Make Room for Love

Bonus Epilogue

“You’re leading me in circles to confuse me,” Mira said. “We’ve been down this road. I’m almost certain we passed that road sign ten minutes ago.”

“You’re giving me a lot of credit.” Isabel was in the passenger seat with the GPS. “I told you to take the wrong turn by accident a while back. That’s probably why.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was an accident.” They were driving deeper into the woods, and the fall foliage was blazing in its full glory. “It’s beautiful up here. I’ve never been so far upstate before.”

“You don’t know that.”

Mira smiled. “Oh, that’s right. I have no idea where we are.” Isabel had planned this vacation, and she wanted the details to be a surprise—but for all her skills and talents, driving on the freeway made her nervous. Mira had been raised in the Midwest and knew a thing or two about road trips, so she was doing all the driving, and Isabel was refusing to let her see their route on the GPS.

“Turn left up ahead,” Isabel said. Mira turned. The roads were becoming twistier, and rustic houses were tucked away among the trees. Mira slowed down and took in the view. “We’re coming up on it,” Isabel said. “A few houses down. It’s the yellow one on the right.”

Mira spotted the house up ahead. She pulled into the gravel driveway covered in fallen leaves and parked. The house was more of a cottage, its wooden exterior painted yellow and charmingly faded, nestled in the red and gold foliage all around them. “Oh, this is lovely. Is this all for us?”

“All for us.”

Mira’s heart swelled. She unbuckled her seat belt, leaned over, and gave Isabel a kiss. “You are so sweet.” Another kiss. “Thank you so much. This is perfect.”

They were two busy people, and the summer had gotten away from them. Isabel had needed another intensive round of physical therapy, and Mira had been elected as a union steward. Grace’s wedding had been wonderful, but spending several days around Isabel’s extended family hadn’t left them much time for each other. Mira finally had Isabel all to herself for this long weekend, and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.

They took their suitcases from the trunk and went inside. The cottage was as cozy as it had looked from the outside. The walls were wood-paneled, the living room had a fireplace and an overstuffed couch, and the kitchen was well-stocked—and it was small, but somehow still bigger than the one in their city apartment. The bedroom had an enormous four-poster bed. Seeing it gave Mira a frisson of anticipation.

She took a nap on top of the bedspread while Isabel unpacked. When she emerged into the kitchen, Isabel was chopping the vegetables they’d picked up at a farmstand on the way—bright orange squash, hearty greens. She smiled at Mira. “Did you get some rest?”

“I got a little beauty sleep. Can you tell?” The stress of sending out dozens of job applications while trying to finish her dissertation had been wearing her down. She washed her hands, found a cutting board and a knife, and grabbed a bundle of scallions Isabel had brought from home. “What are we making?”

“You’ll see. Want to roughly chop those?” Isabel fished out a big, wide pot from the pantry, then leaned in to kiss Mira on the cheek. “You’re always beautiful to me. But I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Thank you for taking care of everything.” During the contract negotiations, and then in her first few months of being a union steward, Mira had constantly made high-stakes decisions that were bound to make someone angry with her no matter what. That was her job, and someone had to do it. But it was a relief to set all that aside for the time being and let Isabel take care of the planning. Mira was treating them both to this vacation with all her back pay that had come in—but they weren’t keeping score.

As it turned out, they were having hot pot for dinner. Isabel set up the burner on the table on the semi-enclosed porch, and as the sun set, turning the sky purple and pink above the trees, they ate their fill of squash and greens and puffy fried tofu swimming in broth. The rice came from Isabel’s mini rice cooker—she couldn’t be accused of being underprepared, that was for sure. It explained why she’d brought two suitcases for a four-day trip.

Afterward, Isabel made a small bonfire in the pit in the backyard, fully in her element carrying logs in her flannel shirt. Mira brought out a thermos full of mulled apple cider she’d made. There was enough room on the patio chair for both of them, but she curled up on Isabel’s lap. Isabel was the perfect height for them to kiss face-to-face.

“This is a gorgeous view,” Isabel said, between apple-cider-flavored kisses. “I’m not talking about the trees.”

Mira laughed. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Don’t mess with what works.” They kissed again. It was playful but slow and deep, flooding Mira with warmth. This was pure comfort, being nestled in Isabel’s lap on a chilly night as the fire crackled and the sky darkened, silence all around aside from the rustling of leaves and the wildlife and Isabel’s heartbeat.

“Could I have a poem?” Isabel asked.

“Of course.” During Isabel’s convalescence, Mira had gotten into the habit of reading poems to Isabel in their apartment. Mira knew dozens of poems by heart, ranging from the well-trod to the obscure, the ancient to the modern. But Isabel was right—there was no reason to deviate from the classics. By now, Isabel knew this one too. “Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus…”

Let us live and let us love. Mira had first learned the poem when she was nineteen, with cautious aspirations about her place in the world but no real idea of what lay ahead of her. Nearly a decade on, she knew plenty more about living and loving both. She still had so much more to discover with Isabel by her side.

Give me a thousand kisses, and then a hundred more… When she was finished, Isabel kissed her again, softly at first, then with more urgency. When they broke apart, Isabel’s gaze was hot, the firelight flickering in her eyes. She was tense. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

After a few seconds, Mira said, “What’s on your mind?”

“I can’t wait any longer.” Isabel’s voice was thick with emotion.

She reached into her pocket. Mira had known this was coming. Even so, excitement and tenderness swelled up within her so intensely she couldn’t bear it. Isabel smiled, her face wobbling. “You’re going to have to get up for this.”

“Is that so?” Mira kissed her on the cheek and stood up. And then Isabel was on one knee, holding a box with a ring sparkling inside.

Mira had imagined this moment again and again, and they’d been talking about marriage for months—but absolutely nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Isabel kneeling in front of her. “I love you, Mira.” Each time Isabel said it, it was plain, unadorned, a fundamental truth. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to follow you wherever you go. I want to devote myself to you for as long as I live. Mira—” She let out a sob, still smiling. A tear ran down her cheek. “Will you marry me?”

Mira nodded, too overcome to speak. Isabel slipped the ring—delicate, gold, with a small dark ruby—on Mira’s finger, her strong hands trembling. Then she pulled Mira close, rested her head against Mira’s thigh, and wept. Her body heaved as Mira held her, stroking her hair and shoulders. These days, Isabel wasn’t afraid to cry. She wasn’t afraid of her own sorrow, and she wasn’t afraid of her own joy.

It wasn’t a surprise. Mira would have hated having a proposal sprung on her where she’d simply been expected to say yes. They’d talked for hours and hours over so many late nights about building a life together—Mira was applying for tenure-track jobs all over the country, and they’d had to confront the future head-on. Isabel had realized that her parents had never asked her to live a short train ride away from them for their entire lives. Mira had chipped away at her residual fear that she wasn’t worth moving across the country for.

They’d talked about all the hard things. Money, children, the very real possibility that Isabel would be injured again in her line of work. All the pragmatic concerns that added up to real, lasting love. They’d had dinner with Mira’s parents, and Isabel had put on her suit in eighty-degree weather and made them chuckle by addressing them as Ms. Levin and Dr. Srinivasan—“Please, Dr. Srinivasan is my daughter,” her father had joked. Isabel’s own parents had started treating Mira like a daughter-in-law within ten minutes of meeting her.

Pragmatism didn’t mean Mira didn’t appreciate an old-fashioned proposal, with her butch getting on one knee for her. Isabel looked up, beaming, her face streaked with tears. “You’re my fiancée.” She sniffled. “You’re going to be my wife.”

“Yes, that’s generally how it goes,” Mira said, grinning. “Come back up here. That can’t be good for your knee.”

Isabel stood up. She picked up Mira by the waist and spun her around, and Mira shrieked and laughed, giddy with love. Then Isabel dipped her for a few long kisses that made her warm from her face down to her toes. Between kisses, Isabel simply stared at her, her eyes full of wonder, as though she couldn’t believe any of this was real.

Mira could barely believe it either. But she’d gotten better at letting good things happen to her. Isabel was her fiancée and her soon-to-be wife. Mira had a lump in her throat. It wasn’t too good to be true.

“I love you so much,” Isabel said, her face lit golden by the fire and bright with joy. “I thought I’d take you on a hike, or make you a special dinner, or something. But I couldn’t wait.” She gave Mira a sheepish, breathtakingly beautiful smile. “I wanted to spend this whole trip having you as my fiancée. I couldn’t go another minute without being engaged to you.”

“You picked the right time.” Mira held Isabel close and pressed her cheek against Isabel’s flannel shirt. “It was perfect.”

She pushed Isabel back onto the patio chair and climbed on top, straddling her. Isabel’s big hands grabbed her waist and pulled her in, and Mira shimmied forward, letting her skirt ride up. They kissed hungrily, and Mira squeezed her thighs tight around Isabel’s hips, needing Isabel’s warmth, needing closeness. Their kisses were tinged with the salt of Isabel’s earlier tears.

Isabel’s hands slipped under the front hem of Mira’s sweater. She stroked Mira’s bare skin above the waistband of her skirt, asking a question. Mira trembled and arched her back, and Isabel’s hands went higher and cupped her breasts over her bra. Mira’s warm contentment turned into something hotter. She loved melting in Isabel’s hands.

Isabel kissed her and felt her up until she was moaning and grinding against Isabel’s lap. “Wish you didn’t have these tights on,” Isabel murmured. “Always getting in the way. Maybe you should go bare under your skirts and dresses this weekend. I’ll keep you warm.” She took out one hand from Mira’s sweater and stroked her sensitive inner thigh.

Mira squirmed. “That’s a lot to promise. You can still touch me in these tights.” She was relaxed and warm, and it wouldn’t take much more for her to come in Isabel’s lap. A treat before the main course.

Isabel’s hand moved upward. She pressed the heel of her hand against Mira’s center, and the jolt of pleasure made Mira whimper as she rolled her hips for more. Isabel could get her off in an instant anywhere, clothes or no clothes.

Isabel took her hand away. “Not here.” Her voice had a hint of a growl. “When you come for me, I want to see you in nothing but the ring on your finger.”

Mira gasped, her body lighting up. She pushed her hips forward again, craving Isabel, but it was futile. “Wait for me to put the fire out, sweetheart,” Isabel said. “Then we’re going inside.”

Isabel carried Mira back into the house and into the bedroom with its four-poster bed—a simple pleasure, and one she’d missed. She wouldn’t always be able to carry Mira in her arms. She probably wouldn’t when she was eighty. But she was going to enjoy it for as long as she could.

She set Mira down on top of the covers, turned on the bedside lamp, and closed the door. Mira was already turned on, her face flushed, her well-kissed lips parted as her breaths came fast. Her ring glinted in the light, and Isabel couldn’t stop staring at it. She’d picked it out months ago at a vintage shop with Grace’s help, and she’d been feverishly imagining it on Mira’s finger ever since. The ring was finally where it belonged.

Mira stretched out on the bed and smiled slyly. “Now that I’m your fiancée, you can have your way with me whenever you want. Is that right?”

So Mira was in that kind of mood. “That’s right,” Isabel said, bubbling with pleasure at your fiancée. “Undress for me, sweetheart.”

Mira sat up and pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing the sheer pink lace bra from their first night together. Isabel froze in the middle of unbuttoning her own shirt. Mira’s bra came off, and then her skirt and tights—of course she had the matching pink panties on. Those came off, too.

Mira lay down and looked up at Isabel. Her curves were luminous in the glow of the lamp. Her chest rose and fell, and her nipples were hard and practically begging for Isabel’s mouth. She let her legs fall open, giving Isabel a glimpse of the dark, flushed folds under her damp curls. Isabel was dizzy with need. She was engaged to this woman.

“I’m ready,” Mira said. She cupped one of her breasts with her left hand and rolled her thumb over her nipple. Her ring shone in the light along with her plum-colored nails. Then her hand moved down, settling between her legs, and she moved her fingers in slow circles. Her breath stuttered.

Isabel was mesmerized. Desire made her weak. “I thought I was supposed to be the one having my way with you.”

“I couldn’t wait.” Mira moved her hand faster and looked at Isabel through her eyelashes. The slick sound of her fingers drove Isabel crazy. “I can’t help myself. I think I need to be tied up.”

A surge of heat rushed through Isabel as she let out a laugh. “Yeah, I think you do. Put your hands above your head, sweetheart.”

Isabel had brought the contents of their entire toy drawer—she’d known it would be worth the suitcase space. Mira stretched her arms above her head, and the long, graceful lines of her body were hypnotic. Isabel had to force herself to look away so she could get the coils of rope. They had more straightforward ways of making sure Mira’s wrists stayed put, but Isabel loved the intimacy of tying Mira, loved seeing her handiwork on Mira’s body.

She looped the rope around Mira’s right wrist, made the knot, and tied the rope to the bedpost, then did the same for her left wrist. Seeing the ring on Mira’s finger, Isabel smiled again. Maybe someday she’d take it for granted, but not today. Mira tugged gently against her restraints. “Good?” Isabel asked.

“Good.” Mira was beautiful when she was tied up, both vulnerable and self-possessed, fully trusting Isabel to give her everything she needed. Isabel took her shirt and pants off, then crawled on top of Mira in her undershirt and boxer briefs, unable to wait another moment. She kissed Mira on the mouth, and Mira squirmed underneath her as she kissed back hungrily, vibrating with impatience.

“You want it bad, don’t you?” Isabel murmured. She kissed and licked and nipped at Mira’s neck, her ears, her collarbones. Teasing her sweet spots, making her whine. If Mira had her hands free, she’d rake Isabel’s scalp and back with her nails, push Isabel’s head between her thighs—but tonight she was helpless.

Isabel used her knees to pin Mira’s legs apart so she couldn’t squeeze her thighs together or grind against anything. Then she closed her mouth over one of Mira’s perfect nipples and circled it with the tip of her tongue. Mira whimpered, her legs thrashing. “Isabel.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re awful. I should divorce you.”

Isabel laughed. “So you’ll marry me, is what you’re saying.”

She kissed Mira’s other nipple, and Mira inhaled sharply. “I said that earlier,” she said, panting. “Weren’t you paying attention?”

“I was distracted. The most beautiful woman in the world was in front of me.” At that, Mira scoffed. She was gorgeous like this, needy and flushed, her nipples wet from Isabel’s mouth. “We have all weekend,” Isabel said. “There’s no rush.” She didn’t usually spend much time teasing Mira—she liked to get to the point. But having Mira like this, frustrated and squirming, was a treat.

“Are you going to keep me tied to the bed all weekend?”

That was a tempting idea, but… “No.” Isabel pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin between Mira’s breasts. “I’m going to have you in that big claw-foot tub in the bathroom. And on the rug in front of the fireplace. And I’m going to do other things to you in this bed.” Mira let out a whimper, which became a cry as Isabel sucked her nipple, harder this time. “You’re going to ride my face and my strap until your thighs give out. And then I’ll put you on your hands and knees and fuck you again.”

Mira made a desperate sound, one she usually only made while she was getting fucked—that had been the right thing for Isabel to say. “I’ll hold you to that,” Mira said, voice breathy with need.

Isabel made her way up and nibbled Mira’s earlobe. “What’s the most number of times you’ve come in one night, do you think?”

Mira squirmed. “Four, I think—ah—you’re making it hard to remember.”

Isabel tongued the sensitive spot behind Mira’s ear, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “Does that include the time you woke me up in the middle of the night because you hadn’t had enough?” Mira had just gotten back from a week-long conference, and she’d been insatiable. She hadn’t meant to wake up Isabel, but Isabel had been happy to help.

“That doesn’t count.”

Isabel shimmied lower. “I think it does.” She took one of Mira’s nipples into her mouth again.

Mira gasped, her back arching. Isabel could worship her breasts for hours. “That’s different. I had some time to sleep—ah—that’s not fair, you’re distracting me. Anyway, you might as well count all the times we had sex again the next morning, if you’re going to count that.”

“Okay, so the answer is six? Seven?”

Mira groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

Isabel smiled. “You want to try for five tonight?”

Mira inhaled shakily—she liked that idea. “Well, I can’t help you out.” She squirmed against her rope cuffs for emphasis. “So you’d better get started instead of teasing me all day.”

“Fair point.” Isabel moved lower. She firmly pushed Mira’s thighs up and apart, drawing out a delighted gasp. Isabel knew how to cut to the chase when she needed to, and a heady thrill ran through her as she dove in with her mouth. Mira let out a gorgeous throaty moan, her heels digging into the mattress so hard that the bed shifted underneath Isabel. There was nothing better than this—Mira’s taste in her mouth, Mira’s thighs wrapped around her head, Mira’s pleasure the only thing that mattered in the world.

She honed in on Mira’s clit and flicked it with her tongue in that way that drove Mira crazy. Mira gasped and bucked her hips against Isabel’s face, trying to get leverage however she could with her wrists tied to the bed. She was close, shockingly close—and she came with a surprised cry, thighs clamping around Isabel’s head.

Her heaving gasps turned into giggles. Isabel scrambled up the bed and held her close, careful to mind her restraints, swelling with emotion. It was the first time she’d made her fiancée come. She cradled Mira’s head and stroked her tousled hair. “I could get used to this,” Mira said, her breaths still ragged. “You having your way with me.”

“We’re only getting started.” The first one was just for taking the edge off. Isabel kissed Mira, letting her taste herself on Isabel’s mouth. “Four more to go.”

More kisses to Mira’s neck, her ears, her collarbones—she was so sensitive after her orgasm. Down to her breasts, her stomach. Mira giggled as Isabel licked her impossibly soft inner thighs, so close to but so far from where Mira wanted her mouth. The scent of Mira was delicious. “Are you trying to get me to beg?” Mira asked.

“You can if you want.” Isabel’s words were muffled. “It won’t make any difference. I’m going to take my time enjoying you.”

“Please?”

Isabel let out a laugh. Who was she kidding? “All right.”

She nudged Mira’s thighs apart again, and shivered with arousal as she pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Mira’s pussy. Mira let out a gasp that went straight to Isabel’s clit. The hot, dull ache grew as she kept eating out her girl, kept giving her what she needed, as though Mira’s pleasure were her own—and, really, it was.

Mira’s second orgasm didn’t take long. Afterward, she quivered in Isabel’s arms, her eyes dazed and glassy, her hair a mess on the pillow. “So beautiful,” Isabel murmured. It wasn’t that Mira didn’t know she was beautiful, but Isabel couldn’t stop herself from saying it.

She got up and checked Mira’s hands and wrists to make sure she was all right, and traced her thumb over the ring on Mira’s finger. “I’m not done with you,” she said.

Mira squeezed her hand. “You’d better not be.”

Isabel got the big wand vibrator out. She would have liked to use her hand, but her wrist wasn’t at its best today, and Mira would want her to take care of herself. She settled in next to Mira, turned the vibrator to the setting Mira liked, and pressed it right above Mira’s clit. Then she slowly moved it downward, letting Mira adjust her hips and ease into it. Her breaths were coming fast—and then she thrashed and cried out. “Too much?” Isabel asked.

“No, no, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Keep it there.”

Isabel did as she was told. “You know you can be louder. There’s no one around. And I love hearing you.”

When Mira came a third time, she was well past the point of being able to hold back the noises she made. Isabel stayed close, cushioning her as she thrashed and trembled. Mira said, gasping, “I need something inside me. Please.”

Isabel had been about to ask if she wanted to keep going, but that question was settled. “You want my fingers or a dildo?”

“Did you bring the big one?”

Isabel smiled. “Of course.” It would be a lot to take, but she didn’t bother asking Mira whether she was sure.

Isabel took out the dildo and climbed back onto the bed. She let Mira get it wet with her mouth. Then she settled between Mira’s legs, added more lube, and rested the blunt tip of it against Mira’s entrance. Mira inhaled sharply, then nodded. Isabel started easing it in.

Mira whimpered and pushed her hips forward, wrists straining against the rope. “Careful,” Isabel said, her heart pounding. Mira’s face was contorted in pleasure, her thighs as wide apart as she could spread them, her gorgeous pussy slick and swollen and stretched around the thick dildo. And she was still impatient for more. “I can’t believe you,” Isabel murmured. She slowly pushed the dildo in, with her other hand on Mira’s quivering thigh.

“Oh, that’s good,” Mira said, head tossed back on the pillow, breasts heaving as she breathed through the intensity of being filled all the way up. “Go faster.”

Isabel wasn’t going to give her this one. “I will. Be patient.”

She was true to her word. Eventually, she added the vibrator back in. Mira was exquisite when she was overstimulated—and when she came a fourth time, she was half-feral as she screamed. “I don’t know if I can come again,” she mumbled afterward, shivering as Isabel held her, giving her the solidity she needed.

“You want to stop, sweetheart?” Isabel asked.

Mira shook her head. “I want to try.”

Isabel let out a laugh. She loved her precious fiancée so much. “Let me untie you.” She needed to feel Mira’s hands on her again.

She got Mira out of the rope cuffs, massaged the marks on her wrists, and held her close. Mira ran her hands through Isabel’s hair and over her back, and Isabel shivered at finally being touched, her slow-burning arousal flaring back up. “Why are you still dressed?” Mira asked.

That was a good question. “I got impatient.”

Mira slipped a hand under her T-shirt. “I can’t believe you called me impatient. Take your clothes off.”

Isabel did. It was unbelievably good to feel Mira skin-to-skin all the way down. She’d soaked through her underwear, and she was so wet that her thighs were slick. Mira pushed her down onto the bed—it was incredible that she still had the energy for it. She slid a thigh between Isabel’s legs and pushed down hard, and Isabel gasped. Mira pressed their foreheads together, her lush hair falling around Isabel’s face as their eyes met. “You’re my fiancée, too. It’s my turn. Will you give me the vibrator?”

Isabel handed it over, and Mira wasted no time in getting it between their bodies. She turned it on, and even the lowest setting shocked Isabel and made her moan after she’d been waiting for so long. They laughed as they figured out how to fit themselves together so Mira could grind against the vibrator and kiss Isabel at the same time. Every time Isabel got used to the sensation, Mira mercilessly turned up the vibrator another notch, and Isabel came in no time at all, tangled up in Mira, utterly helpless.

“So gorgeous,” Mira said, breathless, giving Isabel a break but still moving her own hips as the vibrator buzzed. “Can you do that for me again?”

Isabel nodded. When Mira came for the fifth time, face-to-face with Isabel, it was slow and sweet—Mira’s eyes fluttering shut as she gasped, her breath hot against Isabel’s cheek. Isabel sensed every seismic wave rolling through Mira’s soft, overwhelmed body along with the rumble of the vibrator, and it sent her tumbling over the edge again, lost in pleasure and love.

They collapsed in a sticky heap, with Mira covering Isabel like a blanket. “We can’t be setting any more records like this on special occasions,” Mira said, loose-limbed and spent. “I’m not going to make it through the honeymoon if you keep this up.”

They would be married. Isabel grinned. A lump formed in her throat again. “I think it’s worth trying.” She stroked Mira’s back, making her shiver—she was still deliciously sensitive even now. “Maybe for our anniversary. A special one. Our fiftieth anniversary.” Nothing in life was certain, but Isabel let herself imagine it: Mira as a retired professor with a lifetime of teaching and research and labor organizing she looked back on with pride. Their kids and grandkids surrounding them. Isabel still by her side.

Mira snorted gently. “I love you,” she said, her words blurred by exhaustion. Her eyelids were drooping. They would have to clean up, but Isabel could let her doze off for a few minutes. “I love you so much. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Isabel wiped a tear away. Mira’s eyes closed, and her head slumped against Isabel’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to be yours,” Isabel whispered. It was all right if Mira didn’t hear it this time—she’d hear it tomorrow morning. Isabel would never let her forget it. She’d never let Mira forget how much Isabel cherished her for as long as they lived.