“What’s this one called?” she asked without looking away from the unusual flower.
“I’m not an orchid guy.” Bryn set the speaker on the floor and connected her phone. A carefully curated playlist joined them on the quiet patio. “I’ve always been really into palm trees.”
Bryn unzipped the cooler and pulled out the charcuterie board she’d spent way too much money on. She placed the board on the crate Olga had left as a coffee table. It all looked a little more rustic than she’d planned, but she figured Vivian would appreciate the privacy. Last, she grabbed the Dom Pérignon from Harvey she’d been saving.
“Orchids are gorgeous, but temperamental.” Bryn looked at Vivian while she uncorked the champagne and laughed. “I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t always go for the?—”
“You can’t imagine what I’m thinking,” Vivian said so softly as she neared, expression unreadable.
Bryn tightened her grip on the wildly expensive champagne, condensation threatening to make it slip through her fingers.
When Vivian stepped into her space, Bryn held her breath. Her eyes were glistening, but not with excitement like Bryn hoped. They burned with regret. WithI’m sorry, but.Bryn’s heart plummeted into her stomach.
“This is beautiful,” Vivian said as if offering condolences at a funeral. “It’s so thoughtful, Bryn.” She held Bryn in her gaze. “I really need you to hear me when I say that. I’ve never had anyone put together something so special and?—”
“Is it too much?” Bryn was desperate to get to the point. To understand where she’d gone wrong. She set the bottle down next to the food.
“No,” Vivian muttered, warm hands cradling Bryn’s face with so much tenderness, it shouldn’t have made Bryn want to puke. “You’re not too much.” Her voice broke on the words, cracking a fissure down Bryn’s sternum. “I’m not enough,” she said, pain coating her words. “I could never match this. You deserve someone who can give you in return?—”
“It’s just a date, Vivian. It’s not like?—”
“It’s not just a date.”
She dropped her hands from Bryn’s face, but Bryn caught them. Held them tightly in hers. Showed Vivian that she wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re so big. Everything about you is just…huge.” Vivian shook her head. “I’ve spent all my life contracting. Pulling in to survive. And you’re so—” She took a breath, eyes watering. “You’re expansive and generous in a way that I fear can only suffocate.”
Bryn opened her mouth, but Vivian kept going. Kept bleeding. No, not bleeding. Bloodletting, like she was pouring out fear like infection.
“I don’t know how to do this.” She gestured vaguely at the display. “I’ve never built anything. I’ve only ever protected what I clawed back from people who wanted to take it. That’s all I know how to do. Survive. Endure.” Vivian clenched her jaw as if holding back a tide. “But building something with someone I care about? I don’t have the blueprint for that. I’ve never even seen one.”
Vivian pulled one hand free to press it against her stomach, as if she could hold herself together from the outside. Like she was keeping tectonic plates together by sheer force of will.
“And the terrifying part isn’t failing.” She wiped away a single tear before Bryn could catch it. “I’ve failed before. What scares the absolute shit out of me is taking you down with me when I do. I can’t risk that. I can’t risk you.” She shook her head. “Iwon’t.”
“Vivian.” Bryn’s voice was nearly inaudible, lost in her heart pounding in the back of her throat. “I hear you, I do.” She begged with her eyes. With her teeth. With her soul. Begged with everything in her power for Vivian to believe her. “But your fears are fears, and you’re treating them like facts.”
“You’re going to get tired of me being like this.”
“I won’t,” she vowed. “We’re in this together. Building this together. It’s not all on you.” She pulled Vivian in, one hand on her jaw and the other gripping her waist. “You’re standing here with me. That’s enough. The rest comes one brick at a time. You know now to protect something worth building. And I believe thatthis—thatweare worth building.”
Bryn slipped her hand over the back of Vivian’s neck. With the lightest touch, Vivian bent toward her. A willow finding the wind. She pressed her forehead to Bryn’s like she might feel Bryn’s truth through her skin if her ears couldn’t be counted on.
“I will remind you every single day,” Bryn muttered, eyes closed and heart roaring in her own ears. “I will never get tired of showing you that you deserve patience and care and?—”
Vivian cut her off with a kiss. Not tender. Not tentative. An unstoppable crash. Her mouth found Bryn’s like she was trying to say something her throat refused to carry. Like she could press her terrifying truth through the seam of Bryn’s lips because words fell short.
And Bryn returned every greedy swipe of Vivian’s tongue and begged her to take more. To take it all.
Vivian grabbed Bryn’s shirt, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Until Bryn could feel the hammering of Vivian’s heart against her own chest. Until she couldn’t tell whose heart was racing.
They’d kissed so many times, but it had never felt like this. This was desperate. Bryn wanted to absolve her of all the unnecessary weight she carried. To chase away the fears that had calcified. The fears that had hardened into scar tissue, restraining the regular beat of her heart.
A small, involuntary sound. Something between a whimper and gasp. Bryn didn’t know who’d made it. But her entire body ached with it. With Vivian.
Understanding hit all at once. The concept of being pulled apart to be rebuilt for a new purpose. Vivian’s hands, hot and hungry, running down her back had the power to deconstruct. Each swipe of her tongue was creation. A brush against canvas. A stake driven into steel.
Bryn gasped into Vivian’s mouth, but she didn’t stop. Vivian pulled Bryn flush against her. One hand making a tight fist in her hair and the other splayed over her lower back. Pulling her in. Pressing her closer. Closer. Closer like she might crawl inside of Bryn if she just tried a little harder.
