands and lifts her glass. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

“Well,” Laura begins, coming around to Bradley’s back and placing her arms on either side of her woman’s body. “I don’t want you knowing more about Brad than I do, but I suppose a general knowledge would be fine.”

Bradley chuckles and turns her head to kiss Laura.

“In any other circumstance, I’d say your displays of affection are nauseating,” Maggie begins. “But astonishingly, they’re not.”

Both women chuckle.

“Should I text Alex to join us?” Bradley asks.

“Why not?”

The co-anchor never responds to her text or phone call. They assume Alex has decided to call it a night, and none of the three women fault her for it.

The next morning, Alex and Bradley do the show, and it’s better than the day before. The tech team has a few pieces of advice, but hair & makeup are pleased with the duo. It isn’t until after the post-show analysis when Bradley mentions their plans for the evening.

“Good show,” Alex says, strapping her bag over a shoulder.

“Good show.” Bradley tucks her laptop under an arm, then turns to her. “Laura has been smoking sausage on her grilling apparatus overnight. She’d make fun of me for not knowing the name of that fucking thing.” She glances to the side. “We’d love if you joined us.”

Alex nudges a strand of hair off her shoulder. “Her grilling apparatus?”

“It’s some kind of smoking thing that takes like 24 hours until the food is done.” Bradley leans against the door jamb. “I called it a low boil once and she looked at me like I was nuts.”

“I’ve been to a South Carolina low boil,” Alex proudly announces. “And it has nothing to do with meat—all seafood.”

“Well, whatever it’s called, I’m sure the food will be good even though I feel like all we eat is smoked meat,” Bradley states. “We’d love to have you over tonight.”

Alex laughs. “Who can say no to smoked meat?”

“Good.” Bradley grins. “Come over around four.”

While Laura tends to the meat on the Traeger, Maggie makes another herbed focaccia and Bradley starts working on the potato salad. Alex asked to borrow Laura’s car to go into town for something, but hasn’t arrived yet.

“I am not a fan of cracking boiled eggs.” Bradley makes a mess out of the first three, scraping off more egg white than necessary while trying to extract them from their casing. “The shells keep poking my thumb.”

Maggie chuckles. “Which is why I rarely cook them.”

“I do love potato salad, but I much prefer when Laura makes it.”

Laura breezes in through the French doors, metal tongs in hand. “Did I hear my name?”

“I was just saying how much I love your potato salad,” Bradley replies.

“I’m sure there’s some truth to that…” Laura kisses her cheek on the way to the sink. “But I think you love when I peel the eggs.”

Bradley gives Maggie a look.

“The music is awfully loud.” Laura rinses the tongs as Brandi Carlile belts out a tune.

“I love this song,” her woman comments as the chorus of You & Me on the Rock blares through the speakers. “I love all her songs.”

Laura lowers the volume using the app on her phone. “I love her too, but maybe just a few decibels lower.”

“Hello?” Alex calls from the side door that leads into the garage. “A little help, please.”

Laura walks over, taking a case of wine. “What’s all this?”

“I refuse to show up empty handed.” Alex sets two bags on the kitchen counter. “I bought four whites, two roses, and six reds.”

Bradley washes her hands, then walks towards her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I insist.” She opens one of the bags. “These are pastries for tomorrow morning from that cute little bakery on Main Street.” She hands them to Bradley. “I bought a lemon Bundt cake with cream cheese frosting for dessert and two pints of ice cream for whenever the mood strikes.”

“What flavors?” Maggie enquires as she sprinkles flakey salt on the dough.

Alex sticks the containers in the freezer. “Mint chocolate chip and vanilla.”

Maggie smirks. “You remembered.”

“Oh, thank God I got that right,” she breathes out.

“Seriously, you didn’t have to buy all this,” Laura states, carefully removing the cake from a bag. “You’re our guest.” While it’s true Alex certainly didn’t need to buy anything, Laura acknowledges her old friend is trying to start off their newfound friendship on the right foot.

“The smoker is off, and the meat is resting,” Laura pauses. “Why does that sound so vile?”

Alex lets out a singular laugh. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Laura joins in her amusement. “As soon as you’re done with the potato salad and homemade bread, we can enjoy cocktails on the patio.”

Bradley returns to her task. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

Laura peeks into the bowl. “You’ve peeled three eggs in 15 minutes?”

“I’d be faster, but the shells keep pricking my thumbs.” She shows Laura her reddened finger. “Look.”

“Oh, honey…You’re really hoping for me to bail you out, aren’t you?” Laura holds her hand, bringing the sore thumb to her lips and kissing it. “Why don’t you work on smashing the potatoes? I’ve got this.”

Bradley blinks up at her girlfriend. “You sure?”

She kisses her thumb once more for good measure. “Positive.”

Alex tosses her head back. “Ugh, why are you so hideously cute?”

Both women laugh and Maggie chuckles right along with them.

After two pitchers of margaritas for happy hour followed by dinner and three bottles of wine, the women are feeling good. Laura lights the fire pit and joins Bradley on the outdoor sofa while Maggie and Alex sit in the armchairs on either side of the wicker coffee table.

“Earlier, Alex and I were talking about the time we went to Lilith Fair,” Maggie says around a sip of Tempranillo.

“Which time?” Laura asks. Although she’d been to the Mansfield concert with Maggie and Alex, she’d attended two other concerts over the years with Maggie and a few other friends.

“The one in Mansfield,” Alex chimes in. “That was the last time Maggie and I…” she trails off and stares wide-eyed at Bradley as if suddenly realizing her co-anchor might not know the details of their sordid affair.

“It’s ok,” Maggie says. “It goes without saying everything we say here stays between us.” She turns to Bradley. “Am I right?”

“Absolutely.” Bradley nods. “I would never betray your confidence.”

Laura laces her fingers through Bradley’s.

“Laura and I aren’t exactly out as a couple.” She tucks her hair behind an ear. “So, I’ve got as much at stake as you do.”

“I never thought about that,” Alex responds. “Have you considered coming out?” She quickly straightens. “Wait…I didn’t mean…” Alex closes her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “I was instrumental in outing Laura in the late 90s. I’ll regret that for as long as I live.” She reaches towards Laura who extends a hand. “If you want your relationship to remain private, I fully respect that. I won’t utter a word to anyone.” She squeezes Laura’s hand. “I swear.”

Laura’s lips venture up. “I believe you.”

“I do, too,” Bradley replies.

“Thank you.” Alex gets a little teary eyed at the level of trust her co-anchor and her lover are granting her. She turns to Maggie. “Do you mind if I share stuff about us?”

She makes a sweeping gesture. “Not at all.”

Alex takes the final sip of red wine, setting her glass on the edge of the fire pit. “I’m guessing someone either told you or you’ve figured it out, Bradley, but Maggie and I were…we were intimate a long time ago.”

Bradley leans forward, tipping the half-full bottle over Alex’s glass. “No one told me, but I figured it out.”

Alex juts her head back. “How?”

“As any good reporter would do, I pieced things together.” She tops off the other three glasses. “Maggie, you did yourself no favors at Laura’s dinner party back in March.”

Maggie looks surprised. “What?”

“You kept asking questions about Alex,” she mentions. “I chalked it up to curiosity, but something was gnawing at my gut—like I knew you weren’t telling me the whole story.”

Laura squeezes her woman’s hand, silently indicating she’s proud of her investigative skills.

“And Alex…” Bradley continues. “Anytime I brought up Maggie’s name, I swear the hair on the back of your neck stood up.”

She laughs. “Was I that transparent?”

“You were,” Bradley chuckles. “I figured something had happened between y’all, but Laura wouldn’t share the details.”

“I didn’t have to.” Laura shrugs. “I knew you were wise enough to figure it out.”

Bradley issues a proud grin, then returns to the topic at hand. “Anyway, what were you going to say about Lilith Fair?”

“For over 20 years, I’ve owed this woman an apology.” Alex swirls the red wine in her glass and stares at Maggie. “We were close friends; intimate friends. It was too much for me at the time, and I walked away without explanation.”

“Did you finally apologize?” Bradley asks even though she knows Alex did.

“Yesterday.” She takes a sip. “For the first time ever, I offered what I hope was a sincere apology.”

“I took it as such,” Maggie responds. “Don’t make me regret trusting you again.”

Alex holds her gaze for several seconds. “I won’t.”

Bradley senses the intense moment and wants to lighten the mood. “That’s sweet and all, but I’m dying to know what happened at Lilith Fair.”

Laura has been impressed by if not smitten with Bradley since meeting her in Iowa, but never has she been more pleased by her woman’s timing.

“Right, the concert.” Maggie sips wine.

They talk about the lineup that night, and all four women reminisce about the power of female vocalists in the late 90s. They each choose their favorite song, and Laura cues them up to blast through the speakers on the patio.

The evening ends with a hiccupping Alex, and Maggie standing up and swaying. Laura has always been able to hold her liquor and Bradley is a close second. They hug Alex good night in the foyer, and then the couple retreats to their bedroom.

Maggie remains behind. “Shall I walk you to your quarters?”

“What is this, the 1800s?” Alex laughs.

Maggie crooks her arm so Alex can string her hand through it. “If it was, I think things would be far simpler.”

“I don’t know about that.” She shakes the hair over her shoulders. “I had fun tonight.”

She beams at her. “So did I.”

Alex stumbles along the stone pathway and Maggie steadies her. “It felt like old times before things got…complicated.”

“I’m done with complications,” the writer offers through a contemplative sigh. “I’m nearing the end of a bitter divorce; all I want is to be carefree and happy.”

Alex stops in front of the guest house. “Don’t we all?”

“You’ve surprised me these past two days,” Maggie states. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ha!” Alex throws her head back. “I don’t deserve your praise.”

Maggie smiles, remaining silent.

She sobers. “I want to hear about your husband—your divorce.”

Maggie isn’t one to glance away from whomever she’s speaking with, but when it comes to talking about her failed marriage, she can’t seem to maintain eye contact. “Some other time.”

Alex squeezes her hand. “Just say the word.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Please do.” She leans forward and hugs the illustrious writer. “Thank you for accepting my apology and thank you for a lovely evening.”

Maggie pulls back. “You’re welcome. Don’t disappoint me this time, Alex.”

As drunk as Alex is, she tries holding her gaze. “I won’t.”

“Good night."

Although they’re too sleepy to do anything more than cuddle before going to sleep that night, Bradley and Laura make love the next morning as if it’s their first time together. They share adoring glances, meaningful touches, and deep kisses all while pleasuring each other. Both women are enthralled at the love they feel after such a short period of time, but they’ve never questioned how hard and fast they fell.

Until meeting Laura, Bradley had never seriously considered marriage. Hell, she hadn’t even considered a long-term partner. No one had held her interest for very long, and the one guy who had potential cheated on her in college. But Laura is different—special. Her smile, her confidence, her piercing green eyes, her robust laughter, her wit, her intelligence…she could go on ad nauseum about the many things she loved about Laura Peterson. There were times when Bradley watched her doing one mundane task or another and her heart swelled with pride that Laura chose her.

There hadn’t been an “ah-ha” falling in love moment for Laura. It wasn’t like one day she woke up and thought, I could spend the rest of my life with Bradley; that notion had endured since day one of their relationship. She never reflected on spending a lifetime with Bradley because it was part of her very essence. Living together during the pandemic only solidified her desire to be permanently coupled, and Laura had already started thinking about how she’d ask her to make it official.

After a long, hot and somewhat sexual shower, Bradley fastens her bra. “I’m going to host a little something on Saturday night for all y’all.”

Laura spits toothpaste into the sink, then rinses her mouth. “Is ‘all y’all’ really a thing?”

“Of course, it is.” She looks at her girlfriend like she’s crazy. “I’m not divulging any details but be prepared to travel down memory lane.”

Laura offers a skeptical look. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“I’m not telling.” Bradley smirks. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Laura tilts her head. “Why would I worry?”

She kisses her. “You wouldn’t.”

Bradley has researched plans for Saturday night as if her career depended on it. She’s relegated everyone to the living room and told them if they peek, they’ll be disqualified. There were some questions about ‘disqualification’ but Bradley rolled her eyes and proceeded with the plan.

She enters the living room and claps. “Ok, are y’all ready?”

“We’ve drunk a pitcher of Palomas,” Alex responds irritably. “So, yes, I’d say we’re beyond ready.”

Bradley opens the French door leading to the patio. “Right this way.”

Laura trails behind and pats her woman’s ass. “This better be good.”

She threads their fingers together. “It will be.”

Alex glances around the patio. “Am I supposed to sense something, or…?”

“Keep walking.” Bradley turns the corner towards the garden, and there’s a white sheet strung between maple trees with two plaid blankets on the ground.

“What is this?” Maggie asks.

“You’re about to find out.” Bradley gestures to the blue-plaid blanket. “This one is for y’all. The red one is for me and Laura.”

“I suppose it’s big enough to share,” Alex notes as she takes a seat.

Maggie sits next to her. “Are we watching a movie?”

“Something like that.” Bradley drags an ice chest over. “I’ve got beer, wine, and a specialty cocktail in here.” She grabs two lawn stakes. “If you shove these into the ground, you can use them as drink holders so they won’t spill.”

Laura glances at the makeshift screen. “Is that one of our 800 thread count Turkish cotton sheets?”

“I found it buried in the upstairs linen closet.” Truth be told, Bradley never paid attention to which sheet she grabbed and figures even if it is expensive, it’ll be worth it in the end. “The other night when we had dinner, it got me thinking about the memories y’all shared,” Bradley begins as she moves to the projector. “And now that you’re rekindling your friendship, I wanted to plan something nostalgic. I hope you like it.”

She flips the projector on until the shot of a concert venue appears on the makeshift screen. The camera pans across the outdoor amphitheater as a guitar starts strumming in the background. Bradley raises the volume, then takes a seat next to her partner.

“Is this…?” Laura trails off with raised brows.

On the screen in chunky cursive letters reads Lilith Fair 1997.

Maggie and Alex gasp, and Laura’s smile widens as the familiar beginning of Dido’s Thank You blasts through the speaker.

Laura wraps an arm around Bradley’s waist, tugging her closer and whispering in her ear. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“It took forever to find a video of the whole concert at Mansfield that year, but a researcher at UBA helped me get my hands on it.”

Laura places her fingers on her woman’s cheek, creating light pressure until Bradley twists around to look at her. “I love you so much, honey. I really do.”

Bradley kisses her. “Love you, too.”

“Is this really the concert?” Alex asks with eyes glued to the screen.

“Sure is.”

Alex turns to Bradley. “How…I…I’m speechless.”

“I wanted to do something special,” she beams. “And this time, nobody’s walking away without explanation.”

Alex turns to Maggie. “She’s right—I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’d better not be.” Maggie’s grin turns into a full-fledged smile. She grabs Alex’s hand. “Ever again.”

Alex pulls her into a hug, and whispers, “Never again.”

Throughout the show, the women sing, dance, and sip Bradley’s signature drink. She’d looked up the most popular cocktails in the late 90s and saw it was either cosmos or appletinis and decided to make a pitcher of the overly sweet apple drink for old time’s sake.

When 32 Flavors by Ani DiFranco comes on, they switch partners—Alex dances with Laura and Bradley with Maggie. After that, they switch again to a Tracy Chapman song.

Two hours later, they’re barefoot and getting a little hoarse after singing nearly every song. The show closes with Sarah McLachlan’s Sweet Surrender.

Bradley saunters over to Laura, stringing her arms around her neck. “Dance with me, babe.”

Laura’s arms curl around her body, palms flat against Bradley’s back. “I’d love to.”

Maggie and Alex don’t share an intimate dance like the other women, but they do hold hands a few times and glance at each other when they think the other isn’t looking. Bradley suspects there’s sexual tension between them, but she’s not going to force anything. She will, however, mention it to Laura tomorrow to see if they can give Alex and Maggie some time alone.

The screen goes black, and Bradley peels away from Laura to turn off the projector. “I hope y’all enjoyed that.”

“Are you kidding?” Alex smiles. “It was spectacular!”

“It was,” Maggie agrees. “Thank you.”

Bradley shrugs. “My pleasure.”

“We can pick all this up in the morning.” Laura tucks a hand in Bradley’s back pocket. “I’m ready for bed.”

“I haven’t danced that much in ages,” Maggie comments, grabbing her glass and the sweater she’d long since shed. “No doubt I’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“You and me both,” Alex replies.

The women walk to the main house, and Alex parts ways with them before going inside. They all hug, thanking Bradley again. Alex walks around the exterior of the home to the guest house, and Maggie ventures upstairs. Laura drags her woman to the master bath, where they both strip down and shower.

“I was so sweaty.” Bradley steps under the spray. “This feels good.”

Laura steps in behind her, wrapping her arms low around her waist and kissing her neck. “How does this feel?”

She tilts her head to the side, giving Laura room to kiss her slightly sunburned skin. “Even better.”

Laura has always loved touching Bradley’s wet skin. She skims her hands up Bradley’s torso to her full breasts where she spends a significant time massaging them. Despite her age, Laura wonders if she could get off simply by touching her lover. She might not need reciprocation when Bradley moans the way she does. Laura never has to question what makes her woman feel good—it’s written all over her face and displayed in her vocal range.

She places her hand on the back of Bradley’s thigh, lifting it until her foot lands on the marble bench in the shower. Laura dips her fingers into Bradley’s folds, appreciating the wetness she finds there.

“So slick,” she whispers, pulling Bradley’s earlobe into her mouth. “Wet.”

She moans and starts gyrating her hips. “I love the way you touch me.”

Laura’s other hand massages Bradley’s breast. She pinches her nipple, then soothes it with her palm. She inserts one finger into her woman’s opening and is rewarded with a higher pitched moan. She knows Bradley can get off like this, but she much prefers when Laura goes down on her. To be fair, Laura prefers using her mouth rather than her fingers or at least a combination of the two. She sits on the marble bench, tugging Bradley’s hips until her center is directly in front of Laura’s mouth. She leans forward, taking one long lick, and Bradley’s head rolls back. Laura places both hands on Bradley’s ass and goes to town on her pussy. The blonde bucks into her mouth, hands tangling in dark, wet hair.

When her orgasm is imminent, she presses Laura’s head hard against her and cums into her mouth. “Fuck, yes…Laura…” She doesn’t stop eating her pussy until the orgasm runs its course, and then Laura gets to her feet, smirking.

“You taste like apples,” Laura says before kissing her.

She returns the kiss, roping her arms around Laura’s neck. “Must be from the appletinis.”

“Must be.” She kisses the tip of Bradley’s nose. “Thank you for putting on our very own Lilith Fair concert tonight.”

She squirts shampoo into Laura’s hand, then into her own. “I think everyone had fun.”

“They did.” She massages her scalp. “You have a knack for making people feel special.”

Bradley’s chin dimples. She’d never considered herself a people-pleaser, but Laura’s confidence in her makes her blush. “You really think so?”

“I do.” Laura rinses the shampoo out. “It’s a gift.”

“You’re a gift.” Bradley smiles, then kisses her.

Laura chuckles.

They talk a little more about their evening while getting clean, then dry off and hit the mattress hard. Within five minutes, Bradley’s snoring and Laura’s heart is full.

End Act II

Chapter Text

By early August, the women have settled into a routine. Bradley and Alex host TMS weekday mornings, Maggie begins writing her memoir, and Laura hosts UBA 365 twice a week and conducts several interviews throughout the pandemic. They have cocktails almost every evening, but dinners are more sporadic. Maggie often finds herself at the guest house, cooking with (mostly for) Alex so Bradley and Laura have time alone. More than Alex, Maggie has been sensitive about sharing space with the relatively new couple and doesn’t want to be a nuisance despite Laura’s protests she’s their guest.

In her spare time, Bradley’s becoming quite skilled at making flies, and she fishes with Landon in a new stream or lake once or twice a week. She’s offered to take the three women out with her, but only Alex acquiesced once. She got tangled in the line, stuck herself with a hook, and gotten, in her words, eaten alive by mosquitos. She warned Maggie and Laura not to get sucked into “Bradley’s little trap.” Laura laughed at Alex’s dramatization of her day on the lake, but she agreed fly fishing wasn’t her thing.

One Saturday morning while Maggie is having breakfast with Alex at the guest house, Bradley and Laura decide to do some housekeeping. Bradley cleans the bathrooms while Laura tackles the kitchen. They take turns vacuuming rooms and dusting, then they do laundry, piling the clean clothes onto their king-sized bed.

Bradley sits on the bed, one leg tucked under the other, and folds Laura’s t-shirt she’s now claimed as her own. “Do you miss having a housekeeper?”

“Of course.” Laura stands next to her and grabs a thick, white towel. “But I’m not willing to have anyone over during the pandemic even if they wear a mask.”

“Oh, I get it.” She places the shirt on the side. “Did you grow up with a maid?”

“I did.” Laura stacks three towels on the bed. “She was more like Alice on The Brady Bunch—Gertie cooked, cleaned and took care of me for much of my childhood.”

“Where were your parents?”

Laura doesn’t talk much about her family, but she wants to let Bradley in. Only Dr. Burke knows the intricacies of her childhood, but Bradley should know; after all, she’s become the most important person in Laura’s life. Although she was a bit more guarded when they first started dating, Laura doesn’t consider hiding anything from Bradley anymore.

“Working,” she replies. “My dad worked on Wall Street and my mom was a corporate attorney.”

From the little information Laura has shared, Bradley knows she grew up in a wealthy household and attended fancy private schools her whole life. She also knows Laura had a strained relationship with her parents. One afternoon in early May, they’d sat in the living room in front of the massive window that overlooked the expanse of the yard and watched a thunderstorm roll in. As the power flickered, Laura revealed her parents’ reaction to her coming out when she was at Your Day America. Bradley had sat there, mostly silent, listening to the story about Laura’s proud, liberal parents who refused to accept their daughter’s sexuality. She’d felt sorry for Laura back then and wondered if she’d made amends with her family since then.

Bradley folds a tank top. “Were they were gone a lot?”

“They worked 50 to 60 hours a week,” she explains. “Even when we went on vacation, they paid very little attention to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Bradley’s heart sinks as she thinks about a young, impressionable Laura Peterson growing up with parents who didn’t seem to care. Her own parents were similar in that vain, but their upbringings were worlds apart.

“Don’t be.” She looks up, issuing a tight-lipped smile. “My parents bought me the best therapy a child could hope for.”

“Just what every kid wants,” Bradley chuckles. “Therapy.”

She chuckles along with her.

Bradley folds a pair of shorts and poses a question she’d been meaning to ask since moving to the ranch, “You ever thought about having kids?”

She pauses, curious to hear where Bradley’s question takes them. “I did when I was younger, but I was too concerned about fucking them up.”

“You’d be a great mom,” Bradley offers.

She gives her woman a look.

“I’m serious.” Bradley hops off the bed, grabs a stack of clothes and brings them to the dresser. “You’re patient, understanding, generous and level headed. You never raise your voice or get bent out of shape. You’re a natural nurturer.”

No one had ever framed their opinion of Laura in relation to motherhood. “Thank you for thinking those things.”

“I don’t just think them.” She places the clothes in the drawer, then stands in front of Laura. “They’re unequivocal truths.”

Laura stops folding a pair of jeans midway when it dawns on her she’s never asked the same question to Bradley. “Do you see yourself as a mother?”

“I got an abortion when I was 15,” she chuckles. “So, no, I never thought about having kids…Until I met you.”

Laura straightens.

“I’m not saying I want them; I’m just saying I’ve thought about…” Bradley pauses, lifting a shoulder. “Parenting with you.”

She sets the Levi’s on the bed. “You have?”

Bradley nods. “Yeah.”

Laura turns to face her more fully. “Then maybe we should have a serious discussion.”

“Well, I’d want to get married first.”

Laura takes her hand, caressing the back of it. There’d been a few times when they alluded to the future, but the word marriage had never been mentioned. It excites Laura to no end to think of Bradley as her wife.

“Is that something you’d want?” Bradley raises her shoulder again, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. “To marry me?”

“Are you asking for future reference?” Laura chuckles.

“What if I wasn’t?” she begins. “Asking for future reference, I mean.”

Laura twists her head slightly while keeping her eyes focused on Bradley. “What are you saying?”

“I think I’m asking if you want to get married.” Bradley swallows hard, then her lips tic up. “Maybe I should make this a little more formal.”

“Bradley,” comes out as a surprised breath through her expanding smile.

“I don’t have a ring or anything,” she begins, lifting Laura’s other hand. “And I’m not getting down on one knee, but if it hasn’t been obvious, I’m deeply in love with you, Laura. Every morning when I wake up at the ass crack of dawn, I smile because you’re next to me. I get excited at the end of the show because I know you’re upstairs. Sometimes when you look at me…” She lets out a quiet breath. “I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. I never thought I was marriage material, but then you came along…” Bradley squeezes her hands. “And now I want to spend every waking moment with you. I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else.”

Tears prickle Laura’s eyes.

Bradley glances at her feet, then back up at her. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I want to be your wife, babe. I want to consider having a family with you; I want to grow old together.” Upon seeing the tears hanging in Laura’s eyes, Bradley starts to feel the familiar sting in her own. “So, Laura Peterson, will you marry me?”

Laura throws her arms around her woman, hugging her with every ounce of strength she can muster. She pulls back, hands landing on Bradley’s cheeks and kisses her. “Yes.” She kisses her again. “Yes.” And again. “Yes.”

Their next kiss is far more romantic, and Bradley’s heart swells. While she’d been thinking about proposing, she never quite landed on the perfect scenario. She’d thought about making Laura dinner or asking for her hand when they were admiring the sunset, but she never thought she’d pop the question while folding laundry.

“I always thought I’d be the one to propose,” Laura chuckles when she pulls back to wipe the tears rolling down her face. “You beat me to it.”

“I didn’t mean to steal your thunder,” Bradley replies. “You can still ask if you want.”

“Maybe I will.” She kisses her again. “When you least expect it.”

Bradley wraps her arm around Laura’s waist, hooking them behind her back. “Keeping me on my toes?”

She smiles. “You’re the one who constantly keeps me on my toes.”

“I am a firecracker—you’ve said it yourself,” she says through a light laugh.

Laura caresses her cheek. “You’re my firecracker.”

Bradley’s smile is so wide it could break her face. “We’re getting married?”

Laura’s smile matches it. “It seems so.”

They hug again.

“You know I’m gonna need a ring,” Bradley deadpans.

“I figured as much,” she responds with an exaggerated eye roll. “I don’t need one, but if you want me to wear one, I’ll gladly oblige.”

Bradley kisses her. “Maybe we can look online, and then make an appointment with a jeweler in town.”

“I’d love that,” Laura beams.

“Should we tell Alex and Maggie?”

“Definitely.”

They make their way hand-in-hand through the living room and foyer, then proceed down the path to the guest house. Both women’s smiles are so big they might look like caricatures to anyone passing by.

“What if they’re…?” Bradley asks.

Laura side-eyes her. “They aren’t.”

“You don’t know that,” she responds. “I’m still sensing some sexual tension there.”

Laura stops before landing on the porch. She hadn’t considered Maggie and Alex rekindling their romantic relationship. “Should we have called first?”

Bradley shrugs. “We’re already here.” Then knocks on the door.

Several seconds later, Alex peeks her head through the side window. “Who is it?”

“It’s us,” Bradley calls, then mumbles to herself, who else would it be?

She unlocks the door, then opens it and runs a hand through her tousled hair. “Hi.”

It’s clear Alex is flustered, and Bradley swears her lips are swollen.

Maggie appears from one of the back rooms. “Good morning.” She looks more put together than Alex, but there’s a suspicious grin across her face. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit?”

“We have something to tell y’all.” Bradley is practically bouncing. “We’re engaged!” Saying it aloud feels like a dream—she never thought she’d utter those words in her lifetime and is bursting with pride.

Laura smiles and squeezes her woman’s hand.

Both women looked shocked, but Maggie is the first to recover. “Congratulations!” She pulls Bradley in for a hug.

“Wow, that’s…” Alex shakes her head. “Congratulations!” She embraces Laura.

“I’m just surprised it took so long,” Maggie offers.

“So long?” Bradley creases her forehead. “But we’ve only been a couple for a few months.”

“While that may be, I could sense your connection immediately.”

Bradley’s chin dents with delight as she squeezes her lover’s hand.

Alex proceeds to the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Who asked whom for her hand?”

“She asked me,” Laura replies, beaming down at her fiancée.

She pops open a bottle of Prosecco. “Is there a ring?”

“I haven’t gotten one yet,” Bradley says. “I wasn’t sure if Laura would want a traditional engagement ring or something a bit more understated.”

Laura makes sweet eyes at her. “I’d wear anything you gave me.”

Bradley cranes her neck for a kiss.

Maggie moves into the kitchen and pulls down the Champagne flutes. “Bradley has a valid point.” She holds one out for Alex to fill. “You are particular about your jewelry.”

Laura takes the first glass from Maggie, handing it to Bradley. “I’ll admit a massive diamond isn’t exactly my style, but I’d be honored to wear any ring on my left hand to show the world I’m yours.”

Bradley smiles at her. She’s positively giddy about being Laura Peterson’s fiancée.

“I’d like to propose a toast.” Alex fills the other three flutes, then raises hers. “To one of the most authentic couples I’ve ever met. You two have shown me what love is supposed to feel like. Congratulations!”

“Here here.” Maggie clinks her glass against the others.

After a sip, Laura dips down to kiss her woman. “Cheers, honey.”

“Cheers.” Bradley kisses her again.

Alex sets her glass down, then claps once. “We have a wedding to plan!”

The four women drink Prosecco in the living room and talk about the wedding. Both Laura and Bradley agree they’d like to get married in the early fall and would prefer a small ceremony at the ranch.

“Now that you’re about to be a married woman, have you thought about when you’re going to come out?” Alex asks.

“I’ve had a couple conversations with Cybil,” Laura notes. “The network wants to make it a splashy story, but that’s not what we’d prefer.” She and Bradley had discussed how and when they wanted to announce their relationship, but they never settled on anything. Now that they’re engaged, they’ll need to regroup and come up with a plan.

Bradley nods. “I have to tell my family first.”

Alex raises her brows. “They don’t know about you and Laura?”

“No,” she sighs. “We aren’t exactly close. I talk to my brother a couple times a month, but it’s more like twice a year with my mom. She only calls when she needs something.”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Alex reaches out, touching Bradley’s arm. “That must be tough.”

“I’ve lived with it my whole life.” Bradley shrugs. “Their opinion of me matters less than the general public.”

“This isn’t something you should take lightly,” Maggie says. “Much of the fanfare will be positive when you announce your relationship, but a lot of it will be negative. You’ll want to work with your public relations team and the network to create a plan for handling the reaction from people who don’t see eye to eye with your decision.”

“I started seeing a therapist a couple months ago,” Bradley offers. “I have her on speed dial.”

Maggie smiles. “Good.”

Laura turns to her. “We will need to talk to the network.”

“I know.” Bradley nods. “That can happen on Monday. For now, I just want to celebrate becoming Mrs. Peterson.”

Laura’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Will you take her name?” Alex asks around a sip.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Bradley replies. “We just got engaged less than an hour ago.”

“I’d like you to,” Laura says. “If not professionally, then personally.”

Bradley brings the glass to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve established yourself on the national stage as Bradley Jackson.” Laura raises her shoulders. “If that’s the name you’d prefer to stick with on television, I’d have no problem, but I’d love it if you adopted Peterson as your legal last name.”

“Bradley Peterson?” She tries aloud with a grin. “I really like the way that sounds.”

“So do I.” She leans down for a kiss.

“Ugh, God…You’re going to kill me with the cuteness overload.” Alex gets to her feet. “I have another bottle if you’d like more Prosecco.”

“We should go.” Laura stands, offering a hand to Bradley. “We were in the middle of putting laundry away when she popped the question. Now it’s waiting for us on the bed.”

Maggie smiles. “That’s when you proposed?”

“Yeah.” Bradley links their fingers together and stands. “I’d been thinking about taking Laura permanently off the market for a while but making some grand gesture didn’t feel right. So, I asked her in the middle of a conversation while putting our clothes away.”

Laura kisses the crown of her head. “It couldn’t have been more perfect.”

Bradley drains her glass, then tugs her towards the door. “I hope we weren’t interrupting anything.”

“No, not at all.” Alex scratches her chin. “We were just…” She clears her throat. “We were just finishing up breakfast.”

Bradley glances around to see no trace of pots, pans, plates or silverware. It doesn’t even smell like bacon, cinnamon rolls or any kind of food for that matter. "Alright. Maybe we’ll see y’all later.”

“Sounds good.” Maggie walks them to the door. “Enjoy your post-engagement bliss.”

Laura smiles. “We will.”

They walk back to the main house hand in hand.

“Did you see any signs of breakfast?” Bradley enquires. “Cause I sure didn’t.”

“They could’ve had cereal for all we know,” Laura replies. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“You had to have noticed Alex’s tousled hair and swollen lips.” She stops short. “And Maggie coming down the hallway from the bedroom, tugging her blouse.”

She starts walking again. “Bradley, honey, you have to stop prying.”

“That’s not prying—it’s observing.”

Laura gives her a look. “You literally spied on them from the bedroom last month.”

“You’re right—that was spying.” She shrugs. “Now I’m just stating what I’ve witnessed as any good reporter would do.”

Laura laughs as she opens the front door, patting her woman on the ass. “You’re incorrigible.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic,” she responds. “And I’d like to see my two friends take another stab at being a couple.”

Laura finds her antics adorable, but she doesn’t want Bradley to overstep. “Tread carefully, honey.”

“I will.” She walks through the living room and grabs her iPad. “I think we should look at rings.”

Laura cups her cheek, then presses her lips to Bradley’s. “Isn’t there something else you might be interested in doing first?”

“Like what?” Sex hadn’t entered Bradley’s mind after proposing, but with Laura’s insinuation, she decides to flirt. “Making breakfast?” Bradley kisses her. “Putting away the rest of the laundry?” She kisses her again. “Opening another bottle of Prosecco?”

Laura grins against her mouth as one hand roams from Bradley’s breasts to her center. “Perhaps I should be clearer.”

“Oh, you want to have sex?” Bradley jokes as if she hadn’t realized what was on Laura’s mind. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

With one quick movement, Laura picks her up and Bradley squeals. She’s never done this before, but it’s the kind of gesture Laura deems appropriate after saying yes to her woman’s proposal.

“I’m not as light as I might appear,” Bradley says through laughter.

Laura pecks her lips. “I’m stronger than I might appear.”

“No, you appear strong, babe.” She runs a hand down Laura’s toned biceps—they’ve always turned her on. “I love these arms.”

She kicks the bedroom door open. “Any other parts of me you love?”

“I’d rather show you.” Bradley extends her neck for a kiss.

Laura slowly lowers her to their bed, then crawls on top of her.

She glances at the stack of t-shirts and two perfectly folded towels. “What about the clean clothes?”

Laura swipes her arm across the bed, and the laundry falls gracelessly to the floor. “What clothes?”

She laughs as she pulls her shirt over her head, then starts working on the clasp on her bra.

Laura has already taken off her joggers and underwear, then reaches for Bradley’s left breast. “When can I start referring to you as my fiancée?”

“Immediately.” She yanks Laura’s shirt over her head and kisses her. “I want the whole world to know I’m about to become Mrs. Laura Peterson.”

That’s all it takes to turn Laura on, but she isn’t the first to go down on her woman. Bradley beats her to it and uses her mouth to get her fiancée off. She knows just how Laura likes it—long, slow licks followed by tight circles around her clit. She likes one finger inside her and rarely will ask for a second. Bradley wants to fill her, so she doesn’t explicitly ask for permission before teasing Laura’s opening with a second digit, but she does stop kissing her to check her reaction. Laura nods, then resumes kissing her.

Even at her age, she can still have a mind-blowing orgasm, but she’s never cum as long and hard as she does with anyone the way she does with Bradley between her legs. Just the sight of her blonde head bobbing up and down is enough to make Laura moan with pleasure.

“You’re going to make me cum, Bradley,” she pants. “Right there…Mmm…”

The orgasm shoots through her, and her hips rise off the mattress so forcefully Bradley can’t hold them down with her forearm, but she’s not going to stop licking her until the orgasm subsides.

“Wow,” Laura says through heavy breathing. “Come up here, fiancée.”

Bradley smiles at the term. “I want you to call me that all the time.” She kisses her chin, then her cheek, then her mouth.

“Done.” Laura holds her close, rubbing her back and remains silent for a moment. “Hey, you mentioned wanting a ring.”

“It can just be a wedding band,” Bradley replies. “I don’t need some 5-carat engagement ring.”

She lets out a light laugh. “Good thing then, because I can’t imagine what a 5-carat diamond ring would cost.”

“Are you saying you don’t have that kind of cash lying around?” Bradley jokes as she twists her neck to look at her fiancée.

“Not lying around, no.” Laura kisses her bare shoulder. “But if it’s something you really want but are worried about asking; tell me, I’ll make it happen.”

Bradley’s fingertips rest on her lover’s distinguished jawline. “That’s not what I want.”

“Then how about something different but still special?” Laura crawls out of bed.

“Where are you going?” She props herself up on her elbows and chuckles.

“To get this.” Laura opens her jewelry box in the armoire and pulls out a gold ring with a square black stone. She walks back to the bed and perches on the edge. “This was my Grandma Ethel’s ring. She bought it in Dresden when she was 21.” She holds the ring between her thumb and index fingers. “I was fascinated by it when I was a kid. When we had tea parties, she’d let me wear it on my thumb even though it was still too big.” Her lips quirk up.

Bradley rubs Laura’s arm. “Were you close to her?”

She nods. “She was the only relative I enjoyed being around when I was growing up,” Laura says. “She died 18 years ago and left me this ring. She also wrote a letter, describing how precious it was.”

Bradley eyes her fiancée, but Laura’s attention is focused on the ring as if she’s picturing it on her grandmother’s finger.

“When I was little, I had no idea what it was worth—I just thought it looked cool with the black orb in the center,” she continues. “Apparently, the most desired variety of black onyx showcases a singular rich black hue with no banding, which is exceptionally rare.” She rubs the smooth surface. “Some people used it for mourning since it’s so dark, but it’s supposed to suppress negative energy. It’s also used as a charm for self-protection, which is kind of ironic because of when she died and what I was going through at the time.” Laura issues a nostalgic smile.

“It’s beautiful.”

“She also said a person wearing black onyx is thought to be edgy and dark with a strong personality.” She glances at Bradley. “I suppose that description is as apropos about me just as it was for her when she was alive.”

“Were you two similar?” she asks.

“Very.” Laura offers. “I had it appraised a few years ago when I drew up my will; I was surprised at what it’s worth.”

Bradley doesn’t focus on the fact that Laura has a will—she’ll reflect on that later. “Well, you did say it’s exceptionally rare.”

“It is.” She extends the ring. “And I want you to wear it.”

“What?” comes out more as a breath than a word.

“I’m not giving it to you, though I’ll amend my will to do just that after I pass,” she begins. “I’m asking you to wear it as a sort of engagement ring…To show the world you’re mine.”

Bradley glances at her sideways. “But we’re on the ranch—the only people who will see it are Alex and Maggie.”

“And all of America when they tune in to The Morning Show,” Laura offers.

“I guess I never really thought about that.” She looks at the exquisite ring again. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She slips it onto Bradley’s left finger, surprised it fits as well as it does. “Nothing would make me happier than to see you wearing my most cherished piece of jewelry.”

Bradley stares at her hand, then at her lover. “I…It’s stunning. Thank you.” She kisses her.

“You’re welcome.” Laura returns the kiss. “Looks good on you.”

She’s positively glowing. “I won’t take it off until you replace it with a wedding band.”

Laura kisses her woman again. “Good.” She climbs back into bed, snuggling against her fiancée who continues to stare fondly at the black orb.

“Before you proposed, we were talking about children.”

“Hmm?” Bradley’s daydreaming comes to an end. “Oh, right…We don’t have to discuss it now.”

“I do want to discuss it…” Laura kisses her. “If you want to have a baby, I’m open to it.”

Bradley lifts her head. “Really?”

“Really.” She brushes blonde hair away from Bradley’s face. “I’m a little old to carry a child, but you’re still young.” Laura’s worried that might be presumptuous, so she backtracks. “Or we can talk about adopting if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but…” She sits up, holding Laura’s hand in her lap. “I think I’d like to be pregnant.”

Bradley hadn’t thought about having a baby often, but for the past few weeks, the notion hadn’t left her mind. In fact, she did some online research about ways lesbians can have children. “But I want to carry your fertilized eggs…Is that getting too technical while we’re naked in bed?”

“No,” she laughs lightly, caressing the inside of her woman’s wrist. “I mean, yes, it’s technical, but I know what you mean. I have a few friends who went through IVF successfully.”

“Really?”

Laura nods.

“Maybe we could talk to them,” she replies. “Obviously, we’ll meet with our doctors first, but it would be nice to connect with a couple who’s gone through this.”

Laura rolls over, tossing one leg over Bradley’s. “So, now we’re not only getting married, but we might have a baby?”

She runs her fingers though long, black hair. “Is that too much to process in the span of two hours?”

“I’ll admit, it’s a lot.” She kisses Bradley’s arm. “But it’s not too much—not when you’re on the other end of all of it. Is it too much for you?”

Bradley shakes her head. “Nothing would make me happier than being your wife and raising a child with you.”

Laura lets out a hearty laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

She cradles her face, leaning in for a kiss. “Believe it.”

“Just when I think I couldn’t possibly love you any more…” Laura trails off, changing the angle of her face for a more proper kiss. “Let me show you.”

She reciprocates the sexual activity Bradley offered moments earlier and is rewarded with high pitched moans and tanned thighs squeezing her head. Despite it being before noon, they blissfully drift off to sleep, naked and on top of the covers.

Chapter Text

The very next day, Bradley calls both her parents and tells them about her relationship with Laura. Neither is particularly pleased with her choice, but she doesn’t let it bring her down for more than a few minutes. As soon as Laura hugs her, she knows she’s made the right decision. Her conversation with Hal is much more celebratory. He wishes he could join them for the wedding ceremony, but they’re not taking any chances during the pandemic by inviting guests.

Throughout the week, Bradley and Laura speak with their public relations teams as well as the network about how they’d like to come out. Cory expresses interest in a huge ordeal, but Bradley wants none of it. She thanks God for the level headedness of Cybil and Stella who agree it should be at the end of one of the TMS broadcasts. The compromise is UBA would get an exclusive interview with the couple after they tie the knot. Bradley is fine with it, but she and Laura will determine who conducts the interview; they’re leaning towards Alex.

Over the next several weeks, it’s pretty much business as usual with the added stress that goes with planning a wedding. However, since theirs will be an intimate affair, they don’t experience the stress that most brides face.

The network had been promoting a big surprise during the weeks leading up to Labor Day, and on the Friday before the long weekend, Alex looks into the camera, saying, “I hope you’re all ready for the big reveal.” Bradley sits next to her with a nervous smile in place, and Laura is in the doorway off camera, watching.

“As you know, we’ve been broadcasting remotely since the end of March and Bradley and I have been together since mid-June.” She glances at her co-anchor. “And now we’re finally going to tell you where we’ve been—where we are,” Alex begins. “Laura Peterson has been my friend for many years. I’m sure she needs no introduction, but for those viewers who need a reminder, you might know Laura from UBA 365.”

Bradley remains sitting with a straightened back, hands clasped on the desk in front of her.

“I’ve been a guest on her ranch in Montana for the last few months, and these have been some of the best days in my life,” Alex offers. “It’s proven to be the best place to ride out the pandemic. I’ve gone on long hikes, ridden horses, enjoyed sunsets on Laura’s deck and generally enjoyed the slower pace compared to the chaos of Manhattan.” She glances at her co-anchor. “However, while my days have been spectacular, they don’t compare to Bradley’s.”

“That’s right, Alex.” She takes a deep breath, eyes moving to Laura who nods and winks. “I’ve enjoyed your company tremendously, but I’ve been at the ranch since the beginning of the pandemic, spending time with Laura in a very different way.” Bradley swallows hard with one more glance at her woman. “I’m thrilled to share with y’all—I’m engaged to Laura Peterson.”

Alex places her hand atop Bradley’s and smiles.

“We didn’t want to make a big thing out of it, because who we love isn’t part of the show,” Bradley continues. “Both Alex and I value our privacy, but I thought it was time to let America know I’m in a committed relationship and deeply in love.”

Laura is glowing from her spot at the edge of the room.

“I know this is going to land well for some of you and not so well for others,” she says. “We can do a better job on our show and in life in general of promoting healthy relationships, whether that’s two women, two men or a man and a woman. My commitment to you, our viewers, is to hold love on a pedestal and talk more about how couples make it work,” she continues. “For now, thank you for the love and support you’ve given me over the past two years. And thank you for watching.”

The cameras stop, and Bradley finally exhales. “How was it?”

“Spectacular,” Alex replies.

“That was great,” Gayle chimes in online.

Chip, Mia and a few others agree.

“Is Laura there?” Cybil appears on screen. “Bring her over.”

Bradley makes a motion with her hand, and Laura comes over, kissing and then hugging her. “That was perfect, honey.” She turns to the computer. “Hi, everyone.”

“Congratulations again, Laura,” Cybil states. “We’re happy for both of you.”

“Not as happy as I am, but you know…” She shrugs.

“There’s bound to be some negative press to come out of this,” Cybil continues. “We’re working closely with your PR teams to handle it. My advice is to stay off social media for the next couple days. The network will send you daily emails with screencaps of the positive press—focus on that.”

Laura doesn’t need pointers on how to compartmentalize work, but she knows it’s good for Bradley to hear.

Bradley nods. “Ok.”

They continue meeting for the next 30 minutes, and then Laura exits so Alex and Bradley can do their normal post-show analysis.

That night, Laura asks not to watch the evening news and instead concentrate on the love they feel for one another. Bradley is easily convinced to follow her advice. They have drinks with Alex and Maggie, and then settle into bed each with a notebook in hand as they write their vows. Laura had been working on hers for weeks, but Bradley hadn’t written anything down until that evening. She knew what she wanted to say; it was just a matter of capturing the deep emotions she feels for the woman lying in bed next to her.

Bradley takes off work two days prior to the wedding and a full week afterwards. As she sits on the sofa, putting the final touches on her vows, Laura comes through the front door holding a package. The last time this happened three days ago, the contents were a surprise.

***

“I got the mail.” Laura walked over to her, holding up a cream-colored envelope. “And this was in it.”

Bradley quickly turned her notepad over so her fiancée couldn’t see what she’d been writing. First, she noticed the exquisite handwriting on the front of the envelope, then she saw the return address. “S. Moreau,” she said aloud. “Is this from Simone?”

Laura nodded.

A twitch of possessiveness crept into Bradley’s brain. “Have you stayed in touch?”

“No.” Laura ripped it open and pulled out a card with Congratulations on Your Nuptials embossed on the front. She opened it silently, holding it far enough away for Bradley to be able to read it, too.

Dear Laura,

Congratulations on your engagement. I’ve spent the past few days, thinking about you and while I felt a twinge of jealousy when I heard you and Bradley were engaged, it finally dawned on me—you wouldn’t have left me for some meaningless affair. You said it yourself—we were good together; just not good enough to make it last. I harbor no ill will towards you and Bradley. In fact, I celebrate your commitment. I’m still searching for the right person, but I’m confident she’ll come along at a time when I least expect it. I can only hope to have the kind of love and devotion you share with Bradley. Wishing you all the best…

Simone

“That was thoughtful,” Bradley said.

“She’s always been thoughtful.” Laura closed the card. “Leaving her wasn’t easy.”

Bradley placed a hand on her thigh. “I know.”

“She’s right—I wouldn’t have left for just anyone.” Laura kissed her fiancée’s forehead. “Only you.”

Bradley smiled and repeated, “I know that, too.”

***

Laura flips a package over in her hands and pauses in the foyer. “Look what just arrived.”

Bradley twists her neck to see what her fiancée is holding, then sets her teacup on the coffee table and rushes over. “Is that our rings?”

They’d looked at more than 100 rings online and even masked-up to go to the only jewelry shop in Bozeman, but nothing suited the couple. Laura contacted a woman who’d made a pendant, necklace and bracelet for her years ago to see if she might be interested in designing custom wedding bands, and lo and behold, Bradley fell in love with one of her designs.

“The return address says Erika Doyle, so I’m guessing that’s what’s inside.” Laura rips the envelope open, revealing two small boxes each marked with their first names. “We’re still going with the whole not seeing the inscription thing?”

“We already know what the rings look like.” Bradley takes the box with Laura’s name. “Let’s leave something up to surprise.”

Laura takes the box into the living room far enough away so Bradley can’t see, then lifts out the band. “It’s even more beautiful in person.” She silently reads the inscription and smiles.

Bradley does the same in the foyer. She holds the ring against her heart and sighs. “It is.”

“The ring or what you asked Erika to engrave?”

“Both.” She stares at it a few seconds longer, then places it back in the box. “I’m hiding this in my lingerie drawer. Do not peek. Promise?”

“I want it to be a surprise just as much as you do.” Laura follows her into the bedroom, then tucks her ring into the nightstand on her side of the bed. She grins upon seeing their vibrator. “If we use this thing between now and Saturday, let me be the one to grab it.”

Bradley snorts. “Fair enough.”

She kisses her woman before taking her hand and walking back to the living room just as their guest is coming downstairs.

“Good morning,” Maggie greets them.

“Our rings were just delivered,” Bradley gushes.

She stops in front of the sofa. “As your newly ordained wedding officiant, I think I should preview the goods.”

“Nope.” Bradley picks up her abandoned peppermint tea. “No one sees them until we slide them onto each other’s fingers.”

“Fine,” she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I can wait two days.”

Both Maggie and Alex had helped Bradley peruse wedding dresses online, but during the pandemic, it was difficult to try them on in person. Alex had several clothing designer friends, including Vera Wang, and the illustrious designer shipped four dresses to Montana for Bradley to try on. She fell in love with the first one she put on. She sent it in for alterations, and the perfectly fitted dress had arrived four days ago.

Laura was less fastidious about her outfit for the big day, but she’d worn gowns designed by Saint Laurent for two formal awards ceremonies over the years and decided to stick with the label for a black wedding suit coupled with a silky white blouse that featured a tulip collar.

They stuck with the tradition of not revealing their wedding attire until the ceremony, though Alex and Maggie had been privy to admiring both.

Since there would only be two guests at the wedding, Maggie decided to get the meal catered by a local restaurant Laura used to go to before they pivoted to takeout only during the pandemic. She and Alex agreed to prep and clean everything before and after the ceremony, and although she reluctantly agreed to be treated like a guest in her own home, Laura finally agreed to let her friends take care of the details.

Bradley thought if she’d ever tie the knot, she’d look more forward to the honeymoon than the wedding, but because the world continued to be on lockdown, they decided to postpone their trip until they could go to some tropical island without having to quarantine or wear masks. (Laura reminded her often of the one occasion when Bradley wore a bikini and swore to whisk her off to an island as soon as it was safe to do so.)

In lieu of a honeymoon, Maggie agreed to stay in the guest house with Alex for an entire week while the two of them celebrated post-marital bliss. (Maggie and been quick to offer the living arrangements and Alex was equally hasty in agreeing, which wasn’t lost on Bradley.) Laura appreciated the gesture, but she loved having her friends on the ranch and it had never interfered with the time she spent with Bradley.

She expected to spend quality time alone with her new bride, but Laura didn’t need an entire week without seeing her friends. Bradley was happy with whatever her wife wanted. As long as she was legally going to be named Mrs. Laura Peterson, she didn’t care about the rest.

Laura thought it was silly, but the night before their wedding, Bradley decided they should sleep in separate rooms. She took the bedroom next to Maggie while Laura stayed in the master suite. It was, Laura realized, the first time they hadn’t shared a bed since the middle of March. Several times throughout the night when she reached over and found an empty bed, Laura reflected on how much she loved sleeping next to Bradley. They often found themselves tangled in each other, and instead of it interrupting their sleep, it actually deepened it. Needless to say, Laura didn’t get a great night of sleep on the eve of their wedding.

For her part, Bradley slept just fine though she did reach for Laura multiple times. She’d exhausted herself the day before, wrapping up her vows and reviewing the details of the ceremony with Maggie and Alex.

As she lays in a bed she’s never slept in before and hopes to never be relegated to any bed that doesn’t include Laura, Bradley thinks about what this day means to her. She never thought she’d marry anyone let alone a woman, yet this is the morning she’s going to tie the knot with the love of her life. Bradley finds herself grinning to the point of silly laughter—she can’t remember a time when she was this happy. She also recognizes her privilege to walk down the aisle with Laura in the middle of a pandemic.

She hears a tap on the door. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” Bradley pauses her musings. “Come in.”

Alex enters the bedroom, coffee mug in hand. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” She rubs her eyes. “I’ve been up for an hour or so.”

Alex sits on the edge of the mattress. “Yet you’re still in bed.”

“I didn’t know the protocol for getting coffee without running into Laura.” She sits up. “Please tell me you brought that for me.”

“I did.” She hands her the cup of steaming Italian Roast. “Laura’s making breakfast, so I figured if you don’t want to see her, I’d bring your morning coffee.”

“I don’t want to see her.” Bradley takes a sip. “I mean, of course I want to, but we can’t.”

“Because everything else you’ve done has been so traditional?” Alex chuckles.

“There are a few traditions I think are worth keeping, and not seeing the bride on her wedding day is one.” She takes another sip. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Maggie texted me,” she replies. “She said before you went to sleep, you wanted to make sure you didn’t run into Laura unexpectedly, so while she’s tending to your bride, I’m on Bradley duty.”

She smiles. “Is that how this is gonna work?”

Alex nods. “I suppose it is.”

“How am I going to eat breakfast without bumping into her?” She gets out of bed wearing nothing but underwear and Laura’s Lilith Fair t-shirt.

“I’ll give you the all-clear when she’s finished, and then you can eat in the kitchen.” Alex walks over to the closet and admires the wedding dress. “It really is beautiful. Perfect for the setting.”

“I think so, too.” Bradley grins as she slips into a robe. “What are we doing today?”

“We’re switching duties in about an hour.” Alex closes the closet door. “Maggie agreed to go fly fishing with you and Landon, and I’m going to ride horses with Laura.”

Bradley smiles. “I’m going fishing?”  

“Yes, but not with me.” She sticks her hands on her hips. “I love you, but not that much.”

She giggles. “I didn’t think Maggie would go along with such a plan after what you told her about the only time you went fishing with me.”

“Well, she reluctantly agreed,” Alex offers with a hand on her hip. “But that’s neither here nor there.” Her phone buzzes. She takes it out and reads the message. “Looks like the coast is clear—you and I can head down to breakfast.”

“Good—I’m starving.” Bradley jogs down the stairs and twists around to look at their bedroom. Her lips tic up, knowing Laura is in there probably thinking about her. She slips an envelope under the door.

“Ah, I love French toast,” Alex says from the kitchen.

Laura knows it’s Bradley’s favorite breakfast indulgence and while they don’t eat it often, it’s always a treat when it’s on their menu.

Next to her plate that’s already on the table is a pink envelope with her name on it. Bradley opens it to reveal a card. The front reads, To my bride on our wedding day.

She opens it and reads:

Although I’m going to tell you how much you mean to me on this our wedding day, I wanted to put it in writing. I love you beyond comprehension, Bradley. You make my heart skip a beat even when I simply think of you. I love your wit, intelligence, care for others and determination to always get to the truth. I love the way you make me feel all the time. Sometimes I wonder if I was put on this earth for the sole purpose of loving you. If that’s the case, I consider it the greatest honor. See you at the altar, honey.

All my love, Laura

Bradley’s tears start falling after the first sentence, and by the end, she’s a choked-up mess.

“What does it say?”

She holds the card to her chest. “That’s private, but it’s no wonder why I love this woman.”

Alex squeezes her hand. “I’m happy for you.”

Bradley sniffs. “Me, too.”

They eat breakfast and talk about the details of the day, and then Bradley goes back upstairs to brush her teeth and wash her face. She’ll have to figure out how she’s going to change into her fishing gear without running into her fiancée. 

An hour earlier, Maggie helped Laura prepare breakfast. “How are you feeling about the big day?”

“More excited than nervous.” Laura beats eggs in a stainless steel bowl. “But there are a few butterflies swarming in my stomach.”

She grabs the cream from the refrigerator. “You’re marrying the right person.”

Laura glances at Maggie. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” She’s never posed such a question aloud, but she’s wondered what her friends think about her marrying Bradley after having been a couple for a little more than six months.

“It might be soon, but it feels like you’ve been together much longer.” Maggie smiles. “I remember reading a quotation that went something like this: I’ve seen two people meet for the very first time, and I knew from the minute I saw them together they were always meant to find each other by the way everything in the world seemed to dim compared to their glow,” she finishes. “When Bradley was a guest at your dinner party, I knew you were smitten.”

Laura tightens her jaw, embarrassed by how transparent her actions were when she was still with Simone.

As if sensing her discomfort, Maggie thinks better of her statement. “You didn’t do anything untoward; it was just clear from the moment I saw you together that you and Bradley had a deep connection.”

She sets the bowl on the counter. “I never cheated on Simone.”

“I’ve known you long enough to know you’d never cheat.” Maggie lifts her hand. “I’m not passing judgment,” she quickly states. “Sometimes we meet the right person at the most inopportune time. You met Bradley when you were involved with someone else—there was nothing you could do to change the circumstances.” She shrugs. “Love is love and all that.”

Laura tucks her hair behind her left ear. “I ended things with Simone as soon as I realized I was falling in love with Bradley, but I still feel a little guilty.”

“Don’t.” Maggie squeezes her arm. “You did everything right, Laura.”

She gives her the best smile she can muster.

“I didn’t mean to make this awkward,” Maggie notes. “I’m sorry…I couldn’t be happier for you and Bradley. You make a beautiful couple.”

“Thank you.” This time, Laura’s smile is genuine and more relaxed. “I agree.”

After making breakfast for all four of them but only eating with Maggie, Laura retreats to their bedroom to get ready for her horse-riding adventure with Alex. She changes into her favorite pair of jeans and a lightweight top, then lathers up with sunscreen. Just as she passes the fireplace heading towards the closet to grab her Stetson, she notices a note under the door. She picks it up and smiles when she sees Bradley’s scribbled handwriting on the front.

They hadn’t talked about giving each other wedding day cards, yet both women had ordered special stationary unbeknownst to the other.

She opens the envelope and chuckles at the front that reads, Holy Shit – we’re getting married today. Leave it to Bradley, Laura thinks, to find something so apropos. She opens the card and reads the singular sentence:

I fucking love you. Can’t wait to be your wife.

Yours, Bradley Jackson

Laura shakes her head and smiles at the simplicity of Bradley’s message when she wrote what felt like a novel in her own card; she wouldn’t have it any other way. She knows Bradley’s vows are going to be as touching as her proposal was but even if they weren’t, she knows how much her woman loves her. Laura is amazed at how far they’ve come and what they’ve had to sacrifice to get here. She’d been in love before, but it was nothing compared to this.

She gets a text message a few minutes later, advising her to meet Alex at the barn in five minutes. While she’s there, Bradley can change into her fishing gear in their bedroom so they don’t cross paths.

Maggie’s fishing trip is more successful than Alex’s was about a month ago, but the writer can’t say this will be a new hobby. Bradley and Landon enjoy themselves nonetheless. They each catch two fish, and Bradley gives them to him to take home for dinner that night.

“I got you something on your wedding day.” He loads the tacklebox into the bed of his F-150. “I hope you like it.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Landon hands her a wrapped present. “I know, I know.”

“I wish we could have you and your wife over for the ceremony,” she says as she begins ripping the white paper. “We’ll have a much bigger celebration when the pandemic is over.”

He tips his hat. “I’d gladly accept the invitation.”

Bradley pulls out a book with a picture of her on the cover. She recognizes it as the first time they met: She’s holding the rod awkwardly and standing on the shores of a stream with a wide smile. “Is this…?” She flips it open and sees page after page of photographs of her tying flies, fishing, and joking with Landon. There are more than 20 pictures of her spliced with stock photos of fly fishing apparatuses and maps of the Montana lakes and streams where they’ve fished.

“I can’t believe you did this!” She throws her arms around him. “Thank you so much!”

“I’ve loved documenting your journey as a fisherman.” He pulls back. “My wife helped me organize all the pictures and put them into this book we ordered online.”

Bradley shakes her head. “I love it.”

“I know it’s not much of a wedding gift, but…” he trails off with a shrug.

“It’s perfect.”

They bid their farewells, and Bradley gets into the Range Rover with Maggie. “He’s a great guy.”

“He sure is.” Maggie smiles. “I’m guessing it’ll be harder for you to leave this place than you ever thought it might be.”

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Bradley replies. She had no idea how much she’d enjoy living on the ranch, but it has become part of her soul.

Maggie glances at the clock on the dashboard. “Three hours until you tie the knot. How are you feeling?”

She exhales. “Nervous…excited.”

“As any bride should be.” Maggie squeezes her hand. “Let’s get some lunch, then you can start getting ready.” She’d pre-ordered four Cobb salads and freshly squeezed lemonade from The Buttered Bun, one of their go-to takeout spots for lunch in downtown Bozeman.

Before they arrive back at the ranch, Maggie texts Alex to find out what time they’ll be back from their little adventure and learns they’re enjoying a long walk and will likely return around one. That gives her and Bradley 30 minutes to eat lunch.

As the clock ticks second by second, Bradley’s nerves begin to surface, but they’re nerves of anticipation and joy—there’s not a single hesitant bone in her body about marrying the woman of her dreams.

Before taking a shower and slipping into her wedding attire, Laura glances around the decorated yard where they’d once enjoyed a Lilith Fair concert, courtesy of her fiancée. Maggie and Alex had insisted upon sprucing up the place, in Alex’s words, and bought tasteful decorations to string between the maple trees and around a small expanse of lawn. There’s a white linen sheet draped from a thick branch to form an altar and two metal box candle holders filled with purple, pink and white flowers with greenery stuffed inside.

Just to the right of the altar sits the picnic table the women had relocated from near the guest house to the backyard. There’s a place setting for the four of them with a beautiful wood-framed candle holder in the middle. Pale pink peonies with their leaves intact surround the centerpiece.

Laura touches the linen drapery and smiles, hardly able to believe this day is finally upon them even though everything happened so quickly. She cannot wait to say I do to the love of her life.

Chapter Text

At quarter to four, Alex knocks on the bedroom door. “Are you dressed?”

“Yeah.” Bradley stares at herself in the mirror, appreciating the way her dress fits without having had the benefit of trying it on in the presence of a tailor. “Come in.”

She opens the door, covering her mouth. “Oh my God…You look beautiful.”

Bradley touches her curled hair that’s draped over one shoulder. “You have no idea how much hairspray I used to get it to stay like this.”

“It’s lovely.” Alex touches her arm. “Your makeup, too—understated but discernable. That shade of lipstick is perfect for your skin tone.”

“I have gotten a little sun recently.” She glances at her reflection in the mirror again. “I’m glad I don’t have tan lines.”

“You couldn’t look any more perfect, honey,” Alex gushes, then glances at the clock on the wall. “It’s time.”

Bradley turns around, letting out a nervous breath. “Is Laura out there yet?”

“She was heading out just as I was coming upstairs.”

“How’d she look?” Bradley has no idea what Laura’s attire will be—they’ve purposely kept that under wraps. She waves a hand in the air. “Never mind, don’t tell me. I want to see for myself.”

“I’ll just say she’s a knock-out,” Alex offers. “Oh, your bouquet.”

The bouquet matches the peonies and roses in the centerpiece, and the stems are tied with a short, ivory ribbon.

“Thank you.” Bradley smells the flowers. “Ready.”

“Let me take your picture first.” She snaps three shots, then opens an arm for the bride to proceed. “Here we go.”

She and Laura went through hundreds of songs to play for the wedding march and ultimately decided on Like I’m Going to Lose You by Vitamin String Quartet . It hit all the notes they were looking for in an upbeat instrumental version of a traditionally romantic song. 

“I’m going to meet them under the maple tree.” Alex squeezes her co-anchor’s hand. “Take your time and remember to breathe.”

Bradley places a hand on her stomach, closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. She’s been waiting for this day for a long time, and it’s finally here. She wants to soak up every minute of the ceremony, including the moment before she turns the corner and sees her bride. She takes a few steps forward in heels that aren’t made for walking in the grass and thinks she should’ve considered her footwear before settling on the strappy heels. At least they look good.

As soon as Bradley comes around the corner, she takes Laura’s breath away. She’s wearing an off-white silk chiffon dress that flows just above the knees. It looks ethereal, demure and sexy all at once. Laura’s face breaks into a huge smile as she takes in the woman approaching the altar.

Bradley’s lips part upon seeing Laura in a tailored black suit with a silky white blouse underneath that looks almost like a calla lily in the way it opens around her neck. My God, she whispers. She has always found her fiancée attractive, but this is an entirely different level of beauty.

Their guests are smiling, but the couple is too engrossed in each other to notice.

When Bradley finally reaches the altar, Laura takes her hand. “Well, if it isn’t Bradley Jackson.”

“That greeting is going to expire in about 15 minutes,” she replies in her distinct Southern accent upon hearing the familiar greeting.

Laura caresses her woman’s hand. “I think it’ll work just fine with your new name.”

Bradley rolls her eyes but secretly can’t wait until Laura can say, “Well, if it isn't Bradley Peterson.”

Laura sobers, just a hint of a smile lingering. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Bradley’s eyes trail down her lithe body. “You look hot as fuck.”

“Well, I was thinking the same thing, but I suppose it’s a matter of decorum.”

Both women laugh as Maggie steps in front of them. “Welcome to your wedding ceremony. How does it feel?”

“Good…great,” Laura announces without taking her eyes off her fiancée.

“It does,” Bradley breathes out. “I want to remember this moment forever.”

“Don’t worry.” Alex points to her phone perfectly perched on a low branch. “I’m recording it.”

“I’m thrilled to be a part of your special day.” Maggie opens a folder and reads, “We are gathered together to celebrate the marriage of Bradley Jackson and Laura Peterson. Each of us has a deep desire to love and to be loved. Your marriage today is a public and legal affirmation of the bond you’ve already established. Marriage will stretch you as individuals, deepen your love for one another and bring out the best version of yourselves. Let this be a time of joy, wonder and profound love.” Maggie closes the folder and grins. “It’s my understanding you’ve written your own vows.”

“Yes.” Bradley hands her bouquet to Alex, then smiles at her fiancée. “Hi.”

Laura chuckles, taking both her hands. “Hi.”

“Wow, Laura Peterson.” Bradley smirks, hoping her bride remembers that frigid night she said those words in the parking lot of the Des Moines Hilton.

Judging by her wide smile and gentle laughter, she knows Laura recalls the night with fondness.

She caresses the back of Laura’s hand. “Loving you has been one of the easiest things I’ve ever done, and Lord knows we could all use something easy in the middle of a pandemic,” Bradley begins through a little laugh. “No one has made me feel as seen and heard as you have since the day we met. You’ve honored and respected me even when I’m at my worst. Your goodness and integrity have taught me to be true to myself and others. Your thoughtfulness and generosity have taught me to give with intention.” She pauses for a breath. “I’ve thought a lot about taking your name and what that means. It’s not just proudly showing the world I’m committed to you; it’s also shedding a part of me that’s been shaped by my family. It’s embarking on a life together—a life I cannot wait to continue with you.”

Laura’s eyes begin to well with tears.

“You are the most consistent, honest, noble person I’ve ever met, and these are my vows to you: I promise to care for you when you’re sick and celebrate with you in health. I promise to hold my dreams and to encourage you in holding yours as we build new ones together. I promise to laugh often and band together during difficult times. I promise to work to be my most authentic self every day. And I promise to love you unconditionally for as long as we both shall live.”

She squeezes Bradley’s hands and sniffs, trying to keep her tears at bay.

Alex makes a little weepy sound from her place on the side, which lightens the mood.

“That was lovely,” Maggie says before turning to her old friend. “Laura, please share your vows.”

“I’m not a crier, yet here I am barely holding on.” Laura releases one of Bradley’s hands and reaches into her pocket for a handkerchief. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Bradley says through a beautiful, patient smile. “Take your time, babe.”

She sniffs once more. “Who would’ve thought a spontaneous kiss in the back seat of a car would someday lead to this?”

Maggie and Alex appear confused, but Laura’s focus is on the glowing woman in front of her.

“Bradley, you have changed my life,” she offers through a slow and steady voice. “You’ve taught me to love with abandon and to take risks by being vulnerable. I love you not only for who you are, but also for who I am when I’m with you. Your playfulness in the light of my dark humor has taught me to expand my definition of silly. Your willingness to try new things has taught me to expand my definition of adventure.” She rubs the back of Bradley’s left hand. “You have been my constant companion through a life-altering pandemic. Not a day goes by when I don’t thank God for bringing you into my life.”

It’s Bradley’s turn to wipe her eyes.

“I promise to share my life openly with you. To cherish your uniqueness. To listen intently without judgment. To hold you gently when you’re afraid and to softly kiss you when you’re hurting. I promise to encourage your dreams and create our dreams together.” Laura reaches out to wipe a stray tear off Bradley’s cheek. “I vow to love you more and more each day though it doesn’t seem possible to love you any more than I do at this moment—my heart feels like it might burst.”

Bradley laughs through tears.

“While I might occasionally and amusingly continue referring to you as Bradley Jackson, I’m honored to welcome you as my partner, my family, Bradley Peterson. I love you, honey, so, so much.”

Bradley doesn’t wait for the you may kiss the bride part. She reaches for Laura’s face pressing her lips against the ruby red lips she’d been eyeing since stepping up to the altar. Laura chuckles through the gesture, though she has hardly been able to wait until this moment to kiss her woman after not seeing her for 24 hours.

“Those were beautiful testaments of the love you share,” Maggie announces. “It’s time to exchange rings.” She turns to Alex, who hands her the one Bradley will present to Laura. “Bradley, please repeat after me.”

“Wait,” Bradley says. “We had them inscribed, and I want Laura to read what I had engraved inside.”

“By all means,” Maggie replies with a tight nod.

Bradley hands the ring to her fiancée, and Laura silently reads the script: I’m finally home. Love, Bradley.

Laura offers a tender smile. “It’s beautiful.”

“Are we ready to continue?” Maggie asks.

Laura hands her fiancée the ring. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Bradley, please repeat after me,” Maggie begins. “With this ring, I give you my heart.”

Bradley repeats the phrase while holding it to the tip of Laura’s ring finger.

“From this day forward, you shall not walk alone.”

She repeats the sentence through a smile.

“My heart will be your shelter, and my arms will be your home for as long as we both shall live.” Bradley slips the ring on Laura’s left finger and marvels at the way it looks.

Alex hands Maggie the other ring, and without missing a beat, Laura gives it to Bradley to read the inscription that simply states: Well, if it isn’t Bradley Peterson.

“I took a page out of your book with the humor,” Laura says. “Hope it worked.”

“I love it.” Bradley grins and holds the ring to her heart. “I love you.”

“What do the inscriptions say?” Alex enquires.

“We’ll share after the ceremony,” Laura states, then takes the wedding band back from her bride.

Maggie goes through the same instructions, and at the end, Laura slips the ring onto Bradley’s finger with a huge smile.

“Although you jumped the gun on this next decree, young lady…” Maggie eyes Bradley. “It’s time for all newlywed couple’s favorite part. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Bradley’s arms glide around Laura’s waist as she cranes her neck up to kiss her wife. She sees stars when she closes her eyes and thinks about that word. Laura cradles Bradley’s cheek with one hand while the other rests on her upper arm. She kisses her woman softly once, then changes the angle to prolong it by a few seconds.

They pull back from each other, both smiling from ear to ear.

Alex claps. “How does it feel?”

“Better than I could’ve imagined,” Bradley beams.

“Congratulations,” Maggie offers.

“Thank you.” Laura kisses her wife’s forehead.

Alex rushes off to stop the video and change over to the picture mode on her phone. “Let me get some pictures.”

They pose in several positions—hugging, kissing, holding hands, smiling, serious and funny. When Alex is certain she has some good ones, she takes their picture with Maggie. Alex props the phone up to take a few more of the four of them.

“I didn’t even think about hiring a photographer,” Bradley states as she walks hand in hand over to the picnic table.

“These will come out great,” Alex promises.

Laura doesn’t want let go of her wife’s hand for the rest of the day. She’s so proud of how far they’ve come and now that they’re married, well, she’s over the moon.

“Here’s how this is going to play out,” Maggie begins. “We’re going to pop the Veuve, do a toast, and then you two are going to retreat inside while Alex and I set up dinner out here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bradley says, admiring the outdoor table she’d yet to see. “This is beautiful, by the way.”

“I’ll take all the credit,” Alex announces as she reaches into the bucket to get the chilled Champagne. “Maggie wanted to go with more purple, but I knew you’d love the pale pink and white.” She winks at her co-anchor.

“I’m sure purple irises or something would’ve been fine, but this is definitely my style.” Bradley reaches out to touch a peony. “They match my bouquet perfectly.”

“That was the idea.” Alex hands the bottle to Laura. “Why don’t you do the honors, and I’ll take pictures?”

“That means I’ll have to release my wife’s hand,” Laura half-jokes, taking the bottle. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do that just yet.”

“Say it again,” Bradley pleads, linking her arm through Laura’s.

“Releasing your hand?” She knows what word Bradley is referring to, but she enjoys teasing her.

Bradley looks up at her. “No, not that one.”

“Oh, my wife?”

Her smile could light up a small village. “I thought I liked when you referred to me as your fiancée, but this is ten times better.”

Alex snaps a picture and glances at in on the screen. This, she thinks, will be the one they blow up and frame.

Laura grins. “Only ten times better?”

“A thousand? A million?” Bradley doesn’t care if she’s looking at her bride like a lovesick fool. “Just keep saying it until I roll my eyes.”

“Careful what you wish for.” She pops the cork, watching it fly into the yard.

“Here we go…” Maggie lines up four flutes.

Laura pours the expensive bubbles into each glass.

“Since Maggie had the honors of officiating the wedding, I wanted to do my part.” Alex takes a glass. “So, I’ve prepared a toast…” She tilts her head and reconsiders. “Well, it’s more like a speech.”

Bradley and Laura exchange glances, and Maggie seems impressed.

“My relationship with Laura precedes my time knowing Maggie and it was certainly long before Bradley came along,” Alex begins, turning to her old friend. “I trusted you back then; you trusted me, and because of my insecurities, I betrayed that trust.”

Laura takes her wife’s hand and pays close attention to Alex’s words.

“I thought about you often, but I never had the balls to confront you about the past, and as you’ve come to learn recently, I regret that immensely,” Alex continues. “When Bradley entered the picture, I warned her about you—and Maggie to be fair…” Her lips twitch.

Maggie lifts her eyebrows.

Alex turns to her co-anchor. “If I’m being honest, I didn’t want you to get close to my former friends—it felt like a betrayal.” Alex glances at the other women. “But before I knew it, you were smitten with Laura, and I could not believe it. In my wildest dreams, I didn’t think you two would hit it off the way you did and I’m dying to know more about how you fell in love, particularly the part about kissing in a car.”

She pauses and the women grin. “Before I came to Montana, Bradley confronted me about why I’d never asked about her relationship with you.” She looks at Laura. I mean, I knew you were a couple—my co-worker moved cross-country to live with you for heaven’s sake. But I never asked her about it—about you.” She lowers her head, embarrassed by her self-absorption even though Alex is far more self-aware than she was even a few months ago. “Truth is, I was envious not only of what the two of you shared, but also that Bradley, the woman I sit next to five days a week, was in a loving relationship with a woman I cared deeply about 20 years ago. Like, how could that happen?”

The brides smile.

“It wasn’t until coming to the ranch when I saw with my own eyes what you mean to each other—this is what love looks like. It’s the gleam in your eye, Bradley, and your gentle smile, Laura. You anticipate each other’s needs in a way I’ve not witnessed even in my own marriage,” Alex continues. “The joy you share is palpable—it’s the kind of love everyone should aspire to give and to receive.” She shakes her head. “Funny thing is I’m not jealous anymore. How could I be jealous of something so beautiful—so right?”

Bradley wipes a tear with the back of her free hand, and Laura reaches for her handkerchief, passing it to her wife.

Alex raises her glass, and the others follow. “Here’s to a marriage I know will last, not because I’m a sentimental woman, but because I see what you put into your relationship to make it eternal. I have no doubt, many years from now when we’re old, and some of us are gray—not me—”

They all laugh.

“We’ll be raising our glasses at your 20^th wedding anniversary. I love you both. Cheers.”

They clink glasses, then sip the Champagne. Laura looks into Bradley’s eyes and sees the love Alex just described.

“That was beautiful,” Bradley offers.

Alex reaches out to hug the newlyweds.

Laura grins. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Levy.”

“Oh, stop.” She makes a shooing motion. “Being out here has been good for me. I don’t want to go back.”

“I could say the same,” Maggie chimes in.

“I don’t even want to think about leaving this place.” Bradley slings her arm low around Laura’s waist. “Maybe I could be the caretaker and you could pay me.”

Laura lets out a boisterous laugh. “Oh, honey, I don’t think you know what’s involved in being a caretaker.”

“Brushing the horses, mowing the grass, cleaning the house…” She shrugs. “What’s so hard about that?”

“You’re forgetting baling the hay, servicing the tractor, putting up storm windows, shoveling snow in the winter, cleaning the barn, trimming the hedges…Should I go on?”

“No, I think I’ve got the picture.” Bradley holds a hand up. “Fine, you can pay Dallas to keep doing that; I’ll just live off the land.”

Laura retracts her chin. “And where would I be?”

“Catering to my every need,” she offers in an exaggerated Southern accent as she bats her eyes.

“How is that any different from what we’re doing now?” Laura deadpans.

Bradley slaps her wife’s arm.

“Ow!”

“While you two continue your banter,” Maggie says after a sip. “We’ve got work to do.”

Laura laces her fingers through Bradley’s. “Where did you say we’re relegated to while you set up?”

“The house,” Alex replies. “Give us about 30 minutes.”

Bradley’s eyes roam up and down her wife’s body. “I have an idea about what we can do for 30 minutes.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “That comes after the reception, honey.”

“Since when are you the queen of tradition?”

She tugs Bradley towards the house. “Since you took my name 15 minutes ago.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

Laura chuckles. “That’s how it is.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They enter their bedroom, and no sooner is the door closed before Bradley presses her body against Laura. “You look so fucking hot in this suit.”

She chuckles against Bradley’s mouth. “You’ve mentioned that.”

She kisses Laura deeply. “I’m sorry you won’t be in it for very long—at least not for now.”

“Bradley, honey…” Laura wants to refrain from indulging in a kiss, but it’s difficult when her wife’s hands land on her ass. “We have to look presentable when we go out there for the reception—our reception.”

“Who said anything about not looking presentable?” She pulls back, hands on either side of Laura’s face. “Nothing says I can’t ravage you before we get all put back together.”

That’s all it takes for Laura’s desire to win her internal debate. She pulls Bradley’s dress up from the hem but quickly realizes there’s a side zipper.

“Fuck,” Bradley murmurs between kisses. She reaches for the zipper. “Here.” She tries tugging it, but it’s stuck. “Fuck!”

“Allow me.” Laura takes over in the suave way she usually does and frees her of her dress. Before she removes Bradley’s underwear, she steps back and stares at her woman.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have this.” Her eyes move from Bradley’s chest to her stomach and down her legs. “To have you.”

Bradley blushes. “I ordered this lingerie for our wedding night.”

She’s wearing a rose-colored, lace triangle bra and matching thong, but Laura’s eyes are drawn to the garter around her thigh.

She snaps it. “Is this for me?”

Bradley chuckles although her sense of humor is on a short fuse with the way her wife is eyeing her. “Who else would it be for?”

“I never thought about a garter.” She strokes Bradley’s thigh, fingering the thin fabric, then moving to the lace covering her center. “I like it.”

“Wanna pull it off?”

She kisses a path up Bradley’s leg, then lingers in front of the place she most covets. “In a minute.” Laura’s tongue zips out to taste her wife, and Bradley’s hips thrust forward. She licks her through the thin, lacy fabric several times before pushing it aside and going to town on her center. Her left hand dips down to feel the garter, and it turns Laura on to know this secret little strap is for her to admire, then remove.

She starts wiggling the elastic band down Bradley’s thigh while eating her with extreme finesse.

“I’m close, babe…” Bradley’s pants become shallow. “Right there.”

“I love pleasuring…” Laura begins between licks. “My wife.”

The reference rings in Bradley’s ears and that’s all it takes to tip her over the edge. She looks down at Laura still dressed in her wedding suit and the visual coupled with her wife’s tongue dancing over her clit makes her explode into a thousand pieces. Laura has given her many powerful orgasms, but this one might be the most intense.

“You knew calling me that would get me all riled up,” Bradley says through thick breaths as she comes down from an incredible orgasm.

Laura gets to her feet and smirks, pressing her body against her lover’s. “I did.”

“Mmm…” Bradley kisses her soundly, changing the angle and dipping her tongue inside. “I love you so much, babe.”

“Love you, too.” She kisses her nose. “We need to be presentable for dinner.”

“Are you suggesting I wait to do you?” Her accent is always most pronounced when she’s spent.

“Yes.” Laura bends down, tugging the garter back up Bradley’s thigh. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“I should be the one making such a promise.” She grins, pulling her thong back in place. “Because the positions will be reversed later.”

Laura grinds against her. “Will they?” She doesn’t tell her wife if she so much as touches her right now, all bets are off and they will be late for their reception.

Bradley backs away. “Alright, fine.” She moves to the bathroom to wipe herself and to look, as Laura said, presentable. “Should we go out there?”

Laura looks at the clock. “They probably need a little more time.”

She glances in the mirror, adjusting the straps on her dress. “I loved your vows.”

“I loved yours.” Laura wraps her arms around her bride from behind. “And the inscription inside the ring.”

“You win on that front.” She takes her ring off and reads it with a grin. “Say it again.”

Laura takes the ring, sliding it onto Bradley’s finger again. “Well, if it isn’t Bradley Peterson.”

She laughs heartily, throwing her arms around her wife’s waist. “I don’t know what I love more, you calling me that or you calling me your wife.”

Laura pretends to be contemplative for a moment. “How about this: Well, if it isn’t my wife, Bradley Peterson?”

“Even better.” She kisses her soundly. “I love you, Laura.”

“I love you, too.”

They make out for several minutes, but as things start to heat up again a knock at the door startles them.

“We’re ready whenever you are,” Maggie calls. “Take your time.”

“We’re not doing anything private,” Bradley announces, wiping her wife’s glistening lower lip, then walking to the door. “Hey.”

Maggie stands there, grinning. “Are you ready for your wedding reception?”

Bradley turns back to Laura, silently questioning if she’s ready.

“Can’t wait,” she replies, reaching for Bradley’s hand. “What’s on the menu?”

“It better not be smoked meat.” Bradley rolls her eyes. “Otherwise, I might have to call the whole thing off.”

Her wife gives her a look as if she’s offended. “Tell me one time when you didn’t enjoy anything I’ve smoked on the Traeger.”

“I enjoy everything you cook, babe, it’s just time for your grilling apparatus to take a little break,” Bradley notes.

Maggie steps aside with a chuckle. “It’s not smoked meat.”

Laura tugs her wife’s hand through the house until they arrive outside and turn the corner. Alex is standing there, lighting taper candles, ready to welcome the newlyweds.

“This looks incredible,” Bradley announces as she takes in the spread with six or seven serving dishes.

“I hope you like it,” Alex says. “We have artichoke & red pepper dip, stuffed mushrooms, prime rib, scalloped potatoes, sunburst vegetable medley, a garden salad, dinner rolls, and of course the wedding cake.”

“Did you think we were feeding a party of 50?” Laura asks.

“We wanted it to be reminiscent of a more traditional wedding with all the trimmings,” Maggie states. “We should have plenty of leftovers for you to enjoy over the next few days.”

“Thank you,” Laura squeezes Maggie’s hand, then turns to Alex. “I mean it. Thank you for putting in the effort.”

“Thank you for having us here to celebrate with you,” Alex replies. “It’s such a joy.”

The women enjoy their four-course meal, followed by a delectable wedding cake with an almond cream filling. Bradley insists upon cutting it as a couple, and Alex happily takes pictures. The evening ends with dancing, drinking and looks of complete and utter love.

That night, Bradley makes good on her promise to make her wife feel treasured, and Laura can’t resist pleasuring Bradley again as well. They fall asleep just after 11 o’clock, tangled in each other’s arms, both with satisfied smiles plastered on their faces.

“Good night, Mrs. Peterson,” Laura mumbles before she drifts off to sleep.

“Good night, my wife.”

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

“Anyone who said pregnancy is a joy had to be high.” Bradley adjusts on the sofa, grimacing when she tries bending forward. “It fucking sucks.”

Laura pulls her wife’s feet onto her lap. “Your first two trimesters weren’t that bad.”

She gives her a look. “You’re forgetting three weeks in July when I had to miss work because I puked every morning.”

She starts rubbing Bradley’s swollen feet. “Just think of what we’ve been through to get here.”

She tips her head back and sighs. “I know.”

They’d gotten pregnant nine months after getting married, and all signs pointed to the IVF being successful. They’d started telling close friends the good news, but eight weeks into Bradley’s pregnancy, she miscarried. It was the most devastating, painful moment in each woman’s life, and it took months to recover. They weren’t certain about trying again—Bradley’s doctor warned about possible complications, and it was already deemed a high-risk pregnancy due to her age, so adding the emotional component of having lost a baby once made the couple think long and hard about trying again.

On the anniversary of their meeting on the plane headed to Iowa—a date they celebrate with equal fervor as their wedding anniversary—Bradley told Laura she wanted to try IVF one more time. If it didn’t work, they’d move on with their lives and try not to think about what it would be like to raise a child together.

“If this baby doesn’t come out soon, I don’t know what I’m going do.” She’d started having contractions two days ago and even went on an emergency visit to her OBGYN, but the contractions were still too far apart to do anything proactive. Dr. Byrd offered to admit her, but Bradley didn’t want to spend the next week in the hospital if she didn’t have to.

Laura continues massaging her wife’s feet. “They’ll induce on the fifth if your water doesn’t break before then.”

“That’s four days from now.” She rubs her protruding belly. “I just hope everything is alright.”

“It is.” Laura pauses and stares at her wife. After the last incident, they decided to run every optional test on Bradley as well as the baby to ensure the pregnancy was proceeding normally.  “We’re having a healthy baby.”

She nods, grateful for her wife’s reassurance. “I feel like it’s a girl.”

Laura chuckles as she rubs lotion onto Bradley’s feet. “How can you feel like it’s a girl?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Call it a hunch.”

They agreed with their first pregnancy as well as this one they wanted to be surprised about the sex of their child. They’d tossed out names over the last couple weeks and had settled on a singular one if it was a girl, but they couldn’t agree on one of three names if it was a boy.

“As long as it’s healthy, I don’t care what it is.” Laura stands, placing a kiss on Bradley’s forehead. “Hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.” One thing Bradley loved about being pregnant was eating whatever her heart desired. “What’s for dinner?”

“You mentioned craving shrimp yesterday.” Laura moves to the kitchen in their New York brownstone. “So, I made shrimp stir fry with carrots, snow peas, and broccoli.”

Bradley hoists herself up. “Sounds delicious.” She takes three steps towards the kitchen and suddenly feels a gush down her legs. “Um, Laura…”

She lifts the lid on the sauté pan, then turns to her wife. “Yeah?”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Fuck!” Laura’s eyes widen as she rushes over to steady her wife. “Ok, um…you’re going to be fine. We’re prepared.”

Panic settles in Bradley’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.” Laura lifts her wife’s chin. “Look at me, Bradley. You can do this, ok? We knew this could happen. I’m right here…Look at me.”

She finally meets her eyes and nods. “I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Laura offers a warm, confident smile. “I’m going to call an ambulance, and we’re going to have a baby.”

If either of them had a car, Laura would’ve driven Bradley to the hospital, but they’d discussed calling an ambulance if her water broke; it was the safe thing to do.

Tears roll down Bradley’s cheeks. “What if it takes too long and I have the baby right here?”

“That’s not going to happen, honey.” Laura cups her cheek. “It'll be here within 10 minutes. I’m going to grab your bag.”

“Don’t leave me.”

She squeezes Bradley’s hand. “I won’t—promise.”

Four hours later, Laura paces in the waiting room as doctors tend to Bradley. She’s lost a significant amount of blood and they need to do a transfusion, forcing Laura to have to leave the room against her wishes. She’s a nervous wreck and wonders if it’s only a matter of time before she pukes on the linoleum.

“Honey, are you ok?” Alex comes barreling into the room with outstretched arms; Maggie is three steps behind.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Laura sniffs as she accepts Alex’s hug.

“It happens all the time,” she replies, pulling back so Maggie can have a turn at hugging their friend. “It happened to me.”

“It did?”

Alex nods. “Sure did. And look—I’m fine; Lizzy’s fine.”

She wipes her watery eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if—”

“Don’t!” Maggie holds Laura’s shoulders. “Don’t even think it. Bradley will be fine. Your baby will be fine. Trust me.”

“I trust you, but I don’t think you have the authority to determine either person’s fate,” Laura replies through a shaky breath.

Alex peeks down the hallway. “How long have you been out here?”

“An hour I think.” She sniffs. “I don’t know—maybe longer.”

“Has anyone updated you?”

Laura nods. “A nurse came out a few minutes ago.”

“What did she say?” Maggie asks, lowering her hands.

She starts pacing again. “Just that they were taking good care of Bradley.”

“They are,” Alex states. “You have the best doctors in New York. Your wife will be just fine. So will your baby.”

Five minutes later, a doctor pushes through two swinging doors and removes his mask, revealing a smile. “Ms. Peterson, your wife is doing fine.”

She all but runs towards him. “She is?”

“She’s stable now.” He nods. “We’re prepping to do a cesarean. Normally, a spouse can be in the room during the procedure, but we think it’s best to have you remain out here.”

“What does that mean?” Laura tosses her head from side to side. “I promised I’d be with her.”

“Although we anticipate everything going smoothly from here on out, this is considered emergency surgery.” He holds up a hand on seeing the panicked look on Laura’s face. “There’s no cause for alarm.”

“No cause for alarm?” she shouts. “My wife had to have a blood transfusion and my child is at risk!”

“We’re taking good care of both of them,” he replies. “You should have a child within the hour. Just try to remain calm and let us take care of them.”

Alex steps next to her. “She will.”

“But…” Laura tries to follow the doctor down the corridor, but Maggie tugs her arm.

“Let them do their jobs.”

“I…” Laura shakes her head again, eyebrows drawn into a tight V. “What if?”

“You heard the man,” Maggie begins in a confident tone. “Bradley is stable. You’re going to have a baby soon.”

A fresh set of tears surfaces. “I won’t believe it until I see her.”

The next hour is the most grueling hour of Laura’s life. She can’t sit, can’t concentrate, and can’t erase the thought of Bradley in pain from her head. No matter how many comforting words Alex and Maggie utter, Laura is inconsolable.

Fifty-six minutes later, the same doctor who informed Laura her wife was stable breezes through the swinging doors again. “Congratulations, Ms. Peterson. You’re officially a mother.”

“I...” Her heart nearly stops. “How’s Bradley?”

“Doing fine.” He steps aside. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes. Yes.” She hustles down the hallway, turning back and giving her friends the best smile she can muster. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Ok, sweetie.” Alex clasps her hands together. “Give Bradley our love.”

The doctor stops in front of Room 102. “Right in here.”

Laura doesn’t focus on the wires and machines surrounding the bed that appear to be hooked up to her wife. She concentrates on Bradley lying there, holding a swaddled infant and smiling with pride.

“Bradley?”

Her head shoots up, smile widening. “Hey, babe. Come meet our daughter.” Her voice is hoarse and she looks exhausted, but the doctor is right—Bradley seems ok.

Laura covers her mouth with both hands. “We have a girl?”

“We do.” Bradley grins down at the bundle in her arms. “She’s perfect.”

Laura rushes over, placing a tentative hand on the infant’s head and the other on her wife’s cheek. “Wow.” She smiles at Bradley with reverence. “You did it.”

Bradley’s head lulls back as her eyes fall shut. “I had to have a C-section.”

“I heard.” She caresses her wife’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired…weak.”

The baby makes little cooing sounds.

Laura kisses her. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Mmm,” she moans. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you, honey.” She kisses her again. “Can I hold her?”

Bradley’s eyes flutter open. “I think so.”

“You certainly can.” The nurse who has been checking the machines attached to Bradley pipes up. “And this little mamma has to get some rest.”

Bradley hands the infant over to Laura, and the nurse is right there to assist. “Hold her neck up like this.”

Laura eyes the nurse and follows her instructions. “Like this?”

“Exactly.”

“Wow,” Laura breathes. “We have a baby girl.”

“A perfect baby girl.” Bradley’s lips tug up. “Should we give her a name?”

Laura beams at her wife as she perches on the edge of the mattress. “I think we know what it is.”

Bradley lifts a hand with an IV stuck to the back of it to their daughter’s head. “She looks like a noble woman just like her mommy.”

“So it’s settled?” Laura smiles down at the infant. “Ethel Jackson-Peterson?”

“Baby Ethel. Ettie for short,” Bradley says aloud. “Your grandmother would be proud.”

It hadn’t taken them long to determine the name of their baby if it was a girl. Not only was Laura fond of her grandmother, but the name Ethel means noble woman. It’s the only female name Bradley ever considered despite it sounding a bit dated.

“I’m so proud.” Laura leans down to kiss the baby’s nose. “Of you…of her.”

“Ok, mommies…” the nurse switches a machine on. “It’s time for baby Ethel to get a check-up and for Mrs. Peterson to get some rest.”

“Can I stay in the room?” Laura asks.

“Sure, as long as you let your wife sleep.”

She nods. “I will.”

The nurse reaches for the infant. “Come here, little one.”

The baby makes a few sounds and jostles its tight fists.

“Is she healthy?” Laura asks even though Bradley has said as much twice.

“She’s great,” the nurse replies. “I’ll bring you the chart with her info on it right after I get her settled.”

“How’s my wife?”

“Blood pressure steadily rising; temperature just below 97 degrees,” she says. “The doctor should be in to give a full report any minute.”

“Ok.” She lets out a long breath, grabbing Bradley’s hand that isn’t poked with an IV. “Ok.”

Bradley yawns. “I’m sleepy.”

“Get some rest, honey.” She brushes matted blonde hair off her wife’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She nods, squeezing Laura’s hand.

Within seconds, Bradley falls fast asleep and Laura finally exhales.

As she sits in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to her woman’s bed, she breathes a sigh of relief and says a prayer of thanks. Laura never imagined having a child—at least not in her adult life—yet she has never been happier; prouder than she is in that moment.

“Ethel Jackson-Peterson, get your tiny ass over here now!”

The four-year-old runs into the kitchen with vanilla ice cream dripping down her chin. “What I do, mamma?”

Her expression is so innocent, Bradley regrets yelling just a little. “You left the ice cream carton on the counter.” She gestures to the syrupy drips down the side of the container and falling onto the floor.

“No, I didn’t.” She licks the cone. “Mommy did.”

Bradley raises her eyebrows. “Mommy did?”

She nods. “I’m too wittle. I can’t put it back in the fweeza.”

Her daughter has a point. “Mommy left it out?”

“She had to take a caw.”

Bradley wipes the mess with a wet rag and it hits her like a ton of bricks: The last time she cleaned up spilled ice cream was at Laura’s dinner party before they were a couple. A smile crosses her face. “She had to take a call?”

“Uh huh.”

“Alright,” Bradley sighs. “Take your ice cream outside.”

Ettie skips onto the patio and starts dancing to Depeche Mode, which they’ve left on all day and has been blaring through the outdoor speakers.

Bradley can’t stop smiling.

Laura breezes in, shoving her phone into the back pocket of her Levi’s. “What’s going on?”

“You left the Blue Bell out.” She hands the container to her wife. “And I blamed Ettie.”

“Shit, sorry.” Laura sticks it in the freezer. “I got a call from Cybil.”

Bradley’s eyebrows climb on her forehead. They’d been waiting for this call for days. “And?”

She smiles. “The show is a go.”

She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “It is?”

Laura singularly nods. “In one month, you’ll have your own political program on UBA that I’ll produce.”

Bradley bounces on her toes. “Really?”

“And you can broadcast from the ranch unless you have to travel on assignment.”

“I…I can’t believe it.” Bradley throws her arms around Laura’s neck. “You did it.”

“I didn’t do anything.” She kisses her. “Well, I suppose I set the wheels in motion, but you’re the journalist with the political acumen worthy of her own show.”

“You did more than set the wheels in motion, babe.” Bradley deepens the kiss. “You came up with the idea and presented it to Cybil and the Board.”

“Technically, yes.” She nips at her wife’s lips. “But if that means raising our daughter here and sleeping next to you every night, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to make it happen.”

“Thank you.” Bradley grasps the collar on her wife’s blouse. “For everything.”

Laura smirks. “Does this mean I’m forgiven for leaving the ice cream out?”

“Maybe.” She tugs her towards the counter and gets on her toes, hoping Laura understands what’s on her mind.

Laura lifts her wife until Bradley is seated with her legs open on the granite. She glances at their daughter outside. “What’s Ettie doing?”

She hikes up her sundress. “Eating ice cream and dancing to Enjoy the Silence.”

Laura nearly chokes on a laugh. “What are her friends going to think of her taste in music?”

Bradley starts unbuttoning her wife’s blouse. “That she has excellent taste.”

“Stop.” She stills her wife’s hands. “We can’t do it here.”

“Why not?” Bradley tilts her head. “You chicken?”

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate to have sex in the kitchen with our daughter 50 feet away.”

“I’ll fix that.” She jumps off the counter and heads outside. “Hey, Ettie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you do me a favor and help Uncle Dallas brush the horses?”

She jumps up and down. “Yeah!”

Bradley ruffles her wavy, dark hair. “Take your ice cream with you.”

Their daughter takes off across the lawn towards the barn, leaving Bradley smiling on the deck.

“Let me guess.” Laura appears in the doorway. “You told her to help Dallas with Gumdrop.”

“Something like that.” She smirks. “Now what was that about sex in the kitchen?”

“You’re slick, Bradley Peterson.”

She hops back onto the granite. “Not so much slick as horny.”

Laura leans in for a kiss, one hand reaching under the hem of her sundress. “Can I assist with that?”

“I think so.” She deepens the kiss. “I mean, if you want.”

“I definitely want.” Her hand lands on Bradley’s cotton panties. “Why do I suddenly find Jockey underwear sexy?”

“Because I’m wearing them?”

Laura smirks against her wife’s mouth as her fingers dip under the waistband and she makes Bradley writhe with pleasure.

Although they don’t have sex nearly as often as they used to, Bradley and Laura have a healthy sex life. They still enjoy pleasuring each other, though nowadays it’s mostly on weekends when their daughter is fast asleep. They’re looking forward to Autumn when Ettie starts pre-school and they can have their way with each other between the hours of 8:30 and 3 p.m. daily. To that end, Laura has ordered a few new sex toys she knows Bradley will approve of, though she still prefers good, old fashioned lesbian sex.

“I’m close, babe.” Bradley’s hips rock back and forth as she looks down at her wife’s hand buried in her underwear. “Right there.”

Laura has always enjoyed the way Bradley’s face contorts when they have sex, and this time is no different. She kisses her soundly once more before pulling back and watching an orgasm roll through Bradley’s body.

“Fuck…” Bradley pants, resting her forehead against her wife’s.

Laura kisses her. “That was quick.”

“Years of practice.”

She chuckles.

“Mamma, Uncle Dallas isn’t in the bawn!”

They turn their heads to see their daughter in the entryway, and Laura quickly extracts her wet fingers from her wife’s center.

Bradley tugs her sundress down. “He was there a minute ago.”

“Oh well.” Ettie shrugs. “I dropped my ice cweam on the grass.”

She hops off the counter. “No more until after dinner.”

Laura walks to the sink to wash her hands, grateful they were finished before Ethel walked in.

“But, mommmm!”

“No, but mom,” Laura states, drying her hands with a dish towel. “You need to save room for burgers tonight.”

“Hambugas?”

“Yes, hambugas,” she replies with a smile.

Ettie does a little happy dance.

Bradley comes up behind her wife, stringing her arms around her waist. “Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” Laura twists her head until she’s able to kiss Bradley’s hairline. “To be continued?”

“Definitely.” She releases Laura, then turns to her daughter. “Time to get cleaned up.”

“I don’t wanna bath!”

Laura pats her bottom. “Too bad…Let’s go upstairs.”

Ettie pouts. “Can I take a showa outside?”

Laura eyes her wife.

Bradley grabs the Dawn from the sink. “Fine, but you’re using soap this time.”

“We’re allowing our daughter to bathe with dish soap?”

Bradley shrugs. “Soap is soap.”

“I can’t believe we’ve stooped to this,” she sighs though her grin betrays her frustration. “Let’s go—outside.”

Ettie runs out the door towards the shower they’d installed a year ago. “Why was mamma sitting on the kitchen counter?”

Laura’s surprised by her daughter’s observation. Surely, they’re not going to be able to keep things secret from her in the near future. “She was being silly.”

Ethel turns the nozzle on. “I wanna sit on the counter.”

“Maybe later, sweetie.” She squeezes a dollop of Dawn into her hands. “For now, let’s get that ice cream out of your hair.”

“Reach out, touch faith,” Ettie sings as she shakes her little booty to her mamma’s favorite Depeche Mode song.

Laura laughs at her antics as she watches her wife smiling from the patio. She never imagined living this life, but she loves every fucking second with her family and their beautiful life on the ranch.

The End