Page 40 of Imperfectly Perfect

“I don’t know.”

“Open it.”

Fallon slowly slid open the rectangular cardboard box, revealing a wine glass inside. It was etched withIt’s a wine and cheese kind of night. Fallon grinned broadly, remembering their back-and-forth exchange with so much fondness. She wished that night had been able to last even longer, that Savannah had stayed instead of going home, that they’d had a reprise of their first night together.

But she understood why it hadn’t.

Savannah hadn’t been in any state of mind for sex. What she’d needed was connection and safety.

“I’m going to assume that makes sense to you,” Monti said.

“Yeah, it does.” Fallon brushed her fingers over the glass. She walked toward the kitchen again and set it on the counter to be washed before she put it away.

“So this girl brings you gifts, she has you in knots, and you still think you’re going to end up like him.” Monti put her hand on the refrigerator door. “I don’t think she’s the only one who needs a good dose of therapy.”

“Therapy’s never really worked for me,” Fallon fired back. She’d tried it, more times than she cared to admit, and she could honestly say that reliving the trauma she’d faced as a child was the last thing that she wanted to do. Therapy simply wasn’t for her.

“You keep saying that—”

“And I mean it.” Fallon ended the debate right there and then. She didn’t need to be pushed into something she didn’t want to try again.

“And Savannah?”

“It might work for her.”

“No, what are you going to do about her?”

Fallon stilled. She looked Monti over from head to toe and back again. Savannah had brought a light to her life that she hadn’t thought possible. From their first awkward meeting in the cemetery to the next few in the office to their one night tangled naked together in Fallon’s bed.

“How did you do it with Athena?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know about us.” Monti grabbed the orange juice from the fridge and started mixing them another drink.

“How did you move beyond our past?” Fallon hinged everything she had on what Monti had to say. She’d never thought she’d be asking her baby sister for advice, but here they were. And she was waiting for Monti to give her a wallop of it.

Monti handed the drink over, looking Fallon directly in the eye. “No one is perfect. No one will get away without making mistakes. No one will ever be good enough if you won’t allow them to grow with you.”

“That’s your advice? Lower my standards?” Fallon’s eyes widened.

“Well, I thought it was pretty sound.” With a laugh, Monti headed back toward the living room. “You better feed me if you don’t want me to get drunk!”

“Feed you,” Fallon muttered. But when she took a step, she realized just how right Monti was. They both needed food, and at least another shot of the vodka.

fourteen

“I’m so glad you came.” Savannah nearly choked on her words, realizing far too late the innuendo she’d made. Swallowing that down, she opened the front door to her apartment a little wider to allow Fallon to step inside.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Fallon asked, her lips quirking slightly in a way that meant she was teasing but didn’t want the whole world to know.

“Um, eventually.” Savannah was back to that uncertain self she’d found the last time they’d met up like this. And she didn’t like it one bit. She’d never been particularly confident when it came to sex, but she’d at least been competent. Now she just felt like she was a tilt-a-whirl of unknown every time Fallon was near her.

“Good to know.” Fallon shifted a small bag from one hand to the other. She dropped her gaze all down Savannah’s body, lingering on places like her lips, her breasts, her eyes.

Savannah’s heart rate was already picking up speed, right along with her insecurities. She hated that they were running wild lately. She never wanted to be that person, and yet somehow, here she was, second guessing and questioning everything she did and said, and trying to make sure that shewas good enough for this woman who wanted nothing but sex from her.

“You said Brinley is here?” Fallon asked, her voice lowering to just above a whisper, as if Brinley would hear her and come out of the bedroom.

Nodding, Savannah shut and locked the door. “She’s asleep, and she sleeps like the dead.”

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