Always a Love Song Read online

  “You all right?” Bridget asked.

  Jenny nodded. “I have a question actually.”

  “Shoot.”

  Jenny hesitated before she leaned closer and whispered, “I was just wondering…how did you know you liked girls too?”

  Bridget smiled. She’d been there. Been confused, been told she was wrong. For months, she’d agonized over her attraction to girls, especially to Alex, her best friend. It had seemed like a sacred bond she could never touch. But speaking up, telling the truth, kissing Alex that first time, had led to years of bliss. “Who’s the girl?”

  Jenny pointed discreetly in the direction of her friends. “Mallory.”

  “The tall one? With glasses?”

  Jenny nodded eagerly, hardly able to tear her eyes away from her crush.

  “Well, for me, it was kind of like that,” Bridget said. “There was this girl I liked—really liked. In fact, she’s right over there.” She gestured to Alex, in line at the concession stand. “I’d known her for years, but suddenly, seeing her gave me butterflies, and every time we held hands, I wanted it to be as something more, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to kiss her.”

  “That’s how I feel, too. What did you do about it?”

  “I was scared, mostly. So I kept it to myself for a long time. But then she kissed me right here.” Bridget touched her cheek. “And I finally got the courage to kiss her for real. I’m not saying to do that, but it’s okay if you don’t figure it out right away. It’s okay to spend time with her. It’s okay if it takes a while to find the courage to tell her you like her.”

  Jenny smiled. “I think I can do that.”

  “Good. The important thing is to stop worrying so much. No one says you have to have it all figured out at fifteen. I’m almost twice your age, and I still don’t have it figured out.”

  “Really?” Jenny twisted to look at Alex. “But I thought you said she liked you back.”

  Bridget’s smile slid away with a familiar pang. “She did once. A long time ago, I made a mistake, but I’m trying to fix it now.”

  “I hope you can.”

  “And I hope Mallory has butterflies for you, too.”

  The group of teenagers called Jenny’s name. “I’m up! Gotta go! Thanks, Bridget!” She threw her arms around Bridget’s neck before running off to rejoin her group, high-fiving her crush like a pro.

  Bridget forced her lungs to work properly. To be a teenager again, figuring out what the fluttering in her chest meant, figuring out why being with her best friend felt so damn good in so many ways. But she wasn’t a teenager. And Alex wasn’t her best friend anymore.

  Alex leaned her elbows on the bar, waiting on two more pitchers of beer. Across the way, Bridget was deep in conversation with a teenage girl. This side of America’s Sweetheart was truly sweet to see. Bridget always did love to put smiles on people’s faces.

  Max sidled up to her. “Figured you could use a hand.”

  “Two pitchers, two hands,” she said, “but thanks.”

  Unfazed, he said, “A friend, then?”

  The bartender placed the beer on the counter. Alex thanked him, took the pitchers, and turned away. “If you’re here to talk about what I think you want to talk about, I’m not really interested.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I loved the beer I had at your bar, and Jordan led me to believe I could get a tour of your brewery if I played my cards right.”

  A laugh slipped out. That was something she could do.

  “Sure,” she said. “Come by the bar during the day sometime next week, and I’ll give you a tour.”

  Max grinned.

  He seemed like a nice guy—caring, funny, kind. She was glad Bridget had him.

  Chapter Five

  Then

  Giddiness and exhaustion warred within Bridget as the spray of the shower washed over her. The ceremony had been followed by lunch with their families and partying with their friends. And all four years of exhaustion were worth it now that they had diplomas. If college had been like treading water, she looked forward to knowing what it felt like to swim in the open sea.

  After drying off, she threw on an oversized T-shirt and nothing else, toweled her hair, and ran her fingers through it. Then, heart thudding with happiness and desire, she walked into the bedroom.

  Alex sat on her side of the bed, back against the headboard, a book propped on her knees, glasses on her nose. Something crystalized within Bridget. This was her future—being able to slip into bed beside a soft, caring woman. She’d thought about it, of course. She’d thought about it a lot over the last four years, but college had felt so temporary. It was so much more real now, like they weren’t just playing at being adults anymore.

  Alex looked up, a smile forming on her lips.

  Bridget crawled under the covers, gently took the book from Alex’s lap, and moved to straddle her. Alex’s hands came around her waist, her eyes holding so much affection that Bridget had to swallow down a lump in her throat. What they had was special, and she knew how lucky they were to have found each other so quickly, so effortlessly.

  One hand threading into Alex’s hair, she leaned down to kiss her. Everything about Alex was soft—from the give of her lips to the taste of tea on her tongue to the way she cradled Bridget. As their mouths moved together, Bridget’s heart swelled. She felt so safe with Alex, so cherished and cared for.

  As the kiss ended, she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. “Hey,” she murmured.

  “Hey,” Alex murmured back.

  These moments—the ones where they didn’t really have to speak, could simply enjoy being in each other’s presence—were some of Bridget’s favorites. She focused on the gentle puff of Alex’s breath against her cheek, the splay of Alex’s slender fingers against her back, the rapid rise and fall of Alex’s chest. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to live in this moment or bottle it up so she could carry it with her forever.

  “Can you believe we made it?” Bridget said.

  “Of course I can. We did it together,” Alex said, slipping a hand under Bridget’s shirt.

  Her touch, though cool, set Bridget on fire. Bridget pushed up the hem of Alex’s boxers and shifted so they were skin-on-skin. Alex’s eyes narrowed. She scratched her nails over Bridget’s lower back and leaned in to kiss Bridget’s neck.

  Alex had a way with her tongue, and Bridget’s breath came in shudders at the heat from Alex’s mouth and the answering heat growing in her own body. She threaded her fingers through Alex’s hair. A breathy moan escaped her lips as Alex nibbled at her ear.

  What she loved most about coming unraveled under Alex’s touch was the consideration and the gentleness in it. This was her own personal heaven, one she got to experience every single day.

  “This is the beginning of the rest of our lives,” she breathed in Alex’s ear.

  “Mm. And what are we going to do with our newfound freedom?” Alex murmured, voice husky and low, as she dipped down to Bridget’s collarbone.

  Bridget, rocking against Alex, tightened her grip in her hair. Desire pulsed through her. “Oh, I’ve got plans for us,” she said. She ran her thumb in circles over the nape of Alex’s neck, making her shiver. “First, I’m going to make love to you until the only thing you can say is my name.”

  Alex huffed out a laugh. She pulled away to look at Bridget, a challenge in her eye. “Are you sure about that?”

  Before Bridget could question it, could make sure Alex wanted to do this tonight, Alex flipped them over. Her weight, solid and sexy, only increased Bridget’s longing, as did the knee she slipped between Bridget’s thighs.

  “Alex,” Bridget groaned, need dripping from her voice. In front of anyone else, it would have been embarrassing. But for Alex, she willingly laid herself bare; she knew Alex would take care of her.

 
Brown curls haloing her face, Alex grinned down at her. “I think you’re going to have to wait your turn.”

  Now

  Alex stood in front of the Callahans’ door, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a bouquet of flowers from her back garden in the other. Once, she would’ve walked right in. Like a second daughter. She licked her lips, thinking of her grandmother’s ring and how she almost was an actual second daughter.

  After tucking the flowers under her arm, she wiped her sweaty palms off on her jeans, fixed the collar of her flannel shirt, and smoothed the front of her sweater. Only then did she knock.

  Evelyn opened the door promptly, a wide smile on her face. “Alex!” She leaned in for a hug, noticing Alex’s offerings as she pulled back. “Sweetie, I know you’re stubborn about the knocking, but how many times have I told you that you don’t have to bring anything?”

  “Every week.”

  Evelyn led them inside. “And how many times have you brought something?”

  Alex followed her into the foyer. “Every week.”

  Evelyn chuckled. “You’re a lost cause, I’m afraid.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Alex said. She held up the six-pack. “I thought you’d like to try the new brew.”

  “Oh, something new?” Marcus asked, poking his head in from the dining room. He rubbed his hands together before taking the carrier from her. “Excellent.”

  “You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

  “Will do, kid.”

  Alex rolled her eyes as he disappeared into the dining room. She’d never needed to wish for siblings; Bridget’s brothers had always seemed like her own.

  “Everyone’s out back,” Evelyn said, tipping her head in that direction. “Maybe you want to join them.”

  Alex hesitated. Evelyn was one of her favorite people on the planet, but she couldn’t give her what she wanted. Not right now, maybe not ever. She held up the bundle of flowers. “Actually, I should probably get these in water, so…”

  A sad smile on her face, Evelyn nodded.

  Alex knew where the vases were. She knew where practically everything in this house was, and every spot, every nook brought up a memory of simpler, better times. The sofa in the living room, where they’d spent countless weekend nights watching movies and, as they’d grown older, gotten a little handsy under blankets. The kitchen table, where a teenaged Bridget had patched up Alex’s skinned knees after some boys pushed her off her bike.

  Every other Sunday, Alex had been able to bury those memories just deep enough to get through family dinner.

  She grabbed a plain vase from the bottom cabinet near the dishwasher and filled it up. Standing at the sink gave her a perfect view of the backyard. The backyard, where Bridget was pushing her nephew on the swing set. Before she could stop herself, she was thinking about where they’d be right now if they hadn’t split.

  Five years was a long time.

  They’d be married, definitely. Would they be living in the city, close enough to drop by for family time every Sunday? Would they have had kids by now? Or at least be starting the long, arduous adoption process?

  Bridget’s hair shone in the autumn sunlight. Alex’s breath came shakily. They could’ve had this. They could’ve had a life together, could’ve been happy, and Bridget just…left. She left like Alex meant nothing to her. Like it was the easiest decision in the world. Alex bit her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check.

  Bridget, still pushing Dev, finally looked up.

  Alex immediately looked down. The vase was overflowing.

  Bridget’s laugh died on her lips when she looked up. Alex was in the kitchen window, looking right back her.

  “What’s happening? Why is Alex…” She trailed off, made for the back door.

  Ian grabbed her by the arm and gently spun her around. “Bridge, Bridge, Bridge. Just hang on a sec, okay?”

  “What?” she asked. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jaya soothed, her voice smooth and sincere. “I don’t think any of us thought she’d come this week.”

  “This week?” Bridget repeated. She rounded on her brother and sister-in-law. “So, this happens every week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ian, chagrined, rubbed the back of his neck. “We were trying to help.”

  “Both of you,” Jaya clarified. “We were trying to help both of you in different ways.”

  “You’re my family,” Bridget said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  Jaya took her hand. “Bridget, sweetie, there are no sides.”

  “Yeah, just because we still love her doesn’t mean we love you less or something,” Ian said.

  “She hasn’t had anyone, not since her dad died,” Jaya said, lightly squeezing Bridget’s hand. “Don’t ask us to abandon her.”

  Bridget swallowed thickly. Right. She couldn’t begrudge Alex finding solace in the only semblance of family she had left. She swiped her hands under her eyes. “I’m not asking that. I just… You should have told me.”

  “Yeah, we should have,” Ian said.

  He folded her into his arms, and Jaya followed soon after. Dev and Arya barreled into their knees in an effort to join the group hug, drawing a wet chuckle from Bridget’s lips.

  “You’re strong. You can do this,” Jaya said.

  Bridget wasn’t so sure about that, but she followed them into the house anyway, the kids at their heels. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands, burrowed into the wool like it would hide her from Alex’s radar. She’d performed at the Grammy Awards. She could certainly sit through an awkward dinner.

  A glass of wine couldn’t hurt, though. She headed to the kitchen to pour one and nearly bumped right into Alex, who held a glass in each hand.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Bridget said.

  “It’s okay,” Alex said in that calm, measured way she had. It used to drive Bridget crazy, how Alex could be so stoic. She used to make a game of trying to get a rise out of her. Now, though, it just made her sad.

  “I was just…” Bridget gestured into the kitchen. “Wine.”

  Alex held out a glass. “I was just bringing you one, actually.”

  “Oh, um, thanks.” As she accepted, Bridget silently cursed the heat rising to her cheeks.

  Alex brushed by her to take a seat at the dining room table. Max and Marcus already sat next to each other on one side, with Ian, Jaya, and Alex across from them. Her mom sat at the head of the table, and across from her, Arya and Dev sat together.

  Which left the chair beside Max, the one across from Alex, for Bridget. She slipped into it and immediately took a gulp of wine. It was white and sweet, like she liked it. She never did get the taste for anything drier than Riesling. Did Alex remember that about her, or was it just a guess? Was it just what Alex happened to be drinking herself?

  Max gave her knee a squeeze, a question in his half-smile. She nodded. She was all right.

  After they said grace, Arya passed the bowl of bread to her. She took two slices. When she looked up, her eyes were drawn to Alex, who studied her plate intently. So once they were done passing food and Bridget’s plate was piled with lasagna, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes, she let her gaze linger. Alex looked healthy, if not quite happy. And Bridget always did love her in flannel.

  She forced air in and out of her lungs. This was all so…normal. Alex apparently came here for lunch every Sunday.

  Every. Single. Week.

  And her mom, Marcus, Ian, Jaya—none of them had ever breathed a word of it to her. But it was fine. It was fine because Bridget leaving didn’t mean all the Callahans had to decamp. It didn’t mean Alex had to lose everyone.

  Alex deserved so much more than a coward like her, but that didn’t stop a part of Bridget, the selfish part, from wanting this to be completely normal—her
presence at the table, too. This was what their life could’ve been, if she had tried a bit harder instead of leaving when Alex needed her most. She could imagine sitting beside Alex, their knees brushing, letting her hand creep up Alex’s thigh as Alex fought a grin. She could imagine Alex joking with Marcus, chasing Arya and Dev around the yard, offering to clear the table so her mom wouldn’t have to. She could imagine sitting in the passenger seat, pleasantly full and sleepy, as Alex drove them home. She could imagine slipping under the sheets together, lazy smiles on their faces, a perfect end to a perfect weekend.

  And then she felt the cracks in her heart grow another nanometer. Because she gave that up when she left. And she had no right to be sad when it was her own choices that had made that future impossible. She took another sip of wine.

  Max nudged her back into the conversation.

  “I’ve got to say,” Marcus was saying as he twisted a beer bottle to inspect the label, “this isn’t my favorite brew.”

  “No?” Alex asked. “Too dark for you?”

  Marcus laughed. “A bit, yeah.”

  Bridget blinked. Alex was teasing him.

  “Maybe stick with Life on the Berm instead, then,” Alex suggested.

  “Yeah, I think I will,” Marcus said. He flicked a finger gun at Alex. “Still, points for trying.”

  “Wait. The beer’s yours, too?” Bridget asked. No one had told her anything. Now she looked like a callous idiot for not knowing any of this stuff.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, “I opened up the brewery last year.”

  “Wow, that’s… That’s awesome. Congratulations.”

  Alex tipped her head. “Thank you.”

  “She’s quite the entrepreneur,” Evelyn said, beaming.

  “What’s next? A bookstore?” Jaya asked.

  “Ooh, it could be a foreign-language bookstore,” Marcus said.

  “In a small town like this? I don’t think there’s really a need for it, do you? It’d be fun, though,” Alex said, before taking a bite of lasagna.

  “Oh, yeah,” Max chimed in, “Bridget said you liked to read. A couple months ago, she gave me this book about the history of Mongolia. Said it was your favorite. I loved it!” Grinning, he switched his gaze back and forth between her and Alex. “So thanks for the indirect book recommendation.”