Gemma's POV

I LAY in bed, unable to sleep. Why am I so adamant about remembering Veronica from highschool? Does it really matter?

She's probably just a familiar face. We don't seem to have been friends. It might be a recurring face in the school hallway. Or maybe we took a class together.

I just want to remember.

It makes me anxious that I don't. I eventually remembered Penny. And she's quite insignificant compared to Veronica.

How can I not remember those gorgeous, blue eyes? For sure, lots of women have blue eyes. But hers are memorable.

There's just something about her that I'm sure I would remember.

"Goodmorning, sleepyhead," I head into the kitchen to find Veronica yawning beside the coffee machine.

She looks all disorientated, like she has a hangover or something. We did drink a few glasses of wine.

"Hey," she sips on her cup of coffee. Placing the cup down, she stretches her arms, causing her t-shirt to rise above her belly.

Is that a tattoo? It looks like a dolphin. I smile and grab a cup to pour myself some coffee.

"I think I found a solution to my problem," I tell her.

She yawns into the palm of her hand, "yeah?"

"Do you have a copy of your highschool year book?" Veronica groans. I raise my brow, as I look at her disgruntled face, "I will remember once I see what you looked like back then."

"Head of fuller hair. No wrinkles. More fat. And really thick eyebrows. Ring any bells?"

She's being snarky.

"Nope. Do you, or do I have to visit the highschool, and search for your records?"

She rolls her eyes and huffs, "what's important is that you know me now. Why does it matter for you to remember me from back then?"

"It matters... to me. It just does."

Veronica refills her cup, and walks away. It really does look like she has a hangover. Her hair's all messy. And her clothes are wrinkled. I guess she's not a morning person? I'm jealous of those who are.

I head out for the day, deciding to be a productive human being. There's lots of unfinished stuff to be done around the town. And most of it has to do with paperwork.

I'm not a greedy person. Never have been. Even though, for the better part of my life, I only looked out for myself. That seems to be changing.

Now, I feel like it's time to give back. I'm going to help Audrey through the next few months, or years, if need be. I'm going to donate a fraction of my inheritance to a charity, that I've yet to decide on. And I'm going to give the people that my grandfather cared for a piece of him to remember him by.

He must have cared for them to always help. Personally, I think they were all bad investments. But it was never about making money for him. These people were like his family, and they deserve full ownership of their businesses.

I'm still unsure about how many places my grandfather had shares in. He was one hell of a silent partner, I'll tell you that.

I have to head over to the house to look through his files. There's gotta be something to tell me what I need to know. He was always organized. And wrote down every business transaction that he ever made. He did love those tax breaks too.

I head over to the bakery, after finding the file that I need to look through. Gosh, I love the smell of this place when they're baking something in the oven.

Brings me back to my childhood.

"What can I get for you today?" I look up from my booth, and notice Claire. She's got a notepad in her hand, and an uncomfortable smile on her face, "hey, Gemma," she mumbles, and looks down at her notepad.

"Just a cup of coffee, and a blueberry muffin."

"Okay, anything to eat? We've got breakfast. Bacon and eggs, pancakes, hash browns—"

"I didn't know that you have breakfast too."

"Yeah. Mom's new thing. Brings in a lot of customers in the morning. We're about to serve lunch. It's pasta with—"

"I'll have that too. Thanks."

"Great. Give me a few minutes," she walks away.

I assume that they don't have a menu for breakfast yet. I won't intervene in how Audrey runs the business. I know better. But I do think there's some changes to be made. The entire place can do with some remodeling. And I bet the kitchen needs an upgrade with appliances. They could turn this place into a nice cafe.

I rub my temple, and look through the file. It has every business that my grandfather was involved in.

Fuck, he owns the boutique that Helen works at? She's just renting. How perfect. I should kick her out...

No, I'm not supposed to be a bad person. I wonder if she's been paying the rent, since his death though. I'll have to look into it.

He has shares in a car wash? And in a strip club?

He was probably the strip club's number one customer. I laugh to myself.

I HIRE a lawyer to write up some paperwork for me. After giving him instructions over the phone, and emailing him the information that he needs, I head back to my room.

I grab my laptop, and type in class of 1997 fairfield highschool connecticut into my web browser.

I realized that this way is easier than actually going to the school. Like if I'd actually do it. I'd look like a frickin' stalker.

I graduated in 1999, so I know that Veronica is 97. Preschool math.

And there she is. It's gotta be her. I can remember those blue eyes from anywhere. Regardless if her name is under the picture or not. So, she's Veronica Stark.

She looks so different. She looks so... fuck.

I close my computer, and lean back. Okay, I remember now. I don't think I want to remember anymore.

She had blonde hair back then, and filled in her eyebrows with dark purple. And I even remember her boyfriend. Gosh, I hope that's not the dude that she married. He was a dick.

Oh my god, she was that girl.

I think I fucked up my chances with her since back then. No wonder she doesn't like me back.

She was the frickin' bicurious, closeted blonde that I almost had sex with on the bleachers.

Fuck. At least she doesn't hate me anymore.

"Gemma?" I look at the door, and notice Veronica, "did you actually go to the school?"

I shake my head. I push my laptop off of me and stand, "if you don't want me to remember, then I won't push it," I swallow nervously.

"Did you just look me up online?" She narrows her eyes. Is it that obvious?

"Um, no?"

She sighs and walks into the room, "so you know now. Doesn't really change anything."

"Yeah," I rub the back of my neck, "let's just forget it, okay?"

"Wow, you're so mortified," she laughs, "I'm the one who should be embarrassed. You left me topless by myself when you ran away."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about that. But you don't know the whole—"

She raises her hand. "It's okay. We were kids. I don't hold that against you anymore."

"Right," I inhale a deep breath. She looks at me, with those big, blue eyes of hers, and I feel weak, "my period," I blurt, "it was my period."

"What?"

I sit on the bed, and place my hand over my face, "when we were getting into it. You stuck your hand in my pants, and what I thought was, you know, was actually blood. You didn't notice. I almost freaked out when I saw your bloody fingers, and I wiped it off with the inside of my shirt, while you were, uh, moaning," I clear my throat, "and I told you I had to go."

"And you ran off," she sits beside me and laughs, "you could've just told me."

I place my hand over my stomach. Twenty one years later, and I still feel embarrassed about it.

"I could have. But you might have laughed at me. And I was... anyway—"

"I thought you were just an asshole," she nudges my shoulder with hers, "and I ignored you for the rest of the year. I was embarrassed too."

"Really?" I bit my bottom lip.

"Yeah. You were my first girl experience. And I felt like one of your playthings that you didn't care about."

"I know. I know. I owe you an orgasm. Has it racked up interest after all these years?" Veronica elbows my stomach, "it's a joke," I squeal.

"As I said, it's irrelevant. We get to know each other all over again."

"But is this why you won't date me?" I wait for her answer. It must be. We've got a weird past together.

"No?" She chews on the inside of her cheek, "I don't know. You're great, Gemma. But you seem to have a lot going on. I still don't think it's a good idea."

I nod, and she gets up, "at least I tried. We're good friends. Wouldn't want to ruin that."

Veronica smiles, "I still owe you that dinner I promised. Are you busy tomorrow night?"

I raise a brow, "the friendly dinner?" She actually remembers about that? Of course, I do. I've wanted to take her out for a while now. Even though, it's just as friends.

She nods, "yes, we'll get all dressed up, and you'll take me to a fancy restaurant."

I smile too, "you've already made me dinner so many times, you really don't have to—"

"I want to."

"Okay, good. What time do you want me to pick you up?"

She walks to the door and turns, "at seven. And I'm driving."

"Yes, ma'am."

Audrey's POV

"I SAW Gemma today. How come she hasn't come over in a while?" Claire asks, as she helps me in the kitchen. I sigh and try to stay calm.

"She's busy. And I don't want you to hang around her. She's my friend, not yours," they probably met at the bakery.

"Really? Does this have anything to do with her being a lesbian?"

I punch my fist into the dough, "nope. She's over twice your age."

"Right. This really has nothing to do with me having a girlfriend that you don't approve of?"

I feel a tension in my gut, "you're too young to date, Claire. Much less have sex."

"Would you rather me have sex with a boy instead?" I grit my teeth. She's such a smartass.

"You shouldn't date or have sex with anyone. You're fifteen."

"I'm just saying that you shouldn't ruin your friendship with Gemma, just because you don't want me to be gay," Claire groans. And the attitude is back.

Claire has short moments where she isn't annoyed. It's like her period. Comes once a month. And maybe some spotting on random days.

"I just don't want you to jump to assumptions about yourself. Just because Gemma's a lesbian, doesn't mean that you are."

"I know. I'm bisexual. You could've just asked."

I close my eyes, and grip onto the edge of the counter. I don't know what to do about this. Should I let her be whoever she wants to be?

I don't care. She can be gay if she wants. But how can I take her to church knowing that? And what if people find out. What will they think of her?

Just because Gemma has always been comfortable being herself, it doesn't mean that I'm not scared for my daughter.

It's not easy to be different. How will Claire manage what life throws at her?

"Just give me some time to get used to it. And no more having sex, especially at school, okay?"

She nods, "okay."

Gemma's POV

IT'S A bit chilly out, but I could use a smoke. I don't do this often, so it's like getting high.

I've tried drugs before, but nothing's better than nicotine, to me. It gives me a high that's just right.

It's almost time for me to go on my friendly date with Veronica. I've been looking forward to it. But I'm nervous. Is it really just as friends? Or should I be prepared for it to mean more? She's playing hard to get, that's for sure.

Either, she wants to give me a hard time, or she isn't interested in me like that at all. Let's hope she's interested. I'm not going to give up that easily.

I almost burn my fingers from how short the cigarette gets. Throwing it onto the ground, I defuse it with the bottom of my shoe.

I head back inside, grab my purse, and decide to wait for Veronica in the living room.

I don't even know where her room is. She definitely lives here too. But where?

"Hey, you ready?" Veronica walks into the living room, "you look nice," she compliments, as she fixes her earring.

"You're not too bad yourself, Miss Stark," I walk over to her.

"Stalker," she teases, "I made reservations for 7:30, wouldn't want to be late."

"Okay, you're driving, right?"

She nods, and we walk out the door, "this place has the best coq au vin."

"What's that?" Is that some kind of Caribbean dish? Or Italian?

"It's chicken."

"Oh," I must seem dumb to her, "Italian?"

"French. You can try some when I order it. It's really good."

We get into her car, and she puts the key into the ignition. Got to say, her car's a lot nicer than my rented Rav four.

I should get someone to bring my baby down here. I've got a beat up Bronco in Vegas. But I love that thing. I'll keep it as a souvenir forever. It's probably best to leave it in my garage, until I decide what I'm going to do.

I've been thinking about moving back here. At least for a few years. I might take time off from working, and live a little. I'm now able to decide what I want my tomorrow to look like without thinking about if I can afford it. I should go to The Bahamas for the summer. And spend my days soaking up some vitamin d.

"We should go to The Bahamas together. I bet we'd be great travel companions," I say.

"I'd love to travel. But I've got bills to pay, and people to accommodate. We're not all rich like you," she gives me a glance, "but if I ever decide to sell this place, I just might take you up on that offer."

"You could just get someone to manage it when you're not around."

"Yeah. It's always more complicated than that. Anyway, how was Brazil? Had any fun?"

"Lots of fun. Lots of food. I think I gained eleven pounds in two weeks there."

"I bet it was nice. Did you meet anyone? There were probably lots of women fawning over you."

I laugh, "not really. I'm just an average white lady. But those brazilians are hot. And not very interested in me."

"Oh, come on. There had to be someone."

"There was, actually. Estela. We had fun," her eyes focus on the road, and I notice her hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"Doing long distance?"

"No. What happens in Brazil, stays in Brazil," she forces a laugh, it seems, "are you jealous?"

"What? No? Why would I be?"

"Just seems like you're upset," I'm pretty sure that's a scowl on her face. Is she really jealous? Cause I'm just trying to tease her.

"I'm not. Estela sounds like a nice person," her face softens.

"Yeah, she is," we get to the restaurant, and Veronica parks the car. When we get to our table, she orders us a nice bottle of wine. I like a woman who takes initiative, "what about you? Anyone interesting you want to tell me about?"

Veronica shrugs. "Yeah. But not really. Let's talk about the good stuff. Not the shit I don't want to think about."

I can sense some unease. It seems that we're both having relationship issues. Everyone always does. It sucks.

"Okay. Sorry. I'm thinking about taking a drive to New York this weekend. Take in the sights."

She shakes her head, "don't drive. Hop on a train there. It'll be more fun."

"Want to come with me?"

Veronica twirls her index finger around the stem of her wine glass, "I'd love to, but, I've got guests coming in tomorrow, and the day after. I always have people on the weekends too. So I can't, but thanks for asking."

"I'm glad that business is good. I'm thinking about finding someplace more permanent to stay. I can't live with you forever," I laugh.

She chews on bread, while holding a butter knife, "true, but you have a perfectly good house already."

"Yeah," I mumble, "it's just not where I want to be. That house reminds me of how sad my life is."

"It's a beautiful house. Maggie would snatch it up, and put it on the market."

"I know, she told me," the waiter comes over with our order. I inhale, and close my eyes. That smells delicious, "I'll decide after a while. I have other things to deal with before I can even think about that."

She nods while taking a bite of her food. I think I can see her eyes rolling back. Makes me wonder how she'd react during an orgasm...

Okay, I need to get my mind out of the gutter. Darn you, Gemma. Be more respectful. And let the woman eat in peace.

We eat in a pleasant silence. She doesn't even share. And here I am, looking forward to trying the coq au vin. I'll just have to come back to this restaurant some other time. Or maybe they deliver.

"I think I'll have room for dessert," Veronica mentions, as she continues to eat.

I've been eating slowly. The food's great. But I've always had this self-awareness while I'm eating. I always eat less when I'm on a date. And I'm the type of girl who orders a salad, because she doesn't want to look awkward while eating, at least until I get to know the person.

But this isn't the first time I've eaten with Veronica. Why am I still trying to look as though I'm a delicate eater? I'm weird.

I wish I could be more like her. She seems to enjoy her food, yet eats in a pleasant manner. I'd have sauce surrounding my lips by now, if I ate like that.

Gosh, she's pretty.

I try not to stare. But I take quick glances every few seconds. I have to be careful how much I look, because she always catches me staring. And it can be the most embarrassing thing.

"Bobby Nyes is Beatrice's husband, right?" I ask, just trying to start up a conversation.

Veronica nods, "yeah.Why?"

"He's one of my errands tomorrow. I got some paperwork for him to sign."

"Oh, what about?"

I assume that she already knows, but I'll answer her anyway, "I inherited forty-nine percent of the auto shop. It's not something I want, so, you know, I'll hand it over."

"Hand it over?" Veronica rolls her eyes, "you make it seem like nothing. It's a nice thing you're doing, Gemma. I'm sure Beatrice will make you a pie or something to thank you."

"It's really nothing that I'm worried about. It's only fair."

"Most people would want to be bought out."

I shrug, "the auto shop seems to be doing well. And honestly, I have enough money as it is."

Veronica drinks her wine, and shakes her head, "it's still generous, regardless of how much money you inherited."

Money isn't something I've ever liked to talk about. I've always had a comfortable lifestyle. At least what I think comfortable is.

"How was your coq au vin?" I hope I pronounced it right, "it looked good."

Veronica looks down at her empty plate and laughs, "I'm so sorry, I forgot—"

"It's fine. I liked watching you eat with such joy. It's beautiful."

She furrows her brows, "you were watching me eat?"

I sold myself out, "um, I just noticed. I was busy eating my own—"

"You're cute," she picks up the napkin from her lap, and wipes the corners of her mouth, "can I ask you a question, Gemma?"

"Yes, of course. You can ask me anything. Except for my social security number," I crack a smile.

She giggles, and continues to look at me. I can almost feel her eyes burning into my soul. It's this sensation in my chest, that makes me remember that I'm still capable of having feelings for someone.

"I think I can get you to spill that with just taking off my clothes."

So, now, she's getting bold. But I like it when she teases me. And she's finally making sexual jokes without regretting it. From the look in her eyes, I can tell that she's becoming more comfortable around me.

"Is that a proposition? Cause I'll give you those nine digits right now if you pinky swear that you will."

"I'll think about it," she laughs, "why are you so interested in me?"

I'm caught off guard by her question. That's something I would ask someone. I didn't expect that she would pop that question to me.

"What are you talking about? We're just friends, right?" My sarcastic tone of voice makes her look away from me, "Veronica?"

Her eyes snap back to mine, "I was just teasing you," she stretches her shoulders back, "back to my initial question—"

"Yeah?" I swallow. She's suddenly got that serious tone in her voice. Is she going to tell me that she's still married, and has a husband waiting god knows where for her? Cause it won't be the first time someone breaks that news to me.

"What's the deal with you and your ex-girlfriend? I know it's not of my business, but—"

As much as I don't want to talk about it, I also do. It's also my story to tell. And I don't believe Veronica would go telling anyone what I say to her. At least, I can hope. And if she does, well, I have no obligation to feel guilty about that. Sabrina can suck it.

"It's okay. Of course, you're curious. She did basically storm into your home, and started fighting with me."

Veronica looks at me intently. I have nothing to tell her that's going to have her at the edge of her seat. But it's a good enough story to tell, just to let it out in the open.

"Yeah. I think she's still in love with you. It's just a little obvious," she says.

I place my hand on the side of my neck and laugh. That's surreal for me to hear, "she's never been in love with me, I assure you."

Veronica furrows her brows, "really? I'm pretty sure she is."

I pick up the bottle of wine, and pour until my glass is full. I'll probably get some judgemental glares from across the room, but who cares. Mama needs her wine.

"Nope."

"What about you?" She asks.

I lean the glass to my lips, and take a huge gulp. Running the tip of my tongue across my lips, I sigh, "what about me?"

"Do you love her?"

Love. I've been looking for it all my life. Real love. That's what I'm searching for. Not toxic love.

"Loved. She was the first person I fell for. I was eighteen. She was in her thirties. The age difference wasn't the problem. The problem was, that she was into men."

"Did she—"

"And I have nothing against bisexuals. But she isn't bisexual. She's bicurious. Was bicurious. I don't know what she identifies as now. And it's none of my business. Cause, honestly, I don't like thinking about her."

Veronica continues to look at me, that glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. I don't think she understands that I've moved on. And it doesn't matter to me anymore.

"I know a thing or two about toxic relationships. Cause I was the toxic one in my marriage," she admits, raising my curiosity.

"I wouldn't have guessed. I might be a little biased against men."

"I felt stuck for a long time. I thought that I was bicurious too. Cause I never met a woman that made me feel anything a man couldn't. My ex was a great guy. As good as they come. And that's very rare. But even though he was perfect, he wasn't perfect to me. You know what I mean?"

If I remember correctly, Veronica said that he didn't like that she's a lesbian. I guess I can sympathize with him. I wouldn't want my wife to one day tell me that she's straight, and leave me. That would crush me.

"If only he had a vagina," I take another drink of wine.

She giggles, "we tried bringing someone else into the marriage even. But it still wasn't enough. I needed something more that he could never give me."

I cringe. I don't like the bringing someone else into the marriage thing.

"The good ole unicorn," I mumble. Unicorns are in high demand. That seems to be the most popular request these days. And even back then.

Everything's about threesomes, and polyamory. And not being commited to one person. I don't judge. If that's what people want, they should be able to do whatever. But it's just not for me.

I've been told so many times that being possessive is being controlling. That it's not healthy. But I think there's the good kind, and the bad kind. Possessiveness can be described in many ways. I believe if someone isn't jealous, they don't care enough. And if they're too jealous, to the point that they're angry, that they're toxic.

Nothing's ever black and white. And sometimes, it's hard to tell the difference between a good and bad relationship.

I've been the victim in bad relationships quite a few times. And it's only after the relationship ended, and some time passes, that I realize how fucked up it was.

"Tell me more about her."

"Sabrina?" Veronica nods, "why? What do you want to know?"

She shrugs, "why were you attracted to her? I mean, she's pretty, but that attitude."

"She isn't always that bitchy, I don't think. She used to be a very nice person. A nicer person than I could ever be. But," I inhale deeply, "I think overtime, he made her batshit crazy."

"He?"

"Her husband."

Veronica nods. She already knows that if she listened to us fight that night. I wonder if she judges me for that—sleeping with a married woman.

I judge myself for it still.

"He wasn't good?"

I shake my head, "he was an ass. She could have done better than him. But he was her husband. And they had a kid. That meant something to her."

"I get that," Veronica tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear, "it must have been hard—to be with someone who was—"

"Don't judge me too hard," I say.

"What do you mean? I'm not judging you."

"Sure, you aren't."

Veronica stretches her hand across the table, and places it on top of mine, in comfort, "I cheated on my ex. Not proud of it. But it happened," she tilts her head to the side, "over and over again."

"But I'm guessing that he didn't mind?" I lift my head.

Veronica shakes her head, "there's a difference between cheating, and being in an open relationship, Gem."

"Really?"

"I lied, Gemma. A lot. And I had affairs that were more than just sex. At first, we both thought it was just something I did for fun. And we'd even do it together sometimes. But sleeping with women meant something more to me. And that's what ended my marriage."

She pulls her hand away, and runs it over her forehead, "we all do bad things."

"My point is, I'm not judging you for things you did so long ago. As long as we don't make those mistakes repeatedly. And without remorse."

I nod. "I get that," the waiter brings over the desserts that we ordered, "Sabrina was the first person I ever loved. I know that, in some way, it will always mean something to me—our relationship. And I think about her from time to time, but I would never go back to her."

"Are you sure about that?" Veronica makes me consider it again. Would I? No. I could never.

"Yes, I'm sure. You know, her husband's dead. Been dead for a few years now, I think. And even with that, I know she still holds him up on some pedestal. I can never love someone who doesn't know how to love themself. And she loved him, to his dying breath, I'm sure. Whether she chooses to believe it or not. How can she love someone who treated her like that?"

"That really bugs you," she says.

I furrow my brows, "how someone can love so blindly?"

Veronica shakes her head, "how she loved him regardless of how much you loved her."

I shrug. And lean back in my seat. That hits me right in the chest.

"Let's talk about something else. I'm not... I'm—"

Veronica nods and picks up her spoon to eat her dessert, "tell me more about where you want to travel."

I exhale a relieved breath. My brain's a bit foggy. But I shake it off. And try to lighten the conversation.