“My turn,” she said. “Let’s see if you’ve got the touch too.”
Amy placed her hand on Sally’s leg and Sally gave her that zillion-watt smile Amy adored.
“Like Xanax,” Sally said.
“Great,” Amy began, “all we have to do is keep our hands on each other during the flight and we’ll be fine.”
“I can think of worse things,” Sally replied.
“I’m crazy about you!” Amy couldn’t help saying then. “Like, super, out of this world crazy about you! I just wanted you to know that before we get on another possibly defective plane in…” she glanced at the countdown clock again “…twenty-eight minutes.”
“Babe, I’m crazy about you too,” Sally said. “And I think this flight is going to go fine.”
“If it doesn’t,” Amy began, “we’re sticking to boats, trains and cars. Maybe the occasional bicycle.”
“I can’t bike all the way to Amsterdam!” Sally said.
“We will use a combination of boats, trains and cars to get to Amsterdam; then we’ll use the bikes once we’re there,” Amy declared.
“I like that you said ‘we will,’” Sally purred.
Amy grinned.
“I already told you: you’re not traveling anywhere without me, Miss Lassiter.”
“And I love that.”
“Good, because it’s not like you have a choice.”
***
The flight went fine. The hexabolt thingamajigs kept the wings where they belonged and the loner dweeb who programmed the control software must have gotten laid because he had done a terrific job. With the exception of some minor turbulence—which Amy knew she wouldn’t have noticed normally but which this time made her and Sally clutch each other’s hands—the trip from Los Angeles to Seattle was smooth and uneventful.
The relief Amy had felt the instant she felt the gentle bump of touchdown and heard the rubber-burning squeak of tires on tarmac had made her incredibly horny and once they had gotten to their room at the Marriott at nearly eleven-thirty that night, she had pounced on Sally and thus started another one of their marathon sex sessions which at one point featured the vibrator-that-could-be-mistaken-for-a-pipe-bomb.
When they had finally stopped at god-knows-what-time o’clock, Amy had slept the sleep of a carnally satisfied woman who also had another great blog entry idea: Fear and Your Libido: How Surviving Can Lead to a Night of Great Passion.
And unlike most nights, Amy had managed to turn her brain completely off. There had been no waking up in the dark room, ideas for her blog or podcast running rampant in her skull and forcing her to toss off the covers, get out of bed and spend the pre-dawn hours tapping away on her laptop. No. This time, Amy had slept soundly until the stirring of her fabulous girlfriend next to her woke her up sometime near ten o’clock. Amy had been amazed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept that late. On weekends, on holidays, it just didn’t happen. It couldn’t have just been because her and Sally had stayed up until the wee hours having sex—that happened a lot and each time it did, Amy still would often awaken early.
No, Amy had determined, lying there in bed, watching Sally slowly awaken. No, she had slept late because somehow during her slumber her subconscious had told her brain that when you have a second chance at life, sometimes it’s okay if you just remain in bed, sleeping next to the woman you love.
Because Amy was in love with Sally. She had known it since surviving the Event, when she had felt an overwhelming relief not only at being alive but at knowing she now had a chance at a long life with one Sally Lassiter.
And she was certain Sally was in love with her as well. Amy’s soul told her that. But they hadn’t said the words to each other yet.
Why? Amy had wondered as she had watched Sally’s eyelids begin to flutter open before deciding it didn’t matter. It would happen and it would happen soon.
Now, it was late Saturday morning and her and Sally had just finished brunch at what could only be described as a boîte. They had had the most delicious lobster omelets ever, washed down with superb mimosas and were now walking off all the calories by strolling along the Waterfront Trail.
“Hey!” Amy said as they walked past a shop selling crystals and gems just before turning onto Alaskan Way. “We’ve been together a month now.”
Sally smiled.
“Really?”
“Four weeks ago yesterday we had our first date,” Amy informed her.
“Oh my god, you’re right!” Sally said. “Fuck, we packed a lot into one month.”