Page 90 of These Thin Lines

And yet, there was something else there, that thread, that thin, barely-there silky filament that kept tugging at Chiara’s memories and at her consciousness. At times, it seemed within her reach, and today she was certain she would grasp it.

The car stopped abruptly, and the driver exited to open their door, pulling her out of her musings. As they climbed the steps towards her apartment, the townhouse seemed to settle around them, the empty showroom glimmering in the dark, the cozy offices and their deep green, soft tones soothing with their presence.

Her own atelier, allaying her regrets and her anguish with the splendor of the night seeping into the space through the massive skylights.

Chiara was reluctant to turn on the lights and just allowed the house to do what it always did best. She let the space that had become home more than any other, comfort her, as she felt the silk of that weightiness, the significance of the moment, wrap itself around her thoughts, offering both hope and solace, while Vi’s hands steered her into the dim living room.

Binoche welcomed them with a meow and a hiss, as though she resented her own demands for attention.

“This is such a cliché. Me bringing you this cat. Such a romcom thing.” Vi’s voice held a smile, even if Chiara couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Except ours was never a romcom, darling.”

“A tragedy?” The cat was purring now, and Chiara realized that, while she was lost in her own thoughts, Vi must’ve picked Binoche up.

“One of our own making. I never apologized. And neither did you…”

“I’ve been trying to—”

“No, Vi, what you’ve beentryingto do is atone. To let me, Aoife, Renate, life, your parents—you name it—hurt you for something you did five years ago. You’ve been attempting to pay penance. The lost weight, the unhealthy, no-sleep lifestyle you…” Chiara struggled to find the right word, and instead waved her hand at Vi, hoping that she could see the gesture in the shadows.

And Vi must have managed, because her answer was a low laugh, which made Chiara roll her eyes.

“Nuh uh, don’t you dare brush this off. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat. You work ‘till you drop and you make love like you owe me.”

Vi set the cat down and her voice suddenly sounded much closer, a dangerous note emanating from it. “No one ever complained, Chiara. You certainly haven’t.”

The low tone shrouded Chiara’s ability to reason with fog, a haze of sudden lust. A feeling that had taken a back seat on their drive, in spite of a deep desire that had been slowly winding her up like a spring ever since she had seen that tuxedo. Or maybe ever since she’d first laid eyes on Vi in New York again.

Events, places, Vi’s face all formed a kaleidoscope in her mind, and Chiara knew their time for words was over. She had said plenty, yet not enough, and she hadn’t convinced Vi of anything, but perhaps during this past hour, she had persuaded herself. And allowed herself that first careful step. Towards trust. Towards Vi.

And so she took another one, and then another, closer, until she could see the narrowed eyes, filled with that same lust. And love.

Vi had spoken of her feelings in past tense, but Chiara knew enough of the world, of people, and most importantly of Vi, to recognize this one thing. To know it for certain. After all, it had been undisputable even five years ago. Vi loved her.

When their lips touched, Chiara realized it would be different. It would be sweet. And it would be gentle. And as she slowly tasted Vi’s mouth, those full lips gentled too, slowing down, taking their time.

With the one exception, they’d never had the luxury of time with each other, and so they did now, Chiara slanting her mouth over Vi’s, taking and giving in equal measure, even as their breaths mingled and their lips danced.

Her hands dove into the auburn silk of Vi’s hair, tugging and scattering the pins, feeling scalded when the fiery strands fell over her fingertips, yet holding on tighter, gratified and electrified by Vi’s whimper, licking deeper into her open mouth, feeling powerful, feeling free for the first time in years.

The gifts this woman bestowed on her, giving her strength and courage, and yes, freedom. Freedom to be herself, freedom to stand on a ledge and watch the city slip by underneath her and to know that, should she fall, she would be caught.

The warm hands on her face told her as much. Told her that she should have made the leap sooner, that no matter the past, she should have let go, let it all be.

Who needed proof when these fingers caressed and tended to her while tears were tumbling from underneath Vi’s closed eyelids?

Even falling apart, Vi was gentle and careful and self-sacrificing. It was time for Chiara to let her. And to trust her.

“I love you. And I forgive you. For everything you think you need forgiveness for, darling. I should have taken your word. I should have listened. I’m so sorry.”

Vi’s tears fell in earnest now.

“Chiara… No… You can’t. I lied. I lied so many times. You don’t understand… I couldn’t—”

“No,cuore mio. My heart. We will figure it out. I promise you. Let go now. With me.”

Her mouth and her hands acted in tandem with her words, making quick work of the tuxedo jacket that was indeed hinging on a single button. As she slowly pushed the lapels to the sides, her breath caught in her lungs.

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