Jordan sighed, pressed a kiss to her head. “No, you’re not.”
Astrid didn’t respond. She pretended to have drifted off already, but Jordan’s words lodged themselves in her mind.
Shewasfine.
This was who she was. She worked hard and long. She succeeded. She’d already booked two new projects for the summer—a new office for a gynecologist who wanted a spa-like feel, and a tiny bungalow over on Amaryllis Avenue—and she was poised and professional during her hours at the Everwood job.
But was this even her?
She wasn’t sure anymore.
When she felt Jordan go limp against her, her breathing evening out with sleep, she turned to face her lover just as she had every night this week, tracing her elfin face with her fingertips. Sleep eluded Astrid. Instead, she watched Jordan’s eyes flutter with dreams, the woman she was almost positive she was in love with, whose design she was claiming as her own, and she cried.
BY FRIDAY MORNING,Astrid was so exhausted, she could barely stand up. She knew she looked terrible and relied a little too muchon Darcy, who was absolute magic with under-eye circles. Today’s filming schedule was packed. They were starting in the Lapis Room for the installation of the rugged wooden beams that were going to arch over the ceiling, as well as the herringbone feature wall. After that, Natasha and the Everwoods were heading to the historical society in town to get some shots of a few Alice Everwood artifacts they kept under glass.
Astrid was in the Lapis Room already, going over the design one more time, checking that all the materials were accounted for. Her iPad shook in her hands. She’d probably had one too many cups of coffee that morning already, but caffeine was the only thing that kept her alert these days.
“Hey,” Jordan said as she came into the room carrying her tool bag.
“Hey,” Astrid said, keeping her eyes on her screen. She felt rather than saw Jordan pause, as though she were waiting for Astrid to look at her.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Eye contact was hard lately. Not that it had ever been easy for Astrid, but she could hardly meet Jordan’s gaze this last week without her throat swelling.
Astrid hated it, but she didn’t know what else to do. They just had to get through this reno, all this filming. Once that was done, she and Jordan could really start. Once all this was over, everything would go back to normal.
The thought should’ve been comforting, but somehow, it only made Astrid want to scream. Her lower lip threatened to wobble, so she clenched her jaw so tight, she knew she’d have a headache by noon.
“Hey,” Jordan said again, but this time, she was right next to Astrid. Jordan set both hands on her shoulders, turning her so Astrid had no choice but to look her in the eye.
God, she was beautiful. Astrid drank her in, and almost against her will, Astrid’s lungs heaved a deep, shuddering breath.
Jordan frowned and brought her hands up to frame Astrid’s face. “Baby,” she said, and that was it. Just that single, soft word, but it was enough to nearly break Astrid in half.
“Let’s go somewhere this weekend,” Jordan said.
Astrid struggled to keep her voice even. “Like where?”
“Anywhere. Winter Lake, maybe. I bet Josh could hook us up with a cabin to rent. We’ll go on a proper date and watch horrible rom-coms.” She wrapped her arms around Astrid’s waist, pressed her mouth to her neck. “Sleep until noon. Drink cheap wine. Have sex on the porch.”
Astrid laughed. “The porch?”
Jordan’s teeth nipped at her neck. “We’ll get a secluded cabin.”
Astrid closed her eyes, let herself drift. That sounded perfect. That sounded like the kind of life she wanted.
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
Jordan pulled back. “Okay?”
Astrid nodded and Jordan kissed her. Astrid curled her arms around Jordan’s neck and kissed her back. She kissed her harder, then harder still, as though the press of their mouths was the solution to every problem.
Maybe it was.
Astrid was ready to call it a day and drag Jordan home with her when a throat was cleared in the doorway. The two women leaped apart, but relaxed a little when they saw it was Simon.
