"You… want a shower?" Sabrina Myers repeated, just to be sure.
This was not the kind of thing she could help with. She might seem rough around the edges most of the time, but she knew perfectly well where the lines were. She didn't know if Natalie Pierce was straight or not—but she knew damn well that she wasn't.
Unless Natalie could bathe herself—and clearly, in her current state, that was impossible.
But when Sabrina asked the second time, the answer never came.
Natalie lay there on the sofa, eyes closed, breathing light and shallow. It looked like she had already sunk back into sleep.
"You fall asleep fast, don't you," Sabrina murmured, the corner of her mouth quirking.
She stood in the middle of the living room for a moment, thinking.
The couch, no matter how soft, was still a couch. It was narrow, with no guardrails, and drunk people rolled. One wrong turn and Natalie could easily tumble off and crack her head. Definitely not ideal.
Decision made, Sabrina stepped forward, lifted Natalie's arm over her own shoulder, hoisted her up in one clean motion, and carried her toward the stairs.
She nudged open the door of a guest room, half-holding, half-guiding her to the bed. Carefully, she lowered Natalie onto the mattress, then crouched to tug off her cream ankle boots one by one.
She stepped out and into her own room, grabbed a pack of makeup remover wipes and a fresh towel, and headed back.
Dragging a chair over to the bed, Sabrina sat down and pulled out a wipe. She pressed it gently to Natalie's cheek, slowly erasing the faint traces of makeup from her face.
The makeup had never been heavy; before and after didn't look all that different. But Natalie's skin was naturally luminous, her pores fine, her features delicate. Without the cosmetics, she looked even cleaner, almost translucent.
Like a lotus rising untouched from the water.
When she was done, Sabrina folded the soft towel and used it to carefully wipe Natalie's face and hands. As the corner brushed under her chin, Natalie's brows knit together and she turned her face the other way, like a cat twitching away from an unexpected touch.
Sabrina watched her in silence for a few seconds, then glanced at the thick layers of clothing covering her.
Maybe that was why she looked so uncomfortable.
She set the towel aside, leaned in, and slowly began undoing the buttons on Natalie's coat.
Natalie was tall, but her frame was small; she felt almost weightless. Paper-thin. Sabrina had no trouble at all sliding an arm around her back, lifting her just enough to ease the coat off her shoulders.
She tossed the bulky coat onto a nearby chair and gently let Natalie sink back into the bed. Then she pulled the comforter up over her, tucking it around her sides, and picked up the towel again, ready to leave.
That was when she noticed it.
Natalie's brows were still drawn tight.
Her eyes were closed, but beneath the lids, her pupils kept darting back and forth. The telltale twitch of someone deep in a dream.
Given her expression, it didn't look like a pleasant one.
"What are you seeing in there?" Sabrina muttered, her face tightening as she studied her.
Natalie's face turned toward her, the strain deepening. Her lips parted.
"I can change…" she whispered, barely audible. "I can change…"
Just that one sentence, not nearly enough for Sabrina to piece together the details. Maybe it was about her family. Maybe a past relationship.
The only thing certain was this: whatever she was dreaming, it hurt.
Her expression grew more and more distressed. Her jaw clenched, her teeth sinking into her lip as though she were trying to keep something inside. It looked like she was trying to wake up and couldn't—held down by the weight of alcohol, like chains wrapped around her thoughts.
"Don't treat me like that… please… don't…"
Sweat broke out across her forehead, tiny beads glistening in the low light. Her breathing turned uneven, like she was fighting for air.
"This is just…" Sabrina tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling for a second, exasperated and oddly helpless. "What exactly have you been through?"
The towel thudded softly onto the nightstand as she tossed it aside.
Then she lifted the edge of the comforter and slid under it.
Rolling onto her side to face Natalie, Sabrina hesitated only a moment before reaching out. She hooked an arm around her, pulling her firmly into her chest.
"I don't know what you're seeing right now," she said quietly, her palm settling between Natalie's shoulder blades, "but… you don't have to be scared. I'm here."
Maybe it was the steadiness in her voice, the way each word fell slow and sure. Maybe it was the heat of her body, or the pressure of that secure, unyielding hold.
Whatever it was, it worked.
The tension in Natalie's face eased little by little. Her breathing evened out. The dream-mutterings faded, crumbling away into silence.
Sabrina sighed and kept rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades, lips pressed into a thin line.
Most of the time, she was not the type to get tangled up in other people's pain. Life was easier when you stood back and let everyone deal with their own mess.
But with Natalie… it was different. Watching her twist in the grip of a nightmare, Sabrina felt something in her own chest pinch and throb, sharp and useless.
She closed her eyes and tightened her arms around her, holding on as if she could keep the world away just by staying there.
—
Morning.
When Natalie slowly clawed her way back to consciousness, the first thing she noticed was how dry her mouth and throat were, like someone had poured desert sand down her esophagus.
But the discomfort vanished in an instant when she opened her eyes.
She and Sabrina were in the same bed.
Not only that—Sabrina was still holding her. Firmly. Natalie was cradled against her like something precious and fragile.
What happened last night?
The last thing she remembered was Sabrina telling her to come inside for some milk—and then going in after her.
Everything after that was a blur. A blank page.
She was just trying to quietly slip away when Sabrina suddenly shifted.
Before she could escape, the arm around her waist tightened, pulling her back in. Their bodies lined up again, flush and close, heat spreading wherever they touched.
Sabrina tipped her chin down and rested it lightly on top of Natalie's head, the warmth of it seeping straight through her skull, pinning her in place.
Every nerve in Natalie's body went rigid.
"S—" Her lips felt dry, clumsy. She wet them and tried again. "Sabrina… are you awake?"
"Mm…?" Sabrina's voice was thick with sleep and lingering nasal, low and rough.
Natalie didn't know what else to say. Her spine stayed ramrod straight, like any movement might trigger something she wouldn't know how to handle.
After a long moment, Sabrina's lashes fluttered and she cracked her eyes open.
"Awake?" she murmured.
"Yes." Natalie nodded quickly, like a bobblehead. "Yeah."
She was so warm she thought she might actually start sweating. Even her palms felt hot.
"I…" Her thoughts were a mess, words colliding in her throat. "I should get up."
That seemed to finally pull Sabrina into full awareness. She loosened her arm at once."Okay."
Even with the hold gone, Natalie was still afraid to breathe too loudly.
She pushed herself upright and leaned back against the headboard, turning her face away as she glanced sideways at Sabrina.
"Last night, did we…" She trailed off, unable to wrap language around the worry knotting her stomach.
"Hmm?" Sabrina rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, then braced both palms against the mattress and sat up too. "What about last night?"
Natalie looked down at her own clothes—crumpled, but intact. Then at Sabrina's.
"Did we… do anything… inappropriate?" she managed.
Sabrina's fox-like eyes narrowed just slightly, amusement glinting there as she tilted her head, studying her."And what exactly counts as 'inappropriate'?" she asked lazily.
Natalie's heartbeat stuttered. She couldn't bring herself to spell it out, not out loud like this.
Her teeth worried her lower lip, releasing only when she realized just how hot her cheeks felt. Even her ears were burning; she could feel the flush creeping up the tips.
Sabrina laughed under her breath and let her gaze linger on those flushed earlobes."You said you wanted a shower," she reminded her.
"What?" Natalie's head snapped around. "And… and then?"
Did Sabrina help her? Did she—
Sabrina's mouth curved. "What do you think might have happened?" she asked. "Or is it that you think I'd do something to you?"
The question made Natalie's brain short-circuit.
"That's not— I just thought…" she faltered, every sentence collapsing halfway through. Anything she said felt wrong, like stepping into a trap of her own making.
Sabrina's laughter deepened, low and warm.
"You really think I'm the type to take advantage of someone like that?" she asked softly. "Hmm?"
The directness of it made Natalie's face grow even hotter.
"Nothing happened," Sabrina said at last, her tone turning matter-of-fact. "I washed your face, that's all. Then you started having a nightmare and looked terrified, so I held you. I just wanted you to feel a little better."
So that was it.
Of course that was it. If anything serious had happened, there was no way she'd still be fully clothed.
"Yeah, I confessed to you. Yeah, I like women." Sabrina leaned her head back and rolled her neck, stretching out the stiffness. "But I'm not so desperate that I'd jump you just because you're there. Especially when you're drunk and I'm not."
The more Natalie listened, the worse she felt.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I was just asking. Forget I said anything, okay?"
Sabrina's eyes softened. "Okay," she said simply.
"Then…" Natalie tossed back the covers and got to her feet. "I'll get going."
"You don't want to stay for breakfast?" Sabrina asked.
"No, I…" Natalie grabbed onto the first excuse that floated by. "I'm meeting someone."
She wasn't. She just had no idea how to stay in this house, in this air, while her thoughts thrashed around like loose wire. The more time she spent near Sabrina, the more tangled everything became.
Sabrina watched her for a second, then nodded. She didn't push.
Half an hour later, washed and dressed, Natalie stepped out of the house and closed the door softly behind her.
She pressed a hand to her chest and drew a deep breath.
She really was getting stranger by the day.
The memory of last night's dream shivered through her.
First, she'd seen her family again. Then—somewhere inside that murky chaos—she'd dreamed that she and Sabrina were together. Dating. For a while, it had felt so real.
Until, in the dream, Sabrina got tired of her.
It had been awful. A nightmare in the truest sense.
She didn't know what was wrong with her recently. Why her mind kept circling the same impossible thoughts, chickening out and coming back again, like she was teetering on the edge of a whirlpool. One misstep, and she'd be dragged under.
Terrifying. Just… terrifying.
She shook her head sharply, as if that could dislodge the images, and walked faster, almost fleeing down the street.
—
Back in Skylark, once Grace and Oakley returned from their trip, daily life rushed back in like a tide.
Grace barely had time to breathe. She'd tried to clear as much work as she could before they left, but the moment she stepped back into the office, a whole new wave of tasks crashed over her.
By Thursday afternoon, Oakley was alone and bored.
With nothing to do at home, she drove out to a nearby supermarket.
The holidays were coming. The store had already gone all-in on festive mode: red and gold trimmings everywhere, shelves stacked high with gift boxes, every aisle drenched in the warm glow of decorations. Holiday music flowed through the speakers, jaunty and repetitive, wrapping everything in a familiar, slightly cheesy cheer.
People always said the place with the strongest holiday spirit these days wasn't the town square or the church.
It was the supermarket.
She'd only meant to grab some fruit and head back.
But with all this time on her hands, once she'd picked out apples and berries and dumped them into her cart, she let herself wander.
When she turned into the home goods aisle, a wave of perfumed air greeted her—detergents, soaps, candles all mingling together. Rows of perfectly aligned shelves stretched out before her, every color and size, every brand jockeying for attention.
Oakley pushed her cart slowly along until she stopped in front of a section full of toothbrush holders and mugs.
These days, every industry was in an arms race over aesthetics. Nothing was allowed to be boring anymore. Big appliances had to be sleek and aspirational; even tissues and trash bags came in curated colors.
And the couples' items… those were everywhere.
She lifted her gaze and spotted several sets of matching mugs.
Once upon a time, she'd rolled her eyes at stuff like that. When people around her started dating and insisted on buying couple's phone cases, couple's blankets, couple's everything, she'd silently wondered what the point was. Especially in college—every time she got dragged along to help friends pick out matching trinkets "for the aesthetic," she just couldn't relate.
Yet here she was, lingering in front of a wall of couples' toothbrush cups and slippers like a complete hypocrite.
She reached out and picked up two rinsing cups.
One black, one white. Each had a little bear printed on the side: the black cup with a white bear, the white cup with a black bear. Same design, different colors and expressions.
Ridiculously cute.
Oakley could picture them immediately—one tucked on Grace's side of the sink, the other on hers.
These felt like something they'd both genuinely like.
She put them carefully into the cart.
Once she started, it was hard to stop. She drifted farther down the aisle, inspecting pairs of electric toothbrushes, couples' bath towels, matching house slippers. Every new "set" felt like a little daydream: two people sharing a space, their lives intertwined even in the smallest routines.
By the time she finally headed to the checkout, the cart was packed full—practical things, silly things, purely sentimental things. Looking at it made her feel absurdly satisfied, like she'd just bought herself an armful of tiny futures.
She paid, hauled everything to the parking garage, stuffed the bags into the trunk, and drove home.
Once there, she unpacked everything and put each item in its place—cups in the bathroom, slippers by the bed, towels folded neatly in the closet. Watching their home quietly absorb all these "two-person" details, she felt, more than ever, that she and Grace were truly a family now.
The feeling was… indescribably good.
She'd just finished tidying up when her mom's video call popped up on her phone.
Oakley stepped out of the bathroom, wiped her hands, and accepted the call. She flopped down on the couch, propping the phone up and sing-songing,"Hi, Mom~"
Her mother appeared on the screen in a white faux-fur coat, dark hair falling in gentle waves to her collarbones. Simple earrings winked in the light every time she moved. There was a familiar, elegant warmth to her smile—polished, confident, the kind that could talk down a boardroom and then kiss you on the forehead in the same hour.
"Oakley, darling, when are you coming home for the holidays this year?" she asked, her voice smooth, warm as polished stone.
She'd already flown back to the country, but not to Skylark. She and Oakley's father ran their domestic branch elsewhere.
Oakley thought of Grace immediately.
"Probably New Year's Eve," she said. "One of my brand deals hit a snag. Looks like it'll be a few days before everything arrives. I can only shoot once I actually have the product."
She sighed.
The brand's internal team must have changed hands or something. They'd never been this messy before, but the last couple of collaborations had all gone sideways in some way.
This time, first they'd claimed the shipment hadn't arrived and made her wait. Then, when the package finally showed up, she found a defective product inside and had to send it back.
By the time a proper item landed on her doorstep again, it was already today.
Getting the shoot done and approved would probably take her right up to the thirty-first.
"Soon enough," her mom calculated silently, eyes half narrowed. "I'll be waiting."
She sighed again, more dramatically this time.
"I think I've only seen you… what, two, three times this year?"
Once in March, once in May, once in September—and that was it.
"Yeah, well, that can't be helped, can it?" Oakley shrugged. "You're the busy one. When you're not buried in your own stuff, you're helping Dad with his. And it's year-end; everything's chaos. Even if I wanted to see you, you hardly have time."
Her mother pressed her lips together, looking genuinely guilty.
"Put that way, I really do feel bad." Oakley burst out laughing.
"I'm kidding. I'm a grown-up now, remember? I'm not that little girl who used to sulk over every tiny thing. I can understand."
How should she describe her own childhood?
On paper, she'd been incredibly lucky: the center of the family orbit, rarely scolded, never hit. Even her mistakes were handled with patient explanation rather than anger.
Her parents had been good to her. Really good.
But they also hadn't always been around.
Especially when she was very young, they were constantly on the road. Out of three hundred sixty-five days, they were gone for about three hundred of them, chasing deals, building their careers.
For several years, Oakley's world consisted mostly of herself and the nanny.
And the nanny… did not have the best temperament. She snapped easily, yelling at the smallest thing. Oakley spent a lot of days with her stomach in knots, wanting to complain but terrified to do it.
Whenever she mustered up the courage to say, I'm going to tell my parents, the nanny would lean in and whisper awful things.
Everyone, she'd say, had to suffer a little in life. Kids who ran and tattled over small matters were bad kids. Bad kids, when they died, would be thrown into a boiling cauldron in hell's kitchen and fried up like meatballs.
Oakley had been so small. With no real framework for logic or justice, she'd swallowed it whole.
Day after day, she lived in the nanny's threats and the envy she felt for classmates whose parents held their hands after school. There was a period when she genuinely resented her own.
Until, one day, she decided she'd rather fry in hell with the nanny than keep quiet.
She told her parents everything.
And that nightmare finally ended.
From that moment, her mom and dad realized just how badly they'd messed up. The guilt never fully left their faces when they looked at her. No matter how busy they were after that, if Oakley said she missed them, one of them would make time. No excuses.
"Anyway," her mom said now, smiling again, "you take care of yourself first. When you're back for the holidays, we'll have a proper girls' night, just you and me."
Then, as if she'd just remembered something, she added, "And Grace will be coming too, right?"
"Of course," Oakley said immediately. "I'm bringing her with me. Her family—" She snorted. "Let's just say my parents are a better deal at this point."
They were married now. Even if Grace spent the holiday with Oakley's side of the family, Devin Barron and Hannah Barron weren't exactly in a position to complain.
Honestly, what right did they have to say anything?
"Good," her mom said, visibly pleased. "I can't wait to finally meet her properly."
She'd already bought quite a few presents for Grace and was secretly looking forward to seeing the look on her face when she opened them.
After they hung up, Oakley stretched, reached over the coffee table, and grabbed a bag of chips. She'd just fished one out, about to pop it into her mouth, when she heard the sound of the front door downstairs.
She glanced out the window and saw Grace's sleek black car pulling into the garage.
A few minutes later, the door opened.
"Grace!" Oakley waved from the couch. "I heard Skyline Street looks amazing right now. Let's go check it out tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow night?" Grace paused, halfway through taking off her shoes.
"Yeah. Why?" Oakley set the chip down slowly. "You have plans?"
Grace finished changing and walked over, fingers brushing a bit of dust off her coat sleeve."Jeff MacAdam asked me to have dinner with him tomorrow," she said. "He's leaving Skylark the day after, and he's been trying to meet for months. I've had to cancel on him a few times already. I can't really push it again."
She had originally wanted to drag Sabrina along too, but Sabrina was slammed at work and had no time. Plus, she and Jeff had already caught up once. That left Grace as the one who still owed him face time.
"Jeff MacAdam?" Oakley munched the chip, brow furrowing. "Who?"
The name meant absolutely nothing to her. She was almost certain she'd never heard Grace mention him before.
"A guy I was pretty close to in college," Grace said, reaching into the bag and stealing a chip. "We were in the same student group. When you're running a club together, you end up doing each other a lot of favors."
They'd kept in touch afterward, but with jobs, distance, and different cities, their meetings had become rare.
"I see." Oakley's shoulders drooped just a little.
They hadn't had much time together lately. Grace was always getting home late, worn out from work. When she'd said she'd be free tomorrow night, Oakley had gotten excited—she'd already planned what they could eat, where they could walk, even which photos she wanted to take.
Now, suddenly, there was someone else in the picture. Someone with history.
It was hard not to feel a little disappointed.
Grace dusted her fingers together and glanced at her."The plan is seafood," she said. "Your favorite. Want to come with us?"
Oakley froze mid-chew.
So Grace had intended to bring her along all along.
Just like that, the clouds in her chest parted. The drizzle dried up. Sunshine rushed back in, warm and unapologetic.
"Seafood?" As someone whose love for shellfish bordered on religious, Oakley's eyes lit up. "I mean… yeah, that sounds great. But did he invite me?"
"What does that matter?" Grace asked. "You're my wife. If you want to come, you come."
She'd already warned Jeff over text that she might bring her "plus one" along.
"Okay, then." Oakley tossed another chip into her mouth, then hesitated. "So it'll be the three of us?"
She didn't mind eating with strangers, but if there were going to be many of them, she wanted to brace herself in advance.
"His sister will be there too," Grace added.
"His sister?" Oakley's brows twitched upward.
"Yeah. You've met her, actually," Grace said, rubbing at her chin as she thought. "Jane MacAdam—the girl who asked for my apptalk when we were traveling last time."
Oakley's memory was… selective. Anything that didn't matter much to her got automatically archived to oblivion.
But after a moment, the pieces clicked.
"Wait," she said slowly. "Do you mean that girl who asked for your contact info?"
Divination hadn't been wrong that day—first the fortune-teller had warned her about Grace's strong "romantic aura," and then, like clockwork, Jane had appeared. Oakley could still remember how that girl had come over with her cutesy voice and glued-on sweetness.
Very much giving trying to flirt.
"That's the one," Grace confirmed.
Oakley popped another chip and chewed, the crispy sound snapping sharply in the quiet living room. She licked a crumb from the corner of her lip with the tip of her tongue, and her brows pulled together a little.
"What's wrong?" Grace asked, watching her carefully. "First impression wasn't great, so you don't want to go?"
"Who says I don't want to go?" Oakley's eyes flashed. "Tomorrow night, you come pick me up."
Grace smiled. "Done. It's a date. I'm going to shower first, okay?"
"Okay."
Oakley watched her head upstairs, then turned back to her chips, stuffing a few more into her mouth.
After a moment, she sighed and shook her head at herself.
Seriously. What was she doing, thinking about it this much?
Since when had she become one of those people constantly worried someone was going to swoop in and steal their wife?
Terrifying.
And, just a little bit… funny.