"Something like that."

Ellie sat down on the edge of the desk, pushing the book aside. "How was dinner with Eric and Elvis?"

"Wonderful. They ended up talking martial arts movies. Sandhya and I drank red wine and watched them."

"Fabulous! Can I pick them for you or what? I'll be generous and not even mention that a few days ago you weren't going to see her again. Have you bought her a new leather jacket yet?"

"No," Rosalind said, rubbing her temples.

"You okay, sweetie? You look pale." Ellie leaned over the desk.

The office was hazy, the air gray and thick as the inside of a sh.e.l.l. Rosalind felt like she was sitting in the center of a merry-go-round watching the world spin out of focus. "Yeah, I'm okay. I have this killer headache I can't shake. I had these weird dreams last night, but I can't remember what they were about. It's got me in a funny mood. I'll be all right after I get this cla.s.s over with."

She managed to make it through cla.s.s despite the headache, despite the lingering feeling of anxiety. Everything was going extremely well, she reminded herself. So why did she feel like the world was about to crumble away beneath her feet? Taryn was home waiting for her. There was no reason to feel the blind panic that rose up at the thought of Taryn.

She drove to 34 Mariner very calmly, parked the Saturn very calmly, and managed not to bolt up the stairs. For once, Joe wasn't sitting on the porch. He must be a morning person, Rosalind thought, with a corner of her mind. She used the key, letting herself in a door she expected to groan on its hinges like a horror movie, but it was well oiled.

"Rosalind! Hi." It was Goblin, stretched out on the couch, her long legs draped over the arm. She held a book at arm's length from her face and squinted at it, her gla.s.ses on the floor.

"Can you see that way?" Rosalind asked, unaware that she had just sounded exactly like her mother, in tone and delivery.

"Sorta," Goblin said, bringing the book closer. "I wanted to see if I could see without my gla.s.ses. You looking for T, right?"

Rosalind spoke as casually as she could, for all the leaping her heart was doing. "Yes."

"She's up on the third floor with Joe, sweating with the oldie."

"At this hour?" Rosalind asked, glancing up the stairs.

"T had rehearsal all night." Goblin said, as if that explained everything. "Joe took her to the mall today. They bought a new suit. I shouldn't tell you, but Taryn looked gorgeous. She wanted to surprise you." Goblin swung her legs off the arm of the couch and sat up. She patted the cushion and Rosalind obliged, sitting down next to her. "Potato chip? I have to finish them and hide the bag before Rhea finds it. She thinks I eat too much junk." Goblin held up a bag.

"No, thanks."

Goblin drew out a handful of chips, then rolled the bag, hiding it behind a cushion. "T told me about the key. You took it, right?" Goblin asked, glancing at Rosalind's face.

"I sure did," Rosalind said with a big smile.

"Good. She's a lot happier since she met you. It's kinda funny to watch. Like you're housebreaking her. She bought another surprise today, but I promised I wouldn't tell that." Goblin reached down and fished her gla.s.ses from the floor.

"I guess I'll just have to find out for myself. What are you reading?"

"Tolkien. Joe says he used to read it to me in my crib. It was the only thing that would calm me down when I cried. You ever read it?" Goblin held up the book, The Hobbit.

Rosalind shook her head, sheepishly. "I have to admit, I haven't. I never read a lot of fantasy."

The look Goblin gave her over the rim of her gla.s.ses mixed pity and disbelief. "We'll fix that. Who wants the world the way it is?"

Footsteps came from the kitchen, the sound of bare feet on a well-polished wooden floor. Goblin pushed the bag of chips down further in the couch.

Rosalind felt a touch on her back and turned around. Rhea was standing at the end of the room, one hand on the archway between the living room and the hall. She looked tired. Her hair was bound up in a braid. It made her look smaller with the wild strands restrained. Her eyes were opaque as jet, brooding. "Rosalind. I was expecting you. Would you...join me for a cup of tea?"

Rosalind patted Goblin on the knee. "I'll take a rain check on the book." She followed Rhea down the hall.

"Goblin, no more chips," Rhea said, not looking at her Rhea poured hot water into Taryn's blue gla.s.s mug and set it in front of Rosalind. The gesture wasn't lost on Rosalind, who pulled the mug closer. Rhea sat down opposite, curling her hands around her own teacup. The silence was as awkward as a wake. Rosalind thought that Rhea must know about the key and had called this conference to register a protest.

Rhea looked up, the corners of her eyes crinkling without mirth. "Do you know what Joe and Taryn are upstairs doing?"

"Working out, or so Goblin told me."

Rhea shook her head. "They are working, but not lifting weights. They are putting together the frame for Taryn's new bed." Rhea watched Rosalind as the realization slipped into focus. "Yes. She went out and bought a bed today. She said, quote, Rosalind is too good to keep sleeping on the floor. It was too big for the alcove she sleeps in. So she moved up to the third floor. Because you took the key."

"She said she wouldn't expect anything," Rosalind said, and Rhea snorted.

"You know better. She thinks with her heart. And her heart is yours."

"I don't-"

"How is your head?" Rhea asked, changing directions.

"It's fine," Rosalind said, despite the solid tempo of the pain.

Rhea nodded, looking out at the kitchen with what Rosalind might have called wistfulness in any other person. On Rhea that look read as grief, or barely stilled rage.

Rhea hadn't invited her in for a cup of tea and a little chat. "Look, Rhea, I know you disapprove of Taryn and me. You can't be happy about the key."

"You have invaded my home. You have taken from me what I am not ready to give up. And you think a key would make me unhappy?" Rhea said quietly.

Rosalind sat, stunned.

One thin hand raked through Rhea's wild hair. "Forgive me. You can't know, I've seen to-Never mind. We are adults, Rosalind. We both love Taryn. I expect we can be civil. Go on, she's waiting for you," Rhea said. Rosalind knew that she'd been dismissed.

The pain in her head was a spike. The cryptic conversation with Rhea had intensified it. Her mood was dangerously unbalanced. She felt herself yearn for Taryn, as if being near her might bring her back to herself. With that half-conscious hope, Rosalind climbed the back stairs from the kitchen, listening to the sounds of furniture being moved above. She heard Joe grunt, then a thud. Taryn's voice ripped out an oath and a warning. Rosalind nearly laughed and spoiled her entrance. She hesitated in the doorway, getting a good look at the s.p.a.ce.

The third floor was one large room, running the length of the house. She'd known that the third floor was the weight room and Joe's office, but she hadn't been up to see it. From what she could tell, Taryn and Joe had been busy. The weight bench was gone; Joe's desk and file cabinets were gone. She recognized Taryn's dresser and piles of clothing, but not the rug set down over the hardwood floor, not the bed that dominated the domestic s.p.a.ce being constructed.

Taryn and Joe had been maneuvering the dresser. Taryn was leaning on it, arms folded, while Joe bent down, looking at the legs.

"Break anything?" Rosalind asked, and was gratified to see what an effect the sound of her voice had on them. Joe jumped. Taryn looked like someone had lit her on fire. The smile that came over her was almost painful to look at, the emotion so raw and unshielded. She glowed with it, her whole body echoing it, extending a welcome automatic and complete. Rosalind felt very lucky to be on the receiving end of that look.

"Hey. Thought you'd be later," Taryn said, taking a step toward Rosalind.

"Not that you were expecting anything." Rosalind reached out and took her hand as she spoke.

"Nah, me? I wanted to surprise you, but you busted in here and caught us. Come look." She pulled Rosalind over to the bed.

"It's huge," Rosalind said, getting a look at it.

"I'm kinda tall. I wanted to get something more like normal people sleep in, you know? I've been sleeping on a mattress for years."

"A mattress is easier to pack up and move. Not to mention easier hauling up three flights of stairs and putting together," Joe said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"You're Mr. Toolbelt, you love this s.h.i.t. Don't let him fool you. He was all, like, let me get my wrenches and we can put it together."

"You've done a great job, both of you. I'm duly impressed. It's a great s.p.a.ce up here, but what about the weights, and your office?"

Joe smiled and picked up his tools. "We put the bench in Taryn's old room. I put my desk in there as well. It'll be nice to have the sun in the afternoon, when I'm working. It's good for the house to have changes, keeps all the energy flowing. It's late, kids, and I'm too old for all this exertion. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks, Joe," Taryn said, as he headed down the stairs.

She slid her arms around Rosalind's waist and pulled her close. "So, you like it?"

"Mhm. Whatever possessed you to move up here and go buy a bed?"

"There's this girl I'm seeing. She might be spending some time here, you know, sleeping over. I wanted a nicer place for her." Taryn's face was a mask of indifference, her voice bland.

"I'm sure you've seen other girls who slept over. What's different about this one?" Rosalind asked, drawing her hand along Taryn's collarbone.

"She's a hot lay. I wanted a real bed, so I can hear the springs squeal," Taryn said, leering.

"You are a dog. You're a pretty hot lay yourself, Cullen. I should be buying you leather jackets every other day." Rosalind's hand moved up to Taryn's neck, scratching at the short black hair.

"Leather jackets? I don't get it."

"Something Ellie said. Great s.e.x should always be celebrated with a new leather jacket."

There was a definite reaction in Taryn when Rosalind said it, a surge of energy. Pride suffused her features. "I like that. A new leather jacket every time...yeah. I could do a whole leather wardrobe, wear nothing else," Taryn said, and smirked.

It was the smirk that hooked Rosalind, reminded her of the drag king's reputation. That reputation was not a comfort to her, more so now that she was starting to feel proprietary about her. Her bad mood reared its ugly head.

"How many leather jackets did you collect before you met me?" Rosalind asked, wishing she could just bite her tongue off and get it over with.

There was no safe answer to the question, and the trapped look on Taryn's face was evidence that she knew it. "Why'd you want to know that?" Taryn asked in a strained voice.

"You afraid to tell me?" In her own estimation, when she woke up that morning, Rosalind had been a rational adult. She was in love, true, and that made madwomen out of the sanest adults, but she was still functioning on her expected level. This sudden dip into adolescence took her by complete surprise, but once the idea had presented itself, there was nothing to do with it but ask. It became very important to get Taryn to tell her how many leather jackets there had been, crowding up her closet. She heard, in a distracted kind of shock, the words leave her mouth, hating herself for asking, but determined to get an answer.

"Rosalind."

"Don't try the rational tone with me. Answer the question." Rosalind took her hands off Taryn and stepped back. "What is it? Can't count that high? Afraid I won't be able to handle the truth?"

The pained, surprised look in Taryn's eyes was enough to make her relent, but the words had been spoken, and she had heard them. Taryn walked to the bed and sat down on the edge, resting her hands on her knees. "I never pretended to be a virgin before I met you," she said, her voice strange to Rosalind's ear.

Sanity poked through the fog of pain in her head, making her hear how she sounded. "Taryn, I'm sorry, I don't know what-"

"No, you asked. That's fair. Double digits. I don't know exactly. I didn't keep notches on my bedpost, no matter what people say about me. I f.u.c.ked my way through Buffalo. And I'm sure that's still what is said about me. Satisfied?" Taryn said, not looking at Rosalind.

Satisfied? Rosalind thought, in a kind of numb shock. I managed to insult Taryn, when I came to wrap myself around her. Taryn's dark head was bent down, inspecting the floor. Rosalind could feel herself bleeding into the air, feel the wound in her side where Taryn should be. She had performed surgery on herself with her words and was now paying for it. She stared at Taryn in anguish, wanting to take back her words, her eyes full of her apology. But her head was bent, so Taryn did not see it.

Rosalind knew that silence wasn't good, that Taryn would swiftly fill that silence with meaning and react like a wounded animal.

"Maybe you'd better go. I want to be alone tonight."

The words went through Rosalind like a stiletto easing between her ribs to reach for her heart. Taryn had given her the key, gone out and purchased a new bed, moved up to the third floor just in case she came over. And she did come over and promptly kick the girl she loved in the teeth. "Taryn-" she began, agonized, but Taryn's head came up, and her eyes were cold and remote.

"Maybe you didn't hear me. I told you to get out."

It was the sound of Taryn's voice that reminded Rosalind she was an adult; she was just behaving like an adolescent. Taryn had fought against the words, speaking each one in a clipped efficiency that spoke of pain. It was a first for Rosalind, facing the aftermath of an unconsidered remark to someone she loved. She'd never had a fight like this with Paul. He'd never interested her enough to get heated about. She'd hurt her lover, she'd have to work to get back in. Rosalind thought about what she was doing, but did it anyway. She crossed to the bed, standing in front of the seething Taryn, who turned her head, looking anywhere but at her lover.

"I deserve that. It was a stupid, childish thing I said to you, and I regret ever opening my mouth," Rosalind said steadily.

Taryn's shoulders twitched, but she didn't look at Rosalind. She shrugged off the hand Rosalind tried to place on her arm, and rose from the bed. "Don't."

"I never want to hurt you, Taryn." Taryn's body was close enough to feel the heat of her skin.

"Then why the f.u.c.k say something like that to me? You decided that it isn't cool anymore, sleeping with somebody with experience? You seemed pretty d.a.m.n happy about it until now." Taryn turned her head, looking at Rosalind from the corner of her eye. "I'm not just some stupid butch you can pick up and ride. That's not what I thought we were doing here." She backed up as she spoke, as if being physically close to Rosalind was unmanageable.

"That's not what we are doing," Rosalind said softly. It was getting worse, not better, with every word spoken.

Taryn walked away, the length of the room. She stood in front of the windows, her back to Rosalind, arms folded protectively. The distance between them might not be bridgeable, if she left it to harden overnight.

Rosalind took strength from the certainty she'd felt when Taryn had given her the key. She walked slowly toward her, watching her back stiffen as she approached. She started speaking ten feet from her, letting her voice cover the remainder of the s.p.a.ce open between them. "I was twenty-eight when I got married. I wasn't a virgin, but I might as well have been. I didn't know that what I felt mattered. I didn't know anything much at all about my body."

Rosalind paused, watching the set of Taryn's shoulders change, just a fraction, a motion only visible to the eye of a lover, who translated such things. She waited for three heartbeats, until she could hear Taryn's breath easing in and out, hear a sound that might have been just a figment of her imagination. She started speaking again, as everything faded down to a vivid silence, punctuated with Taryn's breathing.

"It's funny to admit, as a feminist, but I never gave my own body a lot of thought. It never caused me pain; it was pleasant, but it was very manageable. Eric used to get mad if he didn't eat every few hours. He was like a bear or a lion. He'd get all grumpy and evil. It was fun to watch sometimes, seeing him so in thrall. I never felt enslaved by my needs. I didn't have many."

Rosalind paused again, feeling the weight of the silence. The change in Taryn's breathing was definite, the air coming more quickly into her lungs. If she tried, she could hear Taryn's heart clench with each beat. "In high school I never thought I was pretty. People said it to me, but no one ever said it in a way I believed. When you don't believe that about yourself, but people say it, it does something to you. To your trust. It was like a red flag, indicating when to tune someone out. They were complimenting me, so they'd just started lying. There were things I could be complimented about, and believe. My mind. My work. My warm personality. Warm. I heard that so often, I started to think of myself as a sweater or a pair of mittens, warm and fuzzy. When was someone ever going to go mad for me, call me gorgeous, heart-stopping, to die for? The thing is, I wouldn't have believed it, even if someone had said it to me. I had a pretty good setup, airtight." Rosalind chuckled, softly.

"I had a good handle on things. I had friends, a good job, got along with my family. The divorce was a relief in the end-no more of looking into Paul's eyes and seeing a need I couldn't meet, couldn't share."

Rosalind saw Taryn's shoulders tighten at the mention of Paul's name and knew how much she hated to be reminded of her husband. But it was important for her to feel that surge of instinctual anger right now.

"Then, one night, I went to a club with my best friend. She'd tried to fix me up on a blind date, again, with some sensitive guy she thought might do. He bored me silly the moment we met. I looked up at the stage and saw this girl. Just like that, my whole life changed."

Rosalind took a step toward Taryn's back. "My body reacted to her without knowing her. All those needs I thought I had handled rose up and grabbed me by the throat. It didn't make any sense, but if I didn't get close to her, I'd die. It helped that she was the s.e.xiest, most handsome swaggering thing I'd ever seen. But there was something more to her. A presence. A soul. Like I knew her. I just had to remind her of that.

"The first night she took me in her arms, I knew who I was. And the first night she let me hold her in my arms, I knew why I was here. I'm not who I thought I was, I don't have anything handled. Lately I think I have more needs than anyone who ever lived. My skin hurts when I'm away from her. I'm lucky if I can string two sentences together without wanting to say her name. n.o.body has ever loved her the way I do. It's arrogant, but I'll die defending it. So when I picture her in bed with someone else, it doesn't matter if it was two years ago or two minutes ago. I want them dead. And it makes me into a jealous a.s.shole, who's spending her time apologizing when I should be holding her now, on the bed she bought for us."

Taryn turned so fast she was a blur, spinning on her heel. Rosalind froze at the suddenness of the motion, not knowing how to interpret it. She wanted to see Taryn's face, her eyes, read the emotion there, but Taryn didn't give her a chance. One minute Rosalind was standing, inches from her back; the next, she found out just how strong Taryn was. Her feet left the floor-one muscled arm catching her behind the knees, the other around her back. In one smooth motion she was midair, being carried across the room. Her arm went around Taryn's broad shoulders for balance. Taryn's face was set. She carried Rosalind as lightly as a child over to the bed and deposited her with a rough grace.

Taryn crawled onto the bed, over Rosalind's body, covering her. Rosalind could feel the tremor in her back, as if she were chilled to the bone. She coiled Taryn into her arms, not easy to do with her height. Taryn's face was buried in her hair, turned away, so Rosalind couldn't see her. She felt Taryn's weight pressing her down into the bed and welcomed it, opening her legs for Taryn's thigh to slip in between. "I'm so sorry, baby," Rosalind whispered into her ear.

"Shut up," Taryn said, her voice clogged with emotion. "No more words. They hurt." She turned her face until her lips were pressed into the fragile skin of Rosalind's throat. They parted and rested there, her breath hot on the woman's skin, as if she readied to drink her blood.

"Words suck," Rosalind said, solemnly. She felt Taryn's shoulders. .h.i.tch.

"Don't make me laugh, I'm mad at you," Taryn growled, but the anger was gone from her voice. She shifted her weight and pressed her hips into Rosalind's.

"You should be. I'm a jerk."