So apparently, Thursday nights were pretty busy at Martini’s. Who knew? It took Adley a good ten minutes of creeping along in her car before she found a parking spot. She checked her hair in the rearviewmirror, regretting that she didn’t go home to change into something a little more presentable than her jeans and deep green button-down top with the capped sleeves. But she knew if she’d gone home first, she likely would’ve chickened out and would now be in her pajamas in bed watchingAmerican Ninja Warrioror some other mindless show while she decompressed from her day, probably with a glass of wine. So she’d stayed in the same clothes, and here she was, in the parking lot of Martini’s. She could get a glass of wine here, right?
“What am I doing?” she whispered to her reflection. And she thought about jamming the car into reverse and just leaving. Just going home. But something wouldn’t let her. Before she even thought about it, she’d reached for the door handle and pulled it open. And then she was standing on the asphalt. And then her feet were moving. And then she was pulling on the door to Martini’s. And then, even through all the people standing and talking or sitting at tables or walking across the room, she could see her. Sabrina. Sitting at the bar, rocks glass of amber liquid on its way to her lips just as their eyes met. The glass stopped, hovered. And Sabrina’s face broke into a gorgeous smile that had Adley’s knees going slightly weak. “Jesus Christ, what am I doing?” she muttered to herself. But that didn’t stop her feet from carrying her right toward Sabrina.
“You made it,” Sabrina said, and even though Adley didn’t know her well, she did know that this gorgeous blonde was happy to see her.
“I did. I almost didn’t. But I did.”
“Saved you a seat,” Sabrina said, indicating the barstool next to her. “What can I get you?”
Adley took the seat, hung her purse on the little hook under the bar, and made eye contact with Clea, the bartender she’d met once or twice through Scottie. “Sauvignon blanc, please.” She inhaled quietly, let it out slowly, and willed herself to relax. The nerves had kicked in, the butterflies in her stomach morphing into fighter jets that felt like they were ramming into her internal organs. She turned to meet those big blue eyes, and then something strange happened. She relaxed. Everything in her eased. Her shoulders dropped, the tension in her jaw released, her hand stopped trembling. One look from this woman she didn’t even know did that? What the fuck was actually happening? “How was your day?” she asked Sabrina as Clea slid the glass of wine in front of her. “Did you work? What do you do?”
Sabrina looked down into her glass and seemed to be contemplating something. After a moment, she met Adley’s gaze, her eyes soft. “My job is stressful and—honestly?—doesn’t bring me a ton of joy lately. How would you feel if I didn’t talk about work?”
And something about that honesty wrapped itself around Adley and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You know what? My work is normally something I love but has been really stressful lately, too.” She held up her wine. “To not talking about work.”
“I will totally drink to that.” Sabrina touched her glass to Adley’s. They sipped, and could Sabrina feel the sexual tension that ran between them? Because Adley was pretty sure she could reach out and touch it.
“So, no work talk. Where are you from?” No work talk was fine, but Adley wanted to know everything else she could find out about this woman.
“Atlanta originally. If I had to consider someplace home, it would be Atlanta. But I travel a lot.”
“For the work we’re not talking about.”
“Exactly.”
Adley sipped. “Atlanta, huh? I might have to call you Peaches now.”
Sabrina’s soft laugh had a musical quality to it, like tinkling piano keys. Adley liked it. A lot. “My grandpa called me that. And so does my dad.”
“And there go my points for originality.” Adley let go of a dramatic sigh.
“You want to call somebody from GeorgiaPeachesand think you’re due points for originality?”
“Valid.” Adley grinned.
“What about you? Are you from here?”
A nod. “I’m a Northwood girl, born and raised.”
“Siblings?”
“I have an older sister. Brody. She’s an architect. My dad grew up here, and my mom moved here from the Philippines when she was just a toddler. What about you?”
“No siblings. Only child. My parents tried for years to have a baby with no luck so finally decided to adopt. They brought me home when my mom was forty and my dad was forty-five.”
“Was it lonely? Being an only child? I’ve always wondered that. Imean, Brody and I would beat the snot out of each other when we were kids, but she was always there for me.”
Sabrina seemed to think about the question. Adley watched her face, how her eyes shadowed as she seemed to go far away for a moment. Then she sipped her drink. “I guess maybe a little. The bonus was that, with no siblings, I got all the attention.” She signaled to Clea for a refill.
Adley laughed quietly. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. I had to share everything with Brody. Even if she didn’t really want to play with something I had, she’d pretend she wanted to just so I’d have to share.”
“I did often wish I had a brother or sister, though. Those stories make me wonder what it would’ve been like, how different my life might be now.”
They grew quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, not one Adley felt she needed to fill. She sipped her wine, and when she looked at Sabrina, Sabrina was looking at her. And they stayed like that, just holding eye contact, and that was another thing that surprised Adley—the prolonged eye contact didn’t make her feel squirmy or like she needed to tear her gaze away, like it usually did. She simply sat there, wine in hand, and looked back at Sabrina. Her skin was flawless. Creamy. A little on the pale side, especially compared to Adley’s year-round tan, as Scottie called her skin tone. Sabrina’s eyebrows were expertly shaped, her eye makeup light but flattering.
“I think you’re beautiful,” she said softly, and the words were out and floating between them before Adley even registered that they’d been in her brain. And as she watched, two subtle splotches of pink blossomed on Sabrina’s cheeks.
“Well,” Sabrina said and then sipped her drink without looking at her, “thank you. And right back atcha.” That’s when she turned back to meet Adley’s gaze. “Because, damn.”
