She headed to her right, through a sitting room, and into the kitchen, where Tori and a man in a suit were talking about, of all things, plumbing.

  Tori turned to her, and as soon as their eyes met, her chest and neck turned red, the way they did whenever Genevieve kissed her. “Genevieve, hi,” she said a little breathlessly. She approached Genevieve, then stopped in front of her and hesitated.

  They hadn’t been this close to each other since Tori had kissed her on the cheek in the wine bar after Genevieve had broken up with her.

  They stared awkwardly at each other for a long minute. Don’t overthink this.

  She grabbed Tori’s hands, leaned forward, and kissed her on the cheek, lingering for the briefest of moments. While her lips pressed gently against Tori’s skin, she inhaled, enjoying the smell of Tori’s perfume.

  Tori sighed softly, sending pleasant vibrations all through Genevieve. They pulled apart, but Tori’s eyes remained closed for a beat, and Genevieve grinned.

  When the man in the suit cleared his throat, Tori opened her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Raul, this is Genevieve.”

  They shook hands and Genevieve said, “How do you two know each other?”

  Raul looked confused for a moment before Tori cut in. “We don’t, really. Raul’s showing me the house.”

  “Raul’s showing you the…oh! Wait, you’re looking to buy this place?”

  Tori cleared her throat, then looked at Raul. “Would you mind if we looked around on our own for a bit?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll be in the backyard if you have any questions.”

  Tori placed a hand on Genevieve’s lower back, a proprietary and intimate gesture Genevieve was surprised Tori would do in front of a real estate agent, and led her into the dining room. “What do you think—do you like it?”

  “I…What on earth is happening? Am I in some alternate dimension?” Genevieve walked around the dining room table. “Are you selling your house? You love your house.”

  Behind her, Tori trailed her hand across the backs of the chairs around the table. “I do. But you don’t. Not really.” She inhaled audibly. “And, Genevieve, I love you. I know you said that we don’t work as a couple, but I still think we can. So I thought maybe if we found a place that was new to both of us—that wasn’t mine and wasn’t yours—well, maybe…”

  She looked away.

  Genevieve was in a strange house, with some strange version of Tori, standing in a strange room, with a real estate agent outside. The whole situation had her mind reeling. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “Look, if you don’t like this place…we can keep looking together; or, if you’re not ready to… It’s just an idea. I just wanted to…be impetuous.”

  “Wait, are you… You’re saying you want to buy a house with me?”

  Tori looked at her, all vulnerability and hope, and Genevieve’s heartbeat doubled.

  “Yes. I want to live with you, and I think that’s only going to make us both happy if neither of us moves in with the other. We should pick out a place together.”

  Her gaze searched Genevieve’s even as Genevieve continued to gape at her.

  “I’ve gone about this all wrong, haven’t I? I’m not trying to force you into this house. We can look up listings together. Search together. I wasn’t trying to pick out a house for you without your input. I get it—this is probably me just being controlling again, right? I’m sorry. We should just go. Let’s talk about this some other time. I—”

  Genevieve placed a finger on her lips. “Sh. Stop talking. You sound like a loon. Everything about this is entirely out of your comfort zone. It’s super romantic. And it means a lot to me that you’d be willing to give up your sanctuary for me. For us. I can’t believe you even would, after what an ass I was.”

  “We’ve both made mistakes. We need a new start. Maybe this place—or some place like it—could be it.”

  Genevieve raised her eyebrows. “You do know we’re in Georgetown, right? Notorious for its impossible parking?”

  Tori shrugged. “This place has a two-car garage. And we can walk to restaurants—no need to drive.”

  Genevieve walked to the windows and studied them, then turned to take in the flooring and the outlet locations. The ceiling looked solid. She pulled out her phone—cell service was good. “How many bedrooms?” she asked, turning back to Tori.

  Tori’s face lit up at the question. “Three. So we can each have a home office, or we can set one up as a guest room, or… How many bedrooms do you want?”

  “And you’re really ready to give up your house?”

  Tori walked to her, stopping when their bodies were close. Genevieve could feel heat coming off her.

  “Genevieve, it’s just a house. I want more than that. I want you.”

  “I want you too—” Genevieve started, but Tori’s lips were on hers, and Tori’s hands were on her hips, and she forgot what else she was going to say. She slid her hands into Tori’s hair, and when Tori pulled their bodies together, she moaned.

  Tori’s lips left hers, and she almost whimpered. With their foreheads resting together and their chests heaving in unison, Tori put her hand on Genevieve’s cheek. “Take me back, Genevieve. Please.”

  Genevieve nodded, trying to catch her breath. “And here I thought I’d be the one begging for another chance.”

  “I don’t need you to beg. I need to know what you want. There’s all this white noise around us, this interference. It’s just you and me right now. Tell me, do you want someone else? Something else?”

  Genevieve laughed—evidently Tori did know how to do simple after all. “I want to buy a house with you and live happily ever after.”

  Tori’s chuckle tickled Genevieve’s mouth. “Oh, I doubt it will be that easy. We’ve proven more than once that we’re capable of messing up pretty straightforward situations.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you reason to doubt me.”

  “I’m sorry you felt suffocated by me.”

  Tori’s lips brushed against hers, a sweet kiss that held more innocence in it than should be possible between two people who had hurt each other this much. She stepped away from Genevieve, breaking all contact between them.

  “You stay over there for a minute.” She held up her hand as a kind of barrier. “You make my head spin when you’re that close. And I need to know. Can we try again?”

  Genevieve laughed and shook her head. “God, how can you be so charming?” She paused, her nerve endings craving Tori’s touch, and called forth her self-control. “Yes, we’re doing this. Getting back together. Now, can I touch you again?”

  Tori melted into her, nuzzling her neck, then kissing it gently.

  “Mm,” Genevieve mumbled. “For the record, you make my head spin too.”

  “Good. We’d have real problems if I didn’t.”

  Genevieve held her close for another minute, then held her hand and said, “Well, let’s explore this house.”

  They went room to room slowly, discussing which of their furniture they’d keep and where it would fit. The house suited both of them—the clean, modern interior design for Tori and splashes of bright colors for Genevieve.

  As they stood in the master bedroom, hand in hand, Genevieve said, “I think the only problem with this house is that we don’t live in it already.”

  Tori rested her head on Genevieve’s shoulder. “Well, let’s get on that, then.”

  Chapter 30

  Three days later, Genevieve and Victoria were again in the same room, only this time Tori was wearing her judicial robe, Heather and Crystal were holding hands in chairs next to Penelope, and Genevieve was in the balcony with the rest of the observers.

  As the clerk read down the decision, and the justices who had signed onto it, Genevieve honest-to-God pinched herself. Had she heard right? Was it really a 7-2 decision? She looked at Tori, who met her eyes and beamed. Genevieve was still in shock, and Tori visibly stifled a laugh. She surreptitiously wiped her finger across her brow, as if smoothing the furrows on Genevieve’s forehead.

  A beat of silence passed after the clerk’s announcement, and then the courtroom erupted into applause. Matthew Smith looked like he’d eaten a rotten egg. Kellen O’Neill was impassive.

  The business of the Court continued, but Genevieve just stared at Tori. Had she always looked so smart, seated on the bench of the highest court in the land? She glanced around the courtroom, noting how many people were gazing adoringly at her. As the youngest justice, a brilliant woman who blazed trails, Tori was, well, impressive. Genevieve had spent so much time frustrated by Tori’s career that, perhaps until this moment, she’d never truly appreciated how amazing it was.

  When the Court adjourned, Genevieve stood to the side on the Supreme Court steps while Penelope, Heather, and Crystal spoke with reporters. It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, watching it all happen instead of making it all happen.

  She was musing about where to take them to celebrate when she heard Penelope say, “Why do I think we won so big? It has everything to do with the amazing trial record created by Genevieve Fornier, who filed the initial complaint. Genevieve!” she called out, beckoning.

  The cameras turned to her, and their clicking grew louder as she walked over to Penelope and her friends. Heather and Crystal hugged her tight, Crystal giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Genevieve, how does it feel to have won a case you didn’t even argue?” a reporter called out.

  With effort, she refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s not often you turn over the reins on a case to someone with the expertise, grace, and compassion of Penelope Sweet. It’s an honor to work with her. And I’m overjoyed for my friends and for gay parents all over this country, who will no longer have to live in fear that their children will be ripped away from them. Today, the Supreme Court made this country more equal, more just, and closer to a more perfect union.”

  “Ms. Fornier, what’s the status of your relationship to Victoria Willoughby?” shouted a reporter.

  Despite herself, she opened her mouth to respond, but Penelope put a hand on her arm.

  “Thank you, everyone, for your questions. We’re going to go celebrate with our clients.”

  She ushered them down the rest of the Supreme Court steps and toward a black Suburban idling in wait. When they were all settled inside, Penelope told the driver, “Blue Duck Tavern,” but before they could pull away, there was a tap on one of the tinted windows. Penelope rolled hers down to reveal Victoria.

  “I just wanted to congratulate all of you,” she said.

  “Well, don’t stop there. Join us—we’re going to get a bite to eat and celebrate,” Penelope said.

  Victoria hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I’d love to.” She looked past Penelope to address Genevieve. “I have my car, so just text me directions?” She paused. “Genevieve? If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.”

  Shaking her head did little to dispel the shock. “Uh. You’re coming?”

  “If that’s all right.” Tori beamed, clearly enjoying the effect she was having.

  “Uh-huh. I’ll text you, then.”

  “Thanks, babe. See you soon, everyone!”

  Penelope rolled up her window while Crystal and Heather nudged each other, and Crystal stage-whispered, “We’re going to hang out with a Supreme Court justice.”

  Penelope whispered into Genevieve’s ear. “She’s not that bad. I suppose I see the appeal.”

  For the rest of the ride, Genevieve just held on and wondered if she was in the twilight zone.

  Chapter 31

  “Are you really sure this is the right decision?” Victoria asked Alistair.

  Seated in one of the leather chairs in his chambers, Alistair nodded solemnly. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Marcia may be in remission, but she could get sick again. And even if she doesn’t, I’ve completed my tenure on the bench. I don’t want to die in office—I want an actual retirement. I’d like to spend more time with my grandkids and garden and have my days to myself.”

  “The idea of days on end all to yourself doesn’t scare you?”

  “Only someone in their prime work years would ask that. It sounds like a little bit of heaven.”

  “Well, you’ve certainly earned it,” Victoria said, patting him on the knee. “You’ll be very missed around here, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. And I want to make something very clear to you, Victoria: I don’t want us to drift apart just because we don’t work together anymore. I expect you to keep in touch.”

  “Who else am I going to turn to when Kellen’s bigotry makes me want to scream?”

  Alistair shifted in his chair, and his voice deepened. “Victoria, I know you’re mad at him about his vote on the gay parentage case.”

  “Out of three gay rights cases since I’ve been on the Court, he’s voted twice to deny LGBTQ people basic civil rights,” Victoria said. “Twice. In case you—or he—has forgotten: I am an LGBTQ person. How can he deny basic human dignity to a colleague and then make small talk with me during conference like it doesn’t matter?”

  “Victoria,” he repeated as deep, grave lines carved into his expression. “I want to share something with you, something about our chief justice, and I honestly can’t tell if you’re going to like hearing it. When your predecessor stepped down from the bench and Obama had a vacancy to fill, Kellen came into my chambers and sat me down. He knew Obama would nominate a liberal judge—one with whom he would have stark ideological differences—and that the president was probably going to reach out to the senior justice on his side of the aisle for recommendations. Suggestions given aren’t taken lightly, considering no one knows the demands of the job as well as sitting justices, and also, we know the members of the judicial community so well.

  “I told Kellen I had no intention of wading into those waters, even if Obama asked, and to my surprise, he encouraged me to reconsider. ‘Who would I even suggest?’ I asked, and do you know who he recommended?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “This is going to hurt my soul to hear, isn’t it?”

  “He said, ‘I want someone smart. I want Victoria Willoughby.’”

  Victoria’s mouth opened and closed as she sat there in stunned silence, struggling to process this news. She’d met Kellen once or twice before her nomination, but they’d barely talked. Why would he want her? “But Kellen hates gay people. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d want one as a colleague.”

  Alistair shook his head. “He doesn’t hate gay people. It’s…complicated, the divide between his religious beliefs and his intellect. I can’t say I always understand it myself, and I’m sure it’s the source of a lot of my disagreements with him. But he loves this institution, and he loves brilliant minds.”

  Replaying in her mind a handful of their recent interactions, Victoria looked for any indication that Kellen had singled her out for a spot on the bench or that he was disappointed in how his choice panned out. Most of his frustration, it seemed to her, was directed more at the press and small-minded people who would rather score political points than strive for true understanding.

  “I… This… I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. In fact, I’m sure Kellen would prefer that you didn’t.”

  “Why did you tell me this?”

  “Because the Court’s going to change next year. It’s had the same members since you joined, so you’ve never gone through one of these personnel shifts. All of the dynamics change. You and I have been close, and I don’t want you to feel unmoored after I leave. Of course, you still have Jason and Michelle, who will likely agree with you on most cases. But I want you to know that Kellen’s an ally as much as an adversary.”

  Alistair brushed his knuckles against the collar of his jacket and smirked. “He can never replace my good looks and charm, naturally. But he can be a friend to you.”

  “But he hates gay people!” Maybe if she said it louder this time, Alistair would listen.

  “Victoria,” he said with an edge in his voice that he usually reserved for oral arguments, “he doesn’t hate gay people. I understand that you two aren’t going to be…braiding each other’s hair.” He winked at her.

  Which was almost as shocking as finding out Kellen had drafted her onto the Court. “You saw that post?” she said weakly.

  “I did, Justice Jax. And Kellen likes you a lot more than you think. Have an open mind about him. After all, that’s what you want from him in return, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” Victoria said.

  “Good. Now, about my retirement party. Carrot cake is my favorite, and it’s not a party without sliders.”

  Victoria held up her hands. “That’s Kellen’s territory, and he’s quite possessive of it. He’s in charge of the party, and that’s that. So take it up with him.”

  “Sheesh. He’ll probably make me submit my request in writing.”

  “Have one of your clerks hand-deliver it to his chambers.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “You two deserve each other, you know that?”

  “I know a great many things, Victoria Willoughby. Maybe one day you’ll know half of what I know.”

  She knocked her knee against his. “Smart-ass.”

  “Always.” His hip popped as he stood. “I’m going to go over my press release and resignation letter one more time before, well, that’s all she wrote.” He walked her to the door.

  “Don’t go getting all nostalgic on me already, old man.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

  Back in her office, knowing Alistair wouldn’t do it himself, she scribbled on a note, “Alistair likes carrot cake and sliders” and had one of her clerks deliver it to Kellen.

  * * *

  In the middle of July, Alistair Douglas officially announced his retirement. Standing on the Supreme Court steps with Kellen, Victoria, and the other justices on one side and President Obama on the other, he stood behind a microphone stand and cleared his throat.