It’s only been three weeks, she reasoned to herself, using another part of her brain not so easily swayed by emotion. Way too soon to start imagining…certain things.
But three weeks wasn’t the correct number, was it? She pondered. Actually, she and Rachel had only been having sex for three weeks. They’ve known each other now for five weeks. And, Ainsley further pondered—feeling that happy-but-scared queasiness she felt whenever she was on the cusp of something momentous—didn’t she always know that there was something special about Rachel from the first time she saw her?
Besides, she realized it was fun imagining…certain things. And before she knew it, she was smiling to herself after deciding on the perfect cabinet for the air fryer, daydreaming about Rachel here in the kitchen with her, pulling out that very same air fryer as they prepared to make a meal together. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not next month. But for the next…
No, no, no! Brakes! Put on the brakes!
***
“Hey!”
“Hey,” Ainsley said into her iPhone, smiling.
“So, I’m back at my place,” Rachel told her.
“How was your day?” Ainsley asked.
“Great. The open house was a bit exhausting but at least I got four solid offers. The showing went well also even though I suspect that even four-hundred-thousand might be a bit out of their price range. No bother, though; I still have plenty of other listings I can show them. Now, how was your day?”
Ainsley told her how much she had gotten accomplished. There was still scads to do but at least she’d had gotten the bedroom more or less sorted and so she’d be able to actually sleep in her new house tonight.
“By the way,” Rachel began, “I totally understand if you want to spend it alone.”
Ainsley thought about that. It was not only a considerate suggestion but a good one. She needed to know what it was like to sleep in this new (to her, anyway) house by herself. She needed to know what it was like to be at her most vulnerable in this new space, with the house dark and her hearing all sorts of strange new noises…
But, damn, it would be nice to have Rachel beside her in bed. Even if they didn’t have sex, Ainsley just wanted Rachel beside her.
“I’ll think about it,” she told her girlfriend.
“Okay. So, you want me to come over and help out?”
Ainsley sighed.
“Actually, I’m kind of done with this for the day,” she replied. “I was thinking I’d love to be irresponsible and go to La Vida Mocha for coffee.”
Rachel laughed.
“Cut yourself some slack. It’s not irresponsible. You worked hard today.”
Ainsley smiled even though Rachel couldn’t see it. But she couldn’t help it.
“You want me to come pick you up?” Rachel asked.
“Actually,” Ainsley began, “why don’t you meet me there? I want to stretch my legs and I also want to see if I know how to find the place by walking to it from my house.”
“Good idea,” Rachel said. “So, I figure it should take you ten minutes or so. Any longer and I’m calling the Boy Scouts to come find you.”
Ainsley laughed.
“Why not the Girl Scouts, traitor?” she asked.
“Please. The males of our species are better at directions, everyone knows that,” Rachel answered.
They agreed that Ainsley would text Rachel when she left the house so that Rachel would know when to show up at the coffeeshop, and in less than twenty minutes—after taking a quick shower and throwing on denim shorts and a racerback tank—Ainsley did just that.
She pointed herself in the direction she guessed was the simplest way to go and started walking. She purposely avoided pulling out her cell and looking at Google Maps, wanting to test her sense of direction, knowing it wasn’t really much of a challenge. Carlsbad is a fairly simple town to get around in. All she had to do was head towards the Village, which was what the downtown area was called. She was reasonably certain it was in this direction and that the Boy Scouts could suck it. She even increased her walking pace, trying to see if she could beat Rachel to La Vida Mocha.
“I guess you didn’t get lost,” Rachel said a few minutes later when she encountered Ainsley waiting for her outside the coffeeshop.