Vivian’s violets had taken over the guesthouse, now called the studio. She’d propagated so many that when they built a second booth for Bryn where the living room once was, and expanded Vivian’s booth to accommodate their duets, the place looked like a greenhouse with a kitchen.
There had never been a let’s-move-in-together conversation. Bryn had spent the night once and never really left. After a while, paying rent for nothing seemed stupid and because Vivian refused to let her contribute financially in the house, she’d been able to focus on narration full-time. Full-time except for when she drove Gloria around.
When Bryn entered the studio after taking out the garbage so Iris didn’t have to, she walked into a riot of purple flowers on every surface and Vivian standing at the sink. Not standing. Swaying to the song she was humming.
Grinning, Bryn slipped in behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. She perched her chin on Vivian’s shoulder and watched her rinse out the teapot. Two mugs of the potent licorice tea that still tasted like capital punishment sat steaming on the counter.
“Mark sent over more pickups for the tennis book,” Bryn said with a kiss to the back of Vivian’s neck.
“I saw,” she replied, unbothered.
Bryn giggled, already knowing where this was going. “Are you going to do them?”
“Obviously not,” Vivian replied sharply and dried her hands before turning. She rested her forearms on Bryn’s shoulders, fingers playing mindlessly with the hair at the base of Bryn’s neck. “If Mark and his team cannot distinguish between an error and an artistic choice, that’s a literacy problem, not a performance one.”
Even though she knew something like that was coming, Bryn still grimaced at the burn. “Damn, babe. The man has children.”
Vivian bit back her own amusement. “I don’t go to his house and tell him how to rear them.”
Bryn wrapped her arms around Vivian’s torso and pulled her in close. “How can someone be so sweet when no one is looking but?—”
“Bite your tongue,” Vivian warned, cheeks still pink from their morning swim.
Taking the bait eagerly with both hands, Bryn rocked onto her toes. “Bite it for me.”
Vivian smirked. “Again?”
Bryn’s groan rumbled in her throat. “You know I like it when you’re mean to me.”
“Me or Marlowe?” Vivian couldn’t resist bringing up her Siren alter-ego.
Marlowe hadn’t just surpassed Kelly Craves in likes and follows, she’d pushed some kink boundaries Bryn didn’t even know existed. The completely secret outlet, kept secret by moderate voice modulation to conceal Vivian’s identity, had opened up a new channel for Vivian. It had been incredible to witness, and jaw-dropping to participate in.
Marlowe and Kelly’s quarterly collaborations had actually broken the app the first time they debuted. Too many downloads initiated at the same time had done something to the servers. Vivian’s first time as a dominant had definitely done something to Bryn’s brain.
“I have that cosmic horror to start,” Bryn said after giving Vivian a peck on the lips and then reaching for her mug. “Or did you want to knock out the end of Yenni’s book?”
True to her word, Yenni Montoya had focused exclusively on sapphic romance. AfterMagpiesbecame a streaming hit and spawned a dozen copycats, there was no question she’d made the right choice. As promised, Bryn and Vivian were always the voices in Yenni’s head.
“Always finish what you have before you start something new,” Vivian said in her deep, slow Marlowe voice. It sent a rush of heat racing through Bryn’s body and it took all of her self-control not to set the mug down and drop to her knees for her favorite performer.
“I like to jump around.” Bryn wiggled her brows. “It keeps things exciting.”
Vivian looked at her over the rim of her mug while she sipped. With nothing but her dark eyes and darker intent, Vivian said Bryn would pay for that later. Entire body alive with anticipation, Bryn sure as hell hoped so.
In Vivian’s booth where two microphones were set up across from each other for tandem recording, Bryn opened her tablet and set it up on the stand under the mic. She adjusted her headphones and watched Vivian prepare the recording software.
Bryn would never get tired of this. She would never take this for granted. Working with the woman she loved, a front-row seat to the best performer she’d yet to meet, and the electric excitement of creating art with the person she trusted most in the world.
Vivian caught her staring. “Losing focus already?”
“I can’t help it,” Bryn confessed, exaggeratedly batting her eyes.
“Wildly unprofessional,” she replied dryly, her lack of a smile only making Bryn swoon harder.
“God, I love you,” Bryn sighed and she wasn’t even exaggerating.
Vivian’s cheeks flushed, a lopsided smile getting away from her. “Are you ready to work?” She put on her headphones.
