𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 || ᴊᴇɴʟɪsᴀ

𝐭 𝐰 𝐞 𝐧 𝐭 𝐲 - 𝐨 𝐧 𝐞

I expected to feel different when we made love again, then woke as we always did twined together, her arm around my waist and her face in my hair. Or when we said goodbye with sweet kisses and promises to have a nice day. But I didn’t. I felt the same as I had since our first night in her apartment. I could have slapped myself for my stupidity, for dragging things out as long as I had.

Clare slipped into my office just after eight with mail and a fresh cup of coffee, while I was exchanging sexts with Lisa and texts with Rosé, and being very careful not to mix up the two. A notification pinged on my tablet.“Meeting with Mark Monday at ten a.m.” Why was he requesting a meeting Monday when I had a lunch appointment with him in a few hours? Note to self: ask Mark at lunch what’s going on. I confirmed it and reluctantly set aside my phone and suggestive banter to do some work.

All my mail had been sorted into work and non-work piles. Offers, contracts, agreements, and there were a few invitations—each one for Jennie Kim and Guest. Ordinarily I’d take Mark, but the realization Lisa could accompany me pleased me in a way I hadn’t thought possible.

I was engrossed in work until late morning when Clare came into my office, hidden behind a bunch of red, yellow and orange roses. She set them carefully on my desk. “These just came for you, Ms. Kim.” She looked obscenely pleased.

“Who from?”

“I’m not sure. The courier didn’t give a name.”

“Thanks.” There was an envelope of thick cream paper with nothing but my name on the front. I recognized the handwriting immediately. Lisa's scrawl. For someone so meticulous, she had such awful handwriting. Clare made a quiet exit while I opened my card.

I’ve been dying to send you flowers for months. Congratulations on finding yourself a hot girlfriend. See you tonight.
xo

I read it again, finger running over the words, and leaned down to bury my nose in the soft blooms. Silken petals brushed against my nose, as soft as a caress from the woman who’d sent them. They were beautiful, the scent incredible and I wondered for a moment if they’d been sprayed with something to make them smell so good. Mama would approve of the arrangement. Mama. Shit.

The Band-Aid approach was best for this one. Rip it off, get it out in the open. Still, I felt like I was about to confess to some horrible deed rather than possibly make her day. I could jam a phone call in now and use lunch with Mark as an excuse to get off the phone. The reservation wasn’t for another hour, but she wouldn’t know that.

She answered almost right away. “Hello, Bunny.”

“Hey, Mama.”

“Well this is a sweet and unexpected pleasure. How are you?”

“Just fine.” Except nervous. Stupidly nervous. I wiggled my toes against the inside of my shoes.

“You got some free time?”

“Yeah. Waiting to go to lunch. Thought I’d give you a call.” I stood up and walked over to the full-length window, staring down at John Street. Some guy dressed in what looked like, from this height, nothing but a tutu was walking a dog. New York. “Mama…”

“What’ve you done, Jennie?”

“What? Nothin’. What makes you think that?” I shifted my gaze out to the boats docked at the pier.

“You’re splutterin’ worse than that car of yours when I start it up. Spill.”

Goddammit. Head leaning against the window, I confessed, “Lisa and I are datin’. Officially.”

Mama’s squeal was so loud I had to move the phone away from my ear. They probably heard her at the front desk. “Oh, baby! I’m so happy for you two.” She was moving around the house, her shoes echoing on polished wooden floors, then muted on the rugs. “I told you. Didn’t I tell you? What happened?”