“Are you fucking kidding me right now!” Gemma stood back from Rory and covered her naked breasts with her arms.
Rory stood looking dejected, with her head dropped and eyes closed.
“I-I’m sorry but I can’t.” She fiddled with the bow on her shorts, bringing Gemma’s attention back to the body that she had fantasised about running her fingers and tongue over before the day was out. All hints of desire drained away from Gemma as Rory, yet again, rejected her and left her heart in a mess.
“I wish I could explain things.” Rory ran a hand through her hair before roughly tugging it back into a ponytail.
Her actions were harsh, but there was a vulnerability emanating from her that Gemma couldn’t explain.
“You’ve been leading me on all fucking weekend Rory!” She put her hands on her hips, ready to face off against Rory but then remembered that her bikini top was still bunched around her waist and her breasts were swaying, naked, in front of Rory’s face. Gemma tried to ignore the flash ofdesire that rippled across Rory’s face before being replaced by pain and something else that Gemma couldn’t interpret.
“I know, and I’m truly sorry, but….” Rory turned away and wrapped her arms around herself whilst Gemma scooped up her top and secured it around her neck. She fastened it securely before adjusting her breasts to make sure her nipples faced forward and looked good. If Rory truly didn’t want her anymore, then Gemma had every intention of making it as difficult for her as possible.
“I wish I could explain.” Rory ran a hand over her face but still stood away from Gemma.
“I don’t want to hear it, Rory,” Gemma spat out. “I don’t care about your hang-ups or your stupid fiancée or whatever the fuck else is going on with you. Just. Go!”
Gemma turned on her heel and stalked over to the window to look out over the manicured lawns that she and Rory had walked across last night. She wrapped her arms around herself, partly for comfort and partly because the air con was too cold. As much as she wanted Rory to wrap her arms around her and tell her she was sorry and that it would all be okay, she was relieved when she heard the door click shut and she was finally alone again.
10
RORY
Rory sat up in bed and rubbed her hand over her face. Weariness almost pulled her back under the covers, but she knew she had to join the family for breakfast and check out before heading back to London. She forced herself out of bed and padded across her hotel room to make a coffee. As the coffee machine sputtered and gurgled, she swished the curtains open and looked out across the lawns to the swimming pool and grimaced. This weekend had been a total disaster, and she was surer than ever that her relationship with Gemma would be irreconcilable.
Gemma.
Her shoulders slumped as she remembered she was driving Gemma home. The prospect of a tense three hours in a car driving back to London was not pleasant, and she wondered how she could get out of it. The need to slink home without seeing the other woman again was greater, at the moment, than her grandmother’s wrath.
Dinner last night had been pleasant but strained. Fortunately, the grandmothers had monopolised theirgranddaughters’ attention, and no one had really clocked that Rory and Gemma were not speaking to each other. When Phyllis had poked her granddaughter and asked her what was wrong, Rory had come up with some guff about being tired and worn out by the sun. In fact, everyone at the table had looked tanned but tired and, fortunately, everyone went to bed soon after dinner. Gemma had pretty much run away as soon as politeness allowed with a kiss to her grandmother’s cheek, so there was no chance for Rory to explain, to find the words for Gemma that she couldn’t find for herself.
Her phone pinged with a message from her mother reminding her about breakfast in the main dining room, and Rory shook herself out of her thoughts and went into the bathroom. As she took her hair down from the messy bun she had slept in, she remembered Gemma running her hands through it last night and the reaction she’d had. It was extreme, she knew that, but her hair was the main thing she hated about herself right now. She wanted to cut it shorter but knew that a bob wouldn’t suit her face and would likely annoy her more than the long hair would.
Quickly, she washed and conditioned her hair before reaching for the body wash. As she ran her hands over her body, she noticed the tan lines at the top of her thighs where her costume had been yesterday. She thought about the time spent by the pool and then the time in Gemma’s room. God, how she had wanted her. Her mind was whirring with thoughts and feelings, but her body was certain in its need for Gemma. She briefly wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t acted like a fool and run away again. Would they have had sex? Probably. Would they have met again last night and slept together? Taken their time with each other’s bodies? Could she have slept another nightwith Gemma in her arms? Possibly. She would never know now.
She pulled on her jeans and a shirt before gulping her coffee and dashing to the dining room. As she approached, she saw George lingering by the door and approached him happily.
“Hey George, are we the only two down?” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and looked around.
“Yes, Isabelle is doing her hair.” He sighed dramatically. “And your parents have taken the grandmothers for a quick turn around the gardens as Isabelle is running late. I’ve not seen Gemma, but I’m sure she will be here. You know what she’s like in the morning.”
They both chuckled good-naturedly and let the hovering waiter show them to a table. There was no point in hanging around in the hallway, and she needed more coffee. Her brain was still not fully awake because of the fitful night’s sleep she’d had, and she needed the boost. Once the waiter had left them with coffee and some toast, George turned to her.
“So, London legal life suiting you?” He fiddled with the sugar spoon before thoughtfully adding sugar to his coffee.
“Yes, lovely thanks.” She smiled, not letting on that the constant travel and overseas trips were starting to wear her down or that working on deals worth millions, if not billions, of pounds was not as exciting as it had been in the past.
“Well, you know.” He cleared his throat. “We are always looking for good lawyers down here.” He sipped his coffee and looked at her from behind his glasses. His face was almost as familiar to her as her own father’s.
“Oh.” Rory sipped her black coffee, wincing at the heat of it but grateful for some time to think. George had beeninstrumental in her going to London and qualifying as a lawyer, but never had he offered her a job or talked about her coming home.
“It’s just.” He cleared his throat again. “You know, with you and Gemma.” He waved his hands around in a vague back-and-forth motion. “And of course you’ve been like a daughter to me for a while, and it would be good to have her living closer to home.”
Rory put a hand up to stop him. “I don’t know what you think is happening with me and Gemma, but until Friday night we hadn’t seen each other for ten years, and I think it’s unlikely that we will see each other again for a while after this weekend.”
“It’s okay, Rory.” He put a hand on hers and spoke softly. “I saw you leaving her room yesterday morning.”
Rory gulped and took another sip of her coffee. She weighed her words carefully.
