“I don’t have any. You used it all up.”
Sarah laughed against her skin and went back, and this time she didn’t hold back. She used her mouth and her tongue and the heel of her hand, pressing against Lizzie’s center while her mouth worked her clit, and the combination made Lizzie’s whole body arch off the bed. Sarah stayed with her, matching the rhythm of Lizzie’s hips, letting her set the pace while Sarah gave her everything she needed. Lizzie came with a cry that echoed off the bedroom walls, her hand fisting in Sarah’s hair, her thighs clamping around Sarah’s head for a breathless moment before going slack.
Sarah pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh and crawled back up. Lizzie pulled her in immediately, kissing her hard, tasting herself on Sarah’s mouth. Then she just held on, her face pressed into Sarah’s neck, her breathing ragged. Sarah stroked her hair and waited. She’d learned that Lizzie sometimes needed a minute afterward, not because anything was wrong, but because the intimacy overwhelmed her. Lizzie felt things so deeply. It was one of the reasons she was a good writer. It was one of the reasons Sarah loved her.
They lay tangled together, Lizzie’s head on Sarah’s chest, Sarah’s fingers combing through her hair. The ceiling fan turned above them in lazy circles and somewhere outside a rooster crowed because this was Key West and roosters didn’t care what day it was.
“The inn’s doing really well,” Lizzie said after a while. Her voice had that quiet roughness to it that always made Sarah want to start all over again.
“Fully booked through spring.” Sarah kissed the top of her head. “Are you worried about something?”
“Not worried, exactly. Just thinking about how different everything is now. Two years ago we were fighting for your reputation and your career, and I was trying to finish school remotely while pretending I wasn’t terrified about the future.” Lizzie traced a line along Sarah’s collarbone. “And now we have this place. We have a life.”
Sarah understood what she meant. Two years ago the lawsuit had still been hanging over them. Now they ran a bed and breakfast that Sarah had poured her heart into renovating—choosing every tile, every paint color, every piece of furniture. Lizzie had finished her creative writing degree remotely and her first novel had been published last year. It wasn’t a bestseller, but the reviews had been strong and the sales solid enough that her agent had landed her a contract for a second book.
Sarah had stepped back from her role as not only chairperson of the Barnes Hotel chain, but also from any connection to the Carlson Seaside. She remained the majority shareholder, however, but let others run the business. Jonathan, who had remained sober, had taken a gradually larger role in the business, with the two of them on better footing.
Derek had been fired eighteen months ago when the board discovered he’d been the one who originally approached the Gazette with information about Sarah. Not Cynthia, not some anonymous source. Sarah had felt nothing but relief, and maybe a small, petty flash of satisfaction she chose not to examine too closely.
“Your mom and Jasper are staying through the weekend?” Sarah asked, running her thumb along Lizzie’s shoulder.
“The whole weekend. Both her brothers are in college now, so it’s just the two of them, and Jasper’s been wanting to come down to Key West again since the wedding we went to last spring.” Lizzie propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Sarah with that expression she got when she was working up to something. “Maya texted me yesterday, by the way. She’s thinking about coming down next month for a long weekend.”
“That would be great. I liked her the last time she visited.” Maya had come down twice now from New York, Lizzie’s closest friend from college, and Sarah had genuinely enjoyed her company. She was loud and opinionated and made Lizzie laugh in a way that reminded Sarah of how young Lizzie still was sometimes—not in a bad way, but in a way that made Sarah grateful that Lizzie still carried that lightness despite everything they’d been through.
“And Chrisla said she can come over from Miami the same weekend if we want to make it a thing.”
Sarah smiled. Chrisla had moved to Miami a year ago after finishing nursing school, but she came back to visit regularly. She and Lizzie had stayed close, and Sarah was glad for it.
“We should plan something. Take them out on the water. Make a weekend of it.”
Lizzie grinned. “Look at you being social.”
“I can be social.”
“You can be social when I drag you into it.”
Sarah pinched her side and Lizzie yelped and rolled away, laughing. They settled back together, legs intertwined, and for a few minutes they just lay there listening to Key West waking up outside their window—a scooter buzzing past, someone calling out in Spanish, the clatter of the café two doors down setting out chairs.
“Have you checked your phone yet?” Lizzie asked, and there was something careful in her voice that made Sarah go still.
“No. Why?”
“Because Dr. Reeves said she’d call this weekend with the results.”
The air in the room changed. Sarah felt it in her chest, a tightening, a held breath. They’d been waiting for this call for two weeks. Their surrogate, a kind, steady woman named Grace whom they’d found through an agency in Fort Lauderdale, had done the embryo transfer eighteen days ago. Sarah and Lizzie had spent the last four days swinging between hope and dread, trying not to talk about it every five minutes and failing spectacularly.
“It’s Sunday.” Sarah’s heart was hammering. “She might not call today.”
“She said this weekend. She knows we’re going out of our minds.”
Sarah reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her lips parted. “There’s an email.” Sarah slipped next to Lizzie and wrapped her arm around her while opening the email with the other. And then, they both gasped.
“Grace is pregnant,” Lizzie whispered.
Sarah’s vision blurred.
“We’re having a baby,” Lizzie whispered.
