Lover. Micky had started reading a lesbian fiction novel the other day, and the two women who were falling in love referred to each other that way.
Robin stared at her, a big smile on her face. “That’s really great, honey.”
Honey. The term of endearment touched Micky disproportionally. Perhaps because her new lesbian lover had just cooked her dinner. After the supreme boost of self-confidence that coming out to Darren had delivered, Micky’s emotions were all over the place. She was happier than she’d been in a long time, but that didn’t stop her from realizing that her children’s happiness was also at stake. She couldn’t be completely happy until she’d told them and they had reacted in a good way.
“It really is, but I can’t relax until Chris and Liv know. So many more steps to take on this road to…” Micky didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to sound too overbearing, because Robin might have come back for her that night and set this whole process in motion, but it was mid-April now, the leaves on the trees outside were already starting to turn, which left them with only seven and a half months together. What seemed like an eternity before, because of so many mitigating factors and unspoken feelings and insecurities, now seemed like a cruelly short stretch of time.
“That might be so, Micky, but you’re taking the steps, and you’re taking them swiftly and confidently, and I’m so proud of you.”
“Goodwin Stark’s Diversity Manager’s lover can hardly be a closet case now, can she?”
Robin pulled her lips into a smile. “Lover? Really?”
“What would you call me?” Micky put down her fork.
“Anything but that. Girlfriend, I guess.”
“I’m forty-four years old. Can I really be someone’s girlfriend?”
“My woman-friend then,” Robin said. “Or my vixen. Or better, my insatiable vixen.” Robin wiggled her eyebrows up and down.
“Oh, stop it. I’m trying to have a serious conversation,” Micky jokingly berated Robin. “Lover.”
“Well, then, lover, you’d better live up to your name later.” Robin winked at her.
Micky just stared at her blankly.
“Did I freak you out with the prospect of having the entire weekend together to have the most earth-shattering sex?” Robin asked.
“No.” A frisson of suspended lust crept up Micky’s spine. “It’s just that on this day of speaking truths and all that—and I know what I’m about to say is way too premature and silly, but today of all days, it’s only apt that I refuse to hold back my true feelings.” Dramatically, Micky brought a hand to her chest. “We have this weekend because the kids are at Darren’s. There are seven and a half months left in the year, so roughly thirty weekends which, divided by two, gives us fifteen more weekend like this together.”
“Will you be counting the orgasms next?” Robin tensed, her neck straightening and that little groove between her eyebrows deepening.
“I’m sorry, but I would be lying if I sat here and claimed I don’t have a problem with this, with us and the time we have left together, being finite. And I know I’m moving too fast, I’m truly well aware of it, but I feel I have so much life to catch up on that it seems to be the only way to go for me. I’ll be introducing you to my children soon, and whatever will I say to them? Meet Robin, my short-term lover?” As soon as she was done pouring out her heart, a wave of anguish traveled through Micky. She knew this was the opposite of what Robin wanted. Robin had told her this was exactly the sort of drama she wanted to avoid. But damn it, Robin had been the one to come knocking on her door, steeped in the knowledge that Micky would never turn her away. Grand gestures followed by obliterating climaxes were all well and good, but what would Micky end up with ultimately? She didn’t need the broken heart that saying good-bye to Robin would cause.
“Hey.” Robin’s hand traveled the width of the table, then reached for Micky’s. “Things have changed for me too. I know I said all those things to you, and they were true for me at the time, but I do also distinctly remember saying that I had never met anyone for whom I wanted to stay and alter the course of my life. And, oh yes, it’s still early days and way too soon to start talking about this in other than vague terms, but I’m unattached, Micky. The biggest reason for me wanting to move back home at the end of the year is to plant roots, to not have to up-end my life every time my job takes me elsewhere, but nothing is set in stone, and who knows, maybe by then I will have planted some roots here?”