Rose almost smiled.
Outside, Craig and Loraine stood with their backs to the window. The afternoon light came through the shop front in long pale strips across the floor.
“Was it true?” Rose said. “What you told the camera.”
Lizanne looked at her.
“About wanting a family. Was that for the show or was it true?”
“It was true,” Lizanne said.
“You haven’t seemed very interested in Daisy,” Rose said. “I don’t mean that as a criticism. I just noticed.”
“Because you told me not to parent her. So I haven’t.” Lizanne looked at her directly. “I’ve been trying to stay inside what you asked for. You didn’t choose any of this—I pressured you into a marriage and a television show and moved you into my house. The least I could do was not push into your daughter’s life on top of all of that.”
Rose was quiet for a moment.
“I’m starting to think,” she said, “that being married to you is not the worst thing.”
Lizanne’s mouth moved. “High praise.”
“I mean it.”
“You have a very demanding business to run. I’m sure that’s the primary benefit.”
“There are other benefits,” Rose said. She took Lizanne’s hand.
Lizanne’s fingers closed around hers and they stood like that between the glassware and the linen throws while John finished his coffee outside and Loraine scrolled her tablet. Then Lizanne said, quietly, “The changing room is in the back.”
Rose looked at her. “That is not what I was suggesting.”
“There’s a dress I want to try on.”
“There is no dress.”
“There might be. They do have some in the next room.”
“Lizanne.”
“Rose.”
Rose glanced at the window. Loraine had her back to the shop. John was on his phone.
The changing room at the back was a single large cubicle with a velvet curtain and mirrors on three sides. Lizanne pulled the curtain across and turned, and Rose kissed her before she’d finished turning.
It was different from the pool house. Quieter. More deliberate. Lizanne kissed her back with both hands cupping her face.
Lizanne’s hands moved to her waist and pulled her in. They kissed slowly at first, then less slowly. Rose pulled Lizanne’s blouse loose from her waistband and her hands found the warm skin of her back and Lizanne made a quiet sound against her mouth. Lizanne pressed her back against the mirror and Rose felt the cold glass through her shirt and Lizanne’s warmth in front of her and the contrast of it, cold and warm, everywhere at once.
Lizanne drew back just enough to look at her. The mirrors gave Rose back her own face from three angles and she found she didn’t mind. Not with Lizanne looking at her like that.
“We have a few minutes at most before they come looking,” Rose said, against her jaw.
“I’m aware.” Lizanne’s hand slid to the waistband of her jeans. The button gave.
Rose stopped making arguments.
Lizanne’s fingers moved through her slowly and Rose’s head went back against the mirror. Lizanne pressed her mouth to her neck and stayed there, lips warm against her pulse, while her fingers kept moving. Rose gripped the back of her blouse and held on.
