“But, not like really loud, right?” Rachel asked.
Ainsley kissed the tip of Rachel’s nose and then snuggled even more under the blankets.
“Good night,” she said.
Rachel blinked.
“Wait…answer the question!”
Chapter 24
Moving day.
Ainsley, ever the supporter of women-owned businesses but particularly the supporter of LGBTQ women-owned businesses had managed to find a moving company owned and completely staffed by lesbians. It was one of those only-in-California kind of things.
The movers—none of whom Ainsley would like to challenge in an arm wrestling contest—showed up on time and had her condo in San Diego cleared out quickly, the contents all loaded into a large pink moving van. Once the condo was empty, Ainsley couldn’t help but spend several minutes walking through the place.
It had been a good home to her, this two-bedroom condominium which she had bought soon after starting her residency at Kaiser Permanente Medical Center. She had always felt safe here and it had housed her during a period in her life when she went through a lot of growth both personally and professionally.
When she had bought it, she had had visions of one day sharing it with a special woman, of them starting a life together here. It was certainly a big enough place for two and close to everything fabulous about San Diego, especially Balboa Park, Ainsley’s favorite spot in the city. However, the demands of her job and her relentless striving to become the best surgeon she could had meant that for most of her time owning this condo, she had lived in it alone.
Until she took a chance with Casey.
Ainsley wasn’t sure at the time that Casey was the one but she knew that she enjoyed their relationship and liked the idea of waking up next to her each morning and making this condo their home rather than just her home. And it was a concept Casey seemed to be all onboard for as well.
It lasted six weeks.
Ainsley was more than willing to acknowledge her shortcomings as a partner and thus her role in Casey feeling lonely and as if she was Ainsley’s second priority. But Ainsley also felt that if Casey had just talked to her about what she was going through perhaps she could have made some adjustments and Casey wouldn’t have felt the need to seek what she wanted in another woman.
Would the same thing happen with Rachel? And if it did, would it happen with whoever was post-Rachel? And if it did, would it happen with the next in line? Was she doomed to a never-ending series of short-lived relationships over the next few decades until she retired from her demanding profession?
Ainsley didn’t know. But considering it now, what she did know was that she didn’t want to think about post-Rachel because she didn’t like the notion of a post-Rachel. Such a concept was as distasteful to her as the concept of getting back together with Casey. And Ainsley was resolved to do her level best to ensure that there was not going to be a post-Rachel period of her life because already the red-headed real estate agent was under Ainsley’s skin in the best possible way.
Even better, Rachel seemed—for now, anyway—to be handling the quirks of Ainsley’s career perfectly well. This past Monday, for instance, Ainsley had had to cancel their date because she needed to remain at the hospital until well past ten p.m. because of two emergency procedures that had come in.
Rachel’s response?
“There will be plenty more dates. Go save lives.”
Recalling that now, Ainsley felt weak in the knees.
Yep. Definitely getting under my skin.
“So long,” Ainsley said
the empty condo as she began walking to the front door. “Thanks for the memories.”
She stopped, suddenly feeling superstitious. Turning back around, she called out to the void. “Well, except that one about Casey! You can keep that one! Make sure it doesn’t follow me to my new place, okay? Please and thank you!”
Satisfied that she properly appealed to whichever goddesses are in charge of happy lesbian memories, Ainsley left the condo. For now, she was keeping it and would rent it out. Rachel was right: rental prices in this neighborhood of San Diego were very high. Ainsley would be able to get more for rent each month than her mortgage payment for this place and Rachel assured her that with demand so high, she’d have a tenant in no time. Longer term, however, Ainsley figured she’d sell it. She had been thinking about her new house lately and considering that she’d one day like to put a pool in her backyard and also build a pool house/guest house to go with it. The profit she’d make from selling this condo should not only cover that but leave quite a bit left over.
After locking the door, she got in her car, started it up and pointed it north, towards her new life in Carlsbad.
***
Three hours later, Ainsley, with a glass of white wine in hand, was sitting on the living room floor of her new house and staring forlornly at all the work ahead of her.
“Oh god, why did I want to do this again?” she moaned. There were boxes and boxes of things to unpack, and her furniture—though all in the correct rooms—still needed to be arranged properly. It was going to take forever!