“I’m not arguing.”
“I was arrogant and pompous, trying to define your sexuality based on what I knew of you. Which is not something anyone can do for another person, but it was especially bad of me to do that to you, given what we’d shared. That is, while I knew you—or I thought I did—I have no idea how your life was as Allie. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m truly sorry.” She twisted her hands together and when she looked Allie in the face, her agonised expression tore a hole in the shell around Allie’s heart.
“I’ve seen Sophie,” Tarryn continued. “Talked with her. I went to her place before coming here. And I now understand why you pretended to be her. I had no idea…her suffering.” Her face twisted. “She’s incredibly stoic for what she’s going through.”
“She is.” The tendrils were now entwining themselves in her chest. She tried to stop their growth; this was, after all, still just an apology.
“I’m making a balls-up of this.” Tarryn pressed the bridge of her nose. “It’s not for me to offer my approval of your sexuality or your actions. Seeing Sophie’s condition for myself shouldn’t change anything. It’s entitled of me to think my acceptance somehow makes it right. It doesn’t. It still makes me an arrogant idiot. One who should havelistenedto you, trusted you, rather than jumping in with my own assumptions. I’m truly sorry, Allie. I was so rude to you. So self-absorbed, I made it all about me.”
“There was no reason you should have believed me—except we were friends. And my friends listen to me, or at least don’t automatically assume the worst.”
“I know. I’m—”
Allie cut her off with a slashing movement of her hand. “Don’t say you’re sorry again. Apology accepted, for what it’s worth. Is that why you came down here? To get my forgiveness?”
“Partly. But partly to see if you think…if you’ve wondered…if we can…” When she looked up again, her eyes had a distant, troubled look. “If we can make something of what we had.”
Allie blew out a breath. A relationship wasn’t a cake recipe. And even if she agreed, what would it mean? They had physical distance between them, as well as conflicting long-term goals for relationships—if they even got that far. “I’m not sure what you want. What exactly are you asking for?”
“How can I answer that?” Tarryn spread her hands. “You. Me. We’re so different. I’m not offering you a relationship. How can I…now. But I’m asking if you’d like to try.”
“With me in Sydney and you in Quandong?”
“I have flexibility. I’m here now, on a Monday. I’m not sure if you’ve found a job yet—”
“Not in a week,” Allie murmured.
“We could meet halfway. Use those Airbnb vouchers we were given. See what we can be.”
Allie swallowed. It sounded…tempting. Difficult, yes, but maybe a way forward. But she had to be sure. “And the next time something comes up, something that makes you doubt my truthfulness? What then? I don’t want to go through this again. I haven’t openly labelled my sexuality—I don’t see the need—but if you have a problem dating a bisexual or pansexual woman, then it’s best we end this now.”
“No! It’s not that. My reaction was because you weren’t truthful with me, not because you’ve dated men. Please believe me.”
“But what if you think I’m lying to you again? If you jump to conclusions, don’t listen—everything you did before—then this is over before we start.” Was she the stupid one here, slashing a line across what they might have before anything really began? But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—be with someone who didn’t trust her on an elemental level. That would eat away at her, the doubt, the insecurity, the worry. Better not to start something than to live through that.
“I trust you, Allie.” Tarryn heaved a deep breath. “I’m putting my heart in your hands. If you want it. I’ve never unreservedly given it before, but I’m handing it to you.”
The tendrils of hope unfurled into a sunflower, golden and glowing in her chest. She shuffled forward on the couch and reached a hand to Tarryn. “Are you sure?”
Tarryn stood, and the intensity in her dark eyes made Allie shiver. “I’m sure.”
Allie stood, too, and placed a palm on Tarryn’s cheek. “Then I’m willing to try. To see how we go.”
Tarryn’s eyes fluttered closed, then opened again to pin Allie with her gaze. “I’m going to give this my all. Something about you got me in here”—she thumped her chest with a closed fist—“grabbed on and won’t let go. Maybe it was the intensity of the fake wedding. But you were in my head before then.”
“Even when you were infuriating, you were fascinating.” Allie took another step closer. “But right now, I don’t want to talk.”
Tarryn’s breath feathered over her face. A gentle smile, and then they were kissing, and Allie let her kisses speak the words for her.
When they broke apart, Tarryn asked, “What happens now?”
“When you arrived, I was just about to order takeaway. I’d narrowed it down to sushi or Korean. Are you hungry?” At Tarryn’s nod, she said, “You choose.”
“Sushi.” Tarryn came in to kiss her again. Her lips moved softly, then with an assured demand over Allie’s. “Then, if we get distracted, we can put it in the fridge.”
“Good idea.” Allie’s lips tingled. Ordering sushi was the last thing she wanted to do right now. She wrapped her arms around Tarryn’s waist, pulling her close so their breasts pressed together. Trails of flame licked along Allie’s front, from her nipples down, coalescing between her thighs. Her heart swelled with emotion. Tarryn, who avoided entanglements, was seeking that very thing. She kissed her again, her tongue flicking over Tarryn’s lips until she opened her mouth and their kiss grew deeper. Her mind spun in joyful circles and she put her heart and soul into the kiss.
“No more lies,” she said when the kiss ended. “No more half-truths.”
