“Mmm.” Jules shifted in her seat. She picked up her wine, eyeing Catherine over the glass as she drew a slow sip. Under Jules’s gaze, Catherine’s mouth went dry, so she mirrored her and drank.
“Well, I think you helped to change her mind.”
Catherine cocked her head. “How so?”
Jules let out a soft laugh. “Can you imagine her disappointment when she found out I didn’t like whisky? Well, double that when she found out I didn’t like men.”
Catherine mock-gasped. “You don’t like whisky?”
“Ach, no!” Jules smiled, but something sad lingered beneath it. “I’m more of a gin lass.”
Catherine frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise Bridie had a problem with… I mean, she mentioned you, of course, and I knew the two of you had drifted apart, but she never told me why. She never mentioned you were?—”
“Gay? No, she was mortified by it. But you won her over.”
“I don’t see what I did.”
“She got to know you and realised that we lesbians aren’t as awful as she’d once assumed.” Jules shrugged and drained the wine in her glass.
“It must have been difficult for you. I can understand why you kept your distance.”
Jules refilled her glass and emptied the rest of the bottle into Catherine’s.
“You didn’t explain how you knew who I was.”
“Ah! Yeah… that.” Jules grimaced. “All of Mum’s mentionitis about her lovely wee doctor friend sparked my curiosity.” She drew in a breath and exhaled her next words in a rush, like she was trying to breathe them out of the room. “So, I got to researching you a bit.”
Catherine laughed. “You did what?”
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t doing a number on her and swindling me out of my inheritance. I found your Facebook profile, but figured you weren’t really on there much as you only had six friends.”
No, that’s about the measure of it.Catherine blinked.
“Then I found your company website — Truscote and Dulson?”
“Dalton.”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Jules gestured at Catherine with her fork and grinned. “Nice photo of you on there.”
Catherine knew the one; itwasa nice photo of her. Jeremy had suggested they get professional shots taken when they updated the website. After her initial reluctance, she agreed. She turned up for the shoot looking austere, wearing a black roll-neck jumper and dark-rimmed glasses framing her face. But right before the photographer released the shutter, she complimented the angles of Catherine’s cheekbones and the distinctive blue of her eyes, which resulted in Catherine’s lips curving into the smile she’d captured in the photo. She agreed to a drink with her afterwards. They shared a bottle of wine and almost kissed, but Catherine glimpsed the woman’s wedding ring and pumped the brakes…Once bitten!
When she emerged from the memory, Jules was staring at her with a deep line etched between her brows. “I’m sorry I overstepped. I shouldn’t have done that, or at least I should’ve introduced myself when I first realised?—”
“Well, I’m just surprised you recognised me from one photo.”
Jules flashed her a sheepish smile. “You are quite distinctive.”
Despite the compliment, Catherine’s smile faded. Should she be flattered or alarmed by Jules’s revelation? She stared at the flickering candle whilst trying to decide. In the low light, shadows danced on the walls, making the already intimate space feel even smaller. When she looked back at Jules, her cheeks were glowing,flushed with either embarrassment or something else entirely.
“I’ve made it weird, haven’t I?” Jules grimaced again.
Silence crept in, putting the conversation in a chokehold. Catherine stared at the candle again. Hadn’t she been just as bad? She’d built the woman’s flatpack without being asked, she’d snooped through a stack of postcards, and she’d ogled Jules’s underwear, imagined her in it even. A wave of mortification washed over her.
Juniper sauntered back into the room, announcing himself with a meow before dramatically flopping onto the rug. They both turned to look at him as he contorted himself like a furry pretzel and began what could only be described as an aggressive act of personal hygiene.
“Will says he wishes he could do that. Lick his own balls, that is, not Juniper’s.”
Catherine stifled a laugh, and it came out like a hiccup. Jules met her gaze, her lips curving in a small, uneven smile.
