Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s not because Waverly’s heart is beating harder than usual, though it is, rather it’s like there are two hearts beating in her chest at once. It’s the way she struts around with sex in her eyes, a knife in her front pocket, and danger written all over that shoots through Waverly's veins like crack.

This girl is bangin’ coming through the door in all black, skin tight jeans, leather jacket, and a swagger that screams heartbreaker. She is too. Waverly’s heard stories about her, the ex-wife, and all the poor pitiful assholes who fell for her thereafter. They all ended in a pint of mint chocolate chip Häagen-Dazs and a box of tissues.

“Waverly this is Nicole Haught. She is going to be your new wife.” The pen falls from her hand and as soon as it hits the ground all the air leaves her body like she’s been kicked in the stomach by the world’s largest Clydesdale. It’s not enough that her confusion and disbelief emits in the surrounding air and clings to her skin like sweat. But then, for the full thirty seconds it takes her to fumble around for that pen at her feet her heart stops beating altogether.

“Nicole this is Waverly…”

“We’ve met.” Nicole cuts in the ‘t’ over-annunciated. She drops herself in the chair across from Waverly without so much as a glance, as if meeting your soon to be wife is as humdrum as ordering a tall none fat latte.

Nicole doesn’t drink lattes though. Nicole eats what Waverly likes to call the breakfast of champions. It’s 8:05 am when trouble comes ringing Waverly’s bell asking for a grape Monster and a lemon scone-no poppyseeds. She waltzes into Eden’s Coffee House torturing Waverly with her good looks and bad attitude while Waverly rings her up and checks her out.

Nicole tugs the zipper loose on the messenger bag slung across her chest and pulls out a manila envelope. The envelope is dropped to the table with a soft smack and the messenger bag lifted over her shoulder and left at her feet. The papers she empties are perfectly neat still crisp and white, polished just like she is, while Waverly’s have wrinkles and creases, such as her life. There may even be some Siracha from late night stress eating vegan tacos.

“Alright. So, I assume you have both taken an adequate amount of time to review your contracts?”

Fingers trembling palms sweaty Waverly rifles through her paperwork not sure what she’s even searching for, anything but the cocky asshole sitting across from her. She’s read every page four or five times in preparation for today. She was not, however, prepared to sit in this room not so different from the interrogation room in the Purgatory police station agreeing to marry Nicole Mother Truckin’ Haught. That was not listed anywhere on pages 1-87.

Wait until her sister finds out. Wynonna’s going to shit a brick. She was not too keen on Waverly marrying a random stranger in the first place.

Nicole’s lips purse together, her eyes narrow and burn with intensity shifting over the paperwork in front of her. She tucks a lock of hair behind one ear revealing a simple silver stud pierced through her earlobe. Her hair, red and full of messy waves, curls delicately around her neck where it’s tucked. Waverly looks the leather-clad goddess up and down hating herself for lusting after such a felonious individual. Fuck her even her penmanship is sexy.

Nicole is like James Dean, Johnny Castle, maybe even a little bit Joan Jett. She’s got that Hollywood bad boy look down to a T. She’s the type to take home to daddy just to piss him off, and it would. Nicole’s suave, fully loaded, charmed, and dangerous. She’s any girl’s wet dream and she’s a total shit head.

In high school Nicole was the kid sitting in the backseat of the police car next to Wynonna, just to clarify, not with Wynonna. Wynonna can’t stand Nicole either. Nicole punched her in the mouth during an impromptu sparring session in juvenile detention and went all WWE on her with a chair. Anger management anyone?

She exudes alpha macho bullshit out of her pores. Even now she tries to own the room by thickening the air with an overwhelming sense of confidence. Waverly’s head sinks into the palm of her hand as she leans harder on her elbow biting her lower lip. Her elbow slips with an embarrassing squeak when she finds herself rolling around in the stench of it. Get your head out of the gutter Earp. This is business not pleasure.

“Let’s begin with the first page. We will briefly run through each term. Once you understand and have asked any questions if you agree please initial in the space provided.”

Waverly nervously flattens her hand over the topmost tattered page. For the sake of dignity and poise, she’s thankful this page is Siracha negative. She has already initialed every line with pencil first and then again in pen. This time is the real deal. It’s go time. As soon as she slides these thoroughly reviewed forms over to Robin she will be bound and shackled to ABC’s Newlyweds for the next year of her life.

Why? Because $200,000 is a lot of fucking money. After her time is up, she’ll have the money to pay her tuition bill without enough debt to drown a small village or shed an arm, a leg, and the promise of her first born.

“So of course, we will start with the wedding which will be paid for by Paradise Garden Entertainment. The wedding will be public—friends’ family what have you are welcome to come and celebrate.” Robin waves his pen around occasionally nibbling the cap as he reads through each line with zest. A little too much for Waverly’s taste, but maybe that’s just her own apprehensions and concerns dialing back the volume.

“It will be televised. Some wedding planning and preparation may be as well. The wedding vows and wedding interviews will be scripted so no need to fret there ladies.” He chuckles.

“You’re not going to make me say some cheesy bullshit about soulmates or love at first sight, are you?” Nicole leans back in her chair arms folded over her chest as any good bully would. “Because I might just throw up.” She spits.

“I understand your concern, Ms. Haught. As it is your wedding, of course, you can be a part of the writing process.” Robin winks and merrily jots down a few notes on a yellow legal notepad.

“The marriage is to last for a duration of 365 days starting next Saturday, March 2nd .” He rambles on. Those three numbers stir up some kind of funk in Waverly’s gut. This is unreal. She must have gone insane agreeing to do something like this.

She’s not just agreeing to marry some nicotine pumped dirtbag for a year but she’s agreeing to do it on national television. If she were to Google the definition of insane right now a picture of her stupid naïve face would pop up under images. Oh god after this my face really might pop up on Google images…next to Honey Boo Boo and the Kardashians.

“Upon the 365th day, you will each receive a check for your winnings of $200,000…”

“What about the divorce?” Nicole blurts.

“Our producers will fabricate a reason for your divorce, something juicy and scandalous that can be sold to entertainment news. That will conclude your relationship to the public, however, what happens beyond that is up to the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” Waverly asks.

“Haven’t you seen the show before?”

Waverly shakes her head slowly trying not to encourage the world to shake any faster around her. “I don’t really watch TV.” She admits.

“What he is trying to say is, some people choose not to get divorced after the year is up.”

“Wh-why not?”

Robin’s eyebrows perk up and a warm smile dresses his face that matches the sparkling gems of his eyes. “Love Ms. Earp.”

“Love?” Hold on now! No one said anything about love. She would have remembered that in the contract. Waverly’s definitely not falling in love with Nicole no matter how sexy she would look on a motorcycle.

“Don’t shit your pants, Waverly, there won't be any love coming from over here.” Nicole retorts.

There’s a full-on boxing match screaming in Waverly’s head that threatens to knock her out cold. In one corner is a well-developed abhorrence for the short-tempered little hooligan, that fuck if it doesn’t flare up every morning like an ulcer and make her coffee taste bad. In the other corner, with a mean right hook, Waverly’s got the hots for the tall sassy redhead and right now her disgust is clinging to the ropes with a split lip and two black eyes.

There’s just something about rejection and deeply rooted daddy issues that gets a hot flush to migrate up her chest from the bite in Nicole’s words. She leans over the table, back to biting her lower lip, semi-hoping that the dip in her collar will earn her some points, but Nicole keeps her eyes on the target and the target is, not Waverly.

Robin ducks his head hiding behind his copy of the contract. He clears his throat. “During your time as a married couple what you do inside your home is your business except on film days of course. Interviews will be conducted inside of the home and will not be scripted.”

“So, what are we supposed to say during those interviews?”

“That is up to you Ms. Earp. You will be prompted with questions but really the interviews should be as organic as possible.” He clears his throat again. “Outside of the home you agree to keep up the appearance of a married couple be that through PDA, dates, etc—basically anything you would do with any other romantic partner, but we really have to sell this ladies.”

Robin warned her there would be drama. Lots of drama. The kind of drama that will interrupt the average Americans frozen TV dinner at 9 pm on a Wednesday. Commercials will feel excruciatingly long in anticipation of what’s to happen next. But wait, there’s more! It won’t just be blasted on cable, magazines plastered with rumors and fairy tale bullshit will line the check stands next to Funyuns and Snickers. Its entertainment Ms. Earp, people love drama, and they love love.

What will Nicole say when she finds out Waverly wrecked the car on girl’s night? Who was the other woman seen at the club with Nicole? Could this be the end of it all? Stay tuned to find out.

“Oh, and you will attend weekly couples’ therapy with our therapist on staff Dr. Svane. He will help you through this time. You can speak with him freely. Nothing you discuss will be shared with the public it will all be confidential.” Robin pauses. His voice continues with a smidge less color and a hint of mischief. “In addition, Dr. Svane will offer you the opportunity to earn extra cash to be awarded immediately upon the completion of a ‘side quest.’” He quotes with his fingers.

“What’s a side quest?” Waverly asks ignoring the way Nicole flicks her tongue over her lower lip and tucks her hair behind one ear for the second time.

“The quest will be something spontaneous and simple. Nothing dangerous.” He dismisses with his hand and giggles nervously. “The quests can be declined without any penalty. They are simply for show you see.”

“Seems unethical for a therapist.” Nicole says.

“Mm.” Robin nods. “As mentioned, you may decline any and all extra tasks. That is completely at your discretion.”

“Moving on to page two.” Robbin licks his finger and flips the page. “Nicole has volunteered her home for the sake of residence during your term. Have you had a chance to take a look at the wedding planner binder?”

“No.” Nicole snorts.

“A little.” Waverly’s eyes drop to the table, she hugs herself, and sighs. She got as far as the table of contents—dresses, cakes, food, venues, it was all immediately overwhelming. The last time she thought about a wedding she was five years old and wanted to marry John Stamos in the Cinderella Castle at Disney World. Where to even begin planning a TV-worthy dream wedding and how is she supposed to figure it all out in a week?

“I can see the distress on your faces. Have no fear the wedding planner is here!” Waverly looks up and around. “Well, not literally but her number is here on this card.” He slides a card to the middle of the table and double taps it with his index finger. “Rosita Bustillo is our lovely wedding coordinator and she will be here with you every step of the way.”

“Great.” Nicole sneers. She skips past the next 84 remaining pages and looks to Robin impatiently. “I initialed everything else and have zero questions.”

“Ms. Earp? Any Questions?”

She swallows. Hundreds. She knows damn well what she’s agreeing to, every detailed except the ticking time bomb sitting across the table teetering on the edge of insanity. What hell will Nicole bring to her life for the next year? Will they fight? Will they even talk? She can’t imagine them cuddling up to Netflix binge-watching Gilmore Girls.

Waverly will have to wear all these uncertainties like a part of her wardrobe, but it’s fine. She can do this because she’s got dollar signs in her eyes and soon to have a one-way ticket out of Purgatory. You got this Earp. “I don’t have any questions.”

“Very good.” Robin flips to the final page in his stack of papers as well. He bites the edge of his pen eyes moving rapidly down the page as he hums. “The last thing I must read out loud to you is the liability clause. By signing you agree and understand that Paradise Garden Entertainment and ABC Television are not liable for any personal injury and/or property damages that may occur on or off-camera. You release all responsibility from PGE and ABC directors, producers, employees, and any and all staff…”

Nicole doesn’t wait for him to finish before drawing graceful loops and swirls over the final line and stamping the date. She slides over her perfectly kept 87 pages and forces a smile. “We done?”

“Of course, but I would recommend we get Ms. Earp moved in and settled as soon as possible with the wedding being in 7 days and all. Preferable before the wedding as we will begin shooting immediately.”

“Fine.” She jams her hand in her front pocket and wiggles around until she brings it out with a key, then slings it across the table. Waverly barely catches it before it hits the floor. “Move in whenever.”

It’s just an ordinary key. It’s average size, a typical bronze color, and a silver key ring looped through the hole at the top. It looks like almost every other key Waverly’s ever seen with grooves and edges that fit a lock. A key is a key right?

But there’s nothing ordinary about this key. This key owns a year of her life. It’s worth $200,000, it’s her get out of jail free card, and it’s her future molded from nickel and brass.

This key belongs to Nicole Haught.

***

Waverly tears open a new package of paper coffee sleeves and expels half of them to the floor. “Trouble at 1 o’clock,” Waverly says half-hidden in the supply closet behind the counter. Her fake enthusiasm is underlined in the bell chime above the door and the silence thereafter.

The rips in Nicole’s jeans have frayed leaving strings to dangle and swing at her thighs and her knees. Waverly turns up her nose. What’s worse is the way Nicole’s keys jingle from the carabiner attached to her belt loop when her Timberlands beat the laminate. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear with a gloved hand, the kind of gloves with no fingers, and adjusts the strap of her messenger bag across her chest. There’s a thin pink line of irritation where the strap has sawed away at her neck.

“Welcome to Eden’s what can I get started for you?” Chrissy chirps.

“You can start by toning it down a notch. No one’s this happy at 8 am.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. The package of coffee sleeves slips through her fingers and joins the mess on the floor. She steps over it.

“Hey!” Gus snaps. Gus abandons her inventory clipboard and pen and scrambles to gather the sleeves splayed out on the floor. “Kids these days have no respect I tell yah.”

Waverly shoulders Chrissy aside and hammers on the touch screen with her fingers. She doesn’t look up at first. She knows Nicole’s order. It’s not hard to remember and Nicole’s been coming in every day for the last year. “One lemon scone and one grape Monster.”

She sometimes comes in at night too with her laptop and stacks of paperwork. How much paperwork can a bike messenger possibly have?

Waverly’s words waiver when she finally does lookup. The harden line on Nicole’s face softens like putty leaving behind something sweet almost puppy dog-like. It’s just a mask. She does this sometimes, pretends to be all nice and cute, but Nicole doesn’t have to be nice or cute to get attention. She gets plenty, but she only dates bad girls just like herself. Wynonna says she was dating some hot mess named Kevin who hangs around one of the biker bars off the Highway. Wynonna’s words. “That’ll be $6.50…unless you’re trying something different today.”

The answer is given in the ten-dollar bill she slides over the counter. “No change.” Nicole keeps her eyes on Waverly as Waverly opens the till slips in the money, and drops the change in the tip jar. She’s not sure if she should smile or keep her head down until it’s safe again.

Next to her Chrissy bags up the lemon scone, places it on the coffee bar, and shuffles back quickly like she suspects Nicole will bite. Nicole grabs it and her Monster from the refreshment cooler like she does every day on a loop. She carries it to the same table in the back corner by the window, sheds her leather jacket, and plops down. The Monster cracks and hisses when it’s opened. Waverly can almost smell the chemically produced grape from behind the register. “I can’t stand her.”

“Why? She seems to like you.” Chrissy teases.

“Pfft not likely.”

“Really? Because you’re the only one she tips…oh also, you’re the one she’s marrying.”

Jeremy puts his hands up. His mouth is full of blueberry muffin and when he speaks tiny crumbs litter his apron. “So, how’d that meeting with that TV guy go? What was his name?” He snaps his fingers.

“You mean super cute Robin?”

Jeremey blushes. “Was he cute? I don’t remember.”

“I still can’t believe you’re going through with this…and with her.” Chrissy says. She uncaps a new jug of caramel syrup and plunges in the pump, then moves on to the amaretto. Jeremy ducks under their conversation muffin still in hand and disappears into the supply closet with Gus.

“Boy I know you’re not eating behind my counters.”

“I have got to get out of here…” Waverly sighs and scuffs her shoe on the floor absentmindedly. “…and I need money to do it.”

“What am I going to do around here without you?”

“You’ll manage.”

“Who is going to eat a roll of Toll House cookie dough with me and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns?”

Waverly laughs and squats to grab a fleeing coffee sleeve lodged under the counter. She lingers on the floor with the sleeve pinched between her fingers and takes a sneak peek across the stainless steel counter at her 7-day fiancé. That might be an entirely different show altogether, but it doesn’t seem that far off. What would Tyra think about this?

Nicole looks up from the comic book she’s laid out on the table, and a stupid smirk develops over her face like she’s reading Waverly’s thoughts. She even has the audacity to wink before bringing the Monster to her lips.

Nicole was married once before, to a doctor. What self-respecting doctor would marry a delinquent like Nicole? Maybe that’s why it didn’t last. She’s been divorced for over a year now. Waverly’s only heard rumors about it—gambling, drugs, sex, and rock n’ roll. They’re just rumors, but everything about Nicole screams truth.

Nicole was four years ahead in school just like Wynonna. But she was held back, twice, just like Wynonna. They both ended up in the Rebound School for Opportunity junior year. Wynonna dropped out, but Nicole came back to Purgatory High to graduate and boy did students give her shit for it.

Trust fund baby. That’s what they called her. Nicole got away with everything because her grandparents were loaded. That’s what Samantha Baker said anyways. Nicole was every teacher’s personal hell. She was disruptive, angry, short-tempered, and likely to get into fights. She broke Champs's nose once. He deserved it honestly.

“Waverly you wanna pick up a shift tonight? Stephanie called out sick.” Gus grunts. The phone still hangs in her hand. "Again."

“Sorry Gus, I’m packing tonight.”

“Is that what you kids call it these days?” She frowns with pity pulling at her lips. “You can do better than Champ Hardy girl.”

“What-that’s not what I meant.”

“You’re a smart girl. I figured you would have outgrown him by now.”

“We’re not dating. We’re just…”

Gus throws her hands up waving around the phone and turns the other way. “I don’t want to know.”

Waverly sticks her tongue out at the back of Gus’s head. Chrissy snickers before she turns back to the amaretto.

If Waverly’s going to marry Nicole, she wants to know more about her, and she can’t just sit here getting high off coffee beans while she waits. “Gus I’m going on a break.”

Nicole doesn’t look up, but a noticeable smile spreads over her face. “I am sorry but I’m not fully human until after I’ve finished my scone and had—” Nicole slides her pointer finger ¾’s of the way down her Monster “this much of my daily vitamins. You’ll have to leave a message or come back later.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. She’s not going to let this smart ass intimidate her today. “Seeing as how we are getting married in four days I thought we should talk.”

The Monster can bends slightly under the soft flex of Nicole’s fingers. She looks up this time without smiling. It’s only after she licks the corner of her mouth that Waverly notices her eyes transition to a deep brooding brown. Waverly shifts her weight and coughs out the thump in her heart as the dangerous chill of a Stephanie Meyer’s novel tickles down her spine. Nicole says nothing.

After an awkward 30 seconds of staring at the floor in silence, Waverly pulls out a chair with her foot and slumps down dramatically across from Nicole. She hits her elbow on the table in the process. “Ow.” She whispers.

Nicole tucks her hair behind one ear. Her lip twitches into an almost smile as she returns to her comic book. “Do you like dinosaurs?”

While this is not exactly her intended conversation, maybe the quickest way to a bully’s heart is…dinosaurs? “They’re okay, I guess. Do you like them?”

Nicole flips the comic around and pushes it across the table until it hits Waverly’s knuckles. It’s a lot less aggressive than the key Nicole shot at her a few days ago.

Waverly doesn’t read the text, but from what she gathers it’s a bunch of safari looking dudes hunting a t-rex. It’s kind of sad. “They’re okay, I guess. This though,” She taps it with her finger “is a comic adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s Sound of Thunder.”

“I have never heard of that. What’s it about?” This feels eerily like petting a purring cat right before it bites the crap out of you. Just keep her talking and maybe you’ll live.

“It’s kind of like trophy hunting. Only people pay to travel back millions of years to hunt dinosaurs and other extinct species.”

“That’s awful.”

Waverly looks up to meet Nicole’s eyes. They’re warm and bright like honey as she talks. She seems harmless, a little bit normal, sweet even. Please don’t bite me. “Maybe, but they only hunt dinosaurs that are going to die anyway.” She guzzles the remainder of the Monster, rips off the tab, and sets the can aside.

“All the dinosaurs died anyway…mostly.”

“I mean like within minutes, and if they did kill any dinosaurs that weren’t dying immediately, it would change their future, slash, their present.” She licks her lips and takes the comic book back sheltering it under her arms protectively.

“Oh, okay like a butterfly effect.”

Nicole nods. Her dimples send Waverly’s stomach on a ride before her smile even fully blooms. “Exactly.” Waverly can hardly fight her own smile forcing its way across her lips. She wants to hate Nicole. She's always had a strong aversion for the little rebel without a cause, or so she thought.

Nicole pulls out a stick of gum from her jacket. She wads up the silver wrapper and lets it fall to the floor. “Gum?”

Waverly shakes her head swallowing the need to pick it up and scold Nicole for leaving it there. This Nicole she can live with. Sweet nerdy comic book reading Nicole with a gorgeous smile that will swirl around in Waverly’s head for days. “I looked at the wedding binder. I circled some stuff I liked. Maybe we can go through it together tomorrow?”

Those deep brooding eyes return with the flexing muscles in Nicole’s jaw biting down hard on that gum. The energy coming out of them pushes Waverly back in her seat. How can someone go from dimples and honey to ‘here’s Johnny’ in a matter of seconds?

“Does it really matter?” Nicole cocks her head like a bird of prey. “Why’d you come over here?”

“Jeez Louise! I just thought...”

“You’d pretend you’re interested in me and my opinions? Act like you don’t think I’m some low life asshole. Like you don’t judge me behind the counter with your little friends?”

“Woah! That’s not at all what I’m—this is your wedding too! Maybe you should give a damn.”

“Fake wedding.” Nicole slaps the comic book shut and shuffles it into her bag. She shrugs on her jacket, grabs the bag, and throws the Monster can in the trash. The fire in Nicole’s words erupts like tiny little adrenalin volcanoes all over Waverly’s body. Now everything in her tells her to fight. She skyrockets up from her seat and marches over to Nicole bringing her own fire with her.

“This goes in the recycling!” The tab’s been ripped off the can and dropped inside. It rattles as Waverly shakes it in front of Nicole’s face. Nicole tilts her head, her brooding eyes sparkle with a dark amusement, and a whisper of dimples suggests a laugh. She watches Waverly drop the can in the blue recycling bin triggering an avalanche of cans and water bottles. Waverly cringes at the sound. “See it’s not hard.”

The punishment for lecturing Nicole is gum. She latches onto Waverly with a chilling stare, takes the gum from her mouth, holds one end with her teeth, and lets it stretch thin before pressing it to the wall with her thumb. Waverly’s jaw drops. This is assholery her sister would say.

“Are you going to clean that up too?” She taunts.

“Do you practice being a little prick in the mirror in the morning or is it just natural talent?”

“Why pick just one?”

“Grow up!”

“You grow up.” Waverly can smell the Nicotine and vanilla hot on her breath when Nicole inches closer. Nicole licks her lips. “You have syrup on your shirt by the way.” She fakes a smile, side steps around Waverly, and pushes her way through the door. Ding goes the bell, this time with a knockout punch to Waverly’s ego.

“Really nice dude!” Waverly calls out the door, but Nicole doesn’t look back. She raises her hand, flips Waverly the bird, and strides away in a vanilla-scented vape cloud. A girl of many words.

Waverly looks at her shirt and the small drizzle of syrup that travels from her shirt to her apron. It’s toffee. It sticks to her finger as she traces over the Eden’s logo.

Dammit.

***

There are limited dating options in Purgatory. There are limited dating options and there’s Champ. The smell of his aftershave lingers on her skin and her sheets, unlike him sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his 2017 Rodeo Champion t-shirt over his head. He never stays for breakfast.

Sometimes he doesn’t even stay the night. He just fucks her and leaves. Waverly doesn’t mind all that much. She prefers sleeping alone. She’s been told she kicks and hogs the bed anyways. No one wants to sleep next to a wild bed hog.

It’s the smell of his aftershave that makes her feel lonely. Not lonely for him, but lonely for someone who cares. Maybe someone who cares about breakfast, but that doesn’t really matter either. Waverly eats breakfast at Eden’s. The overpriced coffee and stale leftover pastries from the day before making up her own breakfast of champions.

Gus looks the other way. They both know the Gardeners are cheap bastards and there would be severe consequences for eating the garbage intended for dumpster diving raccoons. Waverly feels like a raccoon sometimes—misunderstood, only noticed at night, living off crumbs, cute but scrappy. She should put that on a personal ad and maybe she’d find something better than Champ.

“Can’t you just stay a little longer? Please?”

Waverly’s always hated that belt buckle. It’s oversized and gaudy. It’s too much for the thin brown leather belt and outdated Levi’s he yanks over his hips. “Baby you know I can’t.” He flops to the bed on his elbows and wiggles close. “Shorty needs me to help unload the supply truck this morning and he has me working maintenance all day. Those smoke detectors aren’t going to change their own batteries…” He rolls to his back and laughs. “wouldn’t it be cute though, if they did?”

Waverly smiles apathetically. Even if she did want to make breakfast her entire kitchen is packed away neatly in the boxes currently making a castle out of her studio apartment. Not quite the Cinderella castle she dreamed of. And even if Champ did stay, it wouldn’t be for breakfast. It wouldn’t be for her.

“Aw don’t pout. I can come over tonight. Eh?” He taps her nose forcing her to blink. “Eh?”

“You know I’m moving tomorrow. This is my last night here before I’ll be…”

“Oh right.” He vibrates his lips like a horse. “You’ll be living with what’s her name. Nicole Ha-hat…hop?”

“It’s Haught.”

Champ shrugs. Pensive is not a look Waverly would expect to see on him, but it ripples across his forehead while he picks at his nails. “Something about her rubs me the wrong way.”

He turns to Waverly and latches on to her face plastering her with heavy wet kisses. Waverly braces her hands on his shoulders and tries to escape the grip of his calloused hands.

“O-okay Champ. I think that’s good.” He doesn’t acknowledge her, nor does he halt his kissing, if anything he holds her tighter. “That’s enough.”

She slips on the floor after wiggling her way off the bed and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room—makeup smudged, hair sticking out looking like Medusa, wearing a long baggy T-shirt she stole from Uncle Julian, the Purgatory Fire Department logo on the chest. It’s not very flattering. If she were Champ, she wouldn’t want to stay either.

“Text me maybe we can figure out a way to be alone tonight.” He stuffs his feet in his boots and stands up to stretch out his arms and yawn like an animal. Those cowboy boots are screaming for retirement. He’s had them since sophomore year. They’re cracked, faded, and ugly. They at least need a good polishing. Waverly would still hate them about as much as Champ loves them.

“Or you could help me move?”

“Baby, come on, I’m going to be too tired to lift anything more than a forty later.” He smiles with fake sympathy and kisses her forehead. “You know that.” Then he turns to the door. “Text me.” He says over his shoulder. His boots echo down the stairwell and so does the door when it shuts behind him.

It’s cold in here without her brightly colored tapestries heating the walls that are otherwise sterile white. It’s dark too. The string of lights that normally hangs from the ceiling is coiled and wrapped tightly in a box.

She will miss this little apartment. She’ll miss her worn out 70’s floral couch and the coffee table covered in Mod Podged magazine clippings. Maybe even the third burner on the stove that tries to kill her whenever she lights the second. It’s dangerous, but it’s familiar.

The loss leaves her body in a heavy sigh when her back hits the mattress. She won’t miss the smell of aftershave on her sheets. She won’t miss waking up to the jingle of that stupid belt buckle and the click of the door no matter how quiet it screams her name in shame.

I thought you would have grown out of him by now.

You can do better.

“Grow up Waverly.”

***

“So, we are going to start with a little pre-wedding interview. This is really just to give the audience an idea of who you are as a couple.” Robin perches on a stool with one leg crossed awkwardly over the other. Behind him is a free-standing camera and one obnoxious stage light threatening to give Waverly a headache. Another camera, this one attached to a greasy little man named Derek, stands in the foyer beside them.

Waverly glances at her suggested script printed out on the notecard shaking between her fingertips. It’s vague and leaves a lot of blanks for Waverly and Nicole to fill in.

“How about you two scoot a little closer. There you go. Act like you love each other.”

Nicole drops her hand to Waverly’s thigh and Waverly politely removes it. “They’re not filming below the waist dummy.” She whispers. Nicole yanks her hand away and tucks it under her arm.

“Now I would like you to introduce yourselves and tell the camera why you are here.” Why is she here? To awkwardly sit next to this lump of joy and lie to the camera? To dance and do tricks like an act in the circus? To have all her deep dark secrets displayed on national television? To be humiliated?

Waverly wraps her sweater around herself tight forcing the mic attached to the inside of her shirt to pinch her chest. The thin cord sticks to her clammy skin and snakes its way down her stomach where it attaches to her hip and eats through her side. “Whenever you’re ready.” Robin encourages.

“I’m Nicole Haught.”

“And I’m Waverly Earp.”

“Good, now why are you guys here today?”

“Because we’re getting married.” Nicole says flatly.

Robin hisses. “Yes, but with a little bit more enthusiasm.”

Someone snorts from the kitchen. “Sound a little less like your being booked in the county jail and a lot more like you’re excited to spend the rest of your life with the woman you love.”

“Nicole. Waverly. This is our director Eliza Shapiro.” Eliza moves slowly across the room keeping Nicole and Waverly in her crosshairs. She dismisses Robin with a wave of her hand, takes his clipboard, and then his seat. She folds her hands over the clipboard in her lap and locks eyes with Nicole in a way that makes Waverly feel non-existent.

“Nicole, you’ve been married before correct…for 3 years 4 months and 11 days to be exact.”

“Uh yeah.”

“We’re you excited before you got married?”

Nicole shrinks three inches into the couch, and it sounds like she swallows a rock. The mic in her shirt heard it loud and clear and poor Derek’s eardrums probably ruptured. “I guess so.”

“You guess so? You don’t remember what it felt like? No butterflies? Adrenalin rush? Cold feet?” Damn. Eliza has some Judge Judy vibes going on. Waverly’s glad her stone-cold zeroed in predator eyes are attached to Nicole and not her.

“No, I knew that’s what I wanted more than anything.”

“How did you feel about her, your ex-wife?”

Nicole tucks her hair behind her ear and pulls herself up like a marionette puppet because that’s what they are now, toys for PGE to play with. “I loved her. She was everything to me.”

Waverly saw a picture of Nicole’s ex-wife once. She’s tall, beautiful, probably rich, and looks super classy. Nicole’s not classy. Nicole is all nicotine, caffeine, ripped jeans, 'look at me, I'm sexy.' That last one is unfortunate for Waverly.

Eliza leans back with the clipboard gripped in her hand, some of the Judge in her Judy dissipates. She makes herself at home on Robin’s stool. “Good. Can you describe what you loved about her…but in the present tense please?”

Nicole squints and shakes her head slow and confused.

“Tell me how you felt about her but instead of loved say love.”

“Okay.” Throat bobbing, she coughs and tucks in the already tucked hair behind her ear. “She is funny…or more like goofy. She always knows how to make things fun. She’s supportive of my dreams...”

“Is she supportive of your bike messenger business?” Waverly’s attention snaps to Nicole.

Her bike messenger business? As in she owns it? That explains all the paperwork at night, but still, that can’t possibly bring in enough cash for Nicole’s two-story colonial-style home just outside of Purgatory.

The property is well developed with surrounding trees and overgrown shrubs under the front window. The backyard is entirely wooded. It isn’t huge but it’s a god damn mansion compared to Waverly’s 300 square foot studio above the laundromat and must have cost a fortune. Trust fund baby.

“Very.”

“Good. What do you expect to get out of your marriage with Waverly?”

“I-I don’t know…” Nicole cuts her hands through the air and shakes her head almost hard enough to propel herself off the couch. For second Waverly thinks she’s going to rip the mic from her shirt and call it quits. “I’m done with this question.”

“Okay.” Eliza’s eyes shift to Waverly. She goes from nonexistent to the only person in the world. Eliza’s like a god with the ability to create and destroy life in a matter of seconds. “Waverly, I want you to think of a moment where you felt special or where someone made you feel like the most important thing in the world.”

Uncle Julian is the first person to pop into her mind. Since Daddy was a drunk, Mama was taken to the loony bin, and Wynonna was in and out of Juvie, Uncle Julian was her only model of normalcy.

Kids don’t understand things the same way adults do, and she didn’t understand why daddy was such a dick about that invitation she worked so hard on. The one for the father-daughter dance—pink construction paper, decorative craft scissors, Daddy spelled out in red glitter, and the pride on her face when she gave it to him. But of course, too drunk, talk to the fists Ward Earp could barely spell out his name with piss in the snow let alone find a way to dance with his nine-year-old daughter. Waverly bawled her eyes out the whole week prior because he wouldn’t go.

But then Uncle Julian said he would go, and the crying stopped. Waverly was out of her mind excited. She picked out a dress with a big bow in the back and Aunt Gus showed him how to braid her hair and everything. For a moment she forgot she had a shit head for a father, a space case of a mother, and a brat for a sister.

Uncle Julian danced with her and made her feel like a princess. They played games and had punch with the other girls and their daddies. There was even a piñata. She went home that night wishing Uncle Julian was her father all along because he would have been the best at it.

“You got it?” Waverly nods in a reminiscent haze. “Great. You don’t have to tell me anything about the moment. Just tell me how it made you feel.”

“Oh wow…” Waverly shrugs her shoulders and stretches her arms out in her lap kicking her feet in front of her. “Um nervous and excited…shaky, but in a good way. Like I was flying or that I could fly, at least if I wanted to. It felt like I was where I was supposed to be in that moment you know?”

“And that’s when Nicole proposed to you?”

“What?” Eliza raised her eyebrows subtly waving Waverly on with her hand. “Oh. Right. Yes, she did.” Waverly musters up as much enthusiasm as she can and expels it all out in one sentence. “And then I said yes of course!”

Nicole jolts from the volume and looks at Waverly like she just threw up all over the coffee table. Eliza seems satisfied. She stands, smacks Robin in the chest with his clipboard, and walks away leaving it in his hands. “And that’s how it’s done, Jett.”

“Let’s get staging in here. We need pictures on the walls. Flowers. Cutesy shit. This needs to look like a friggen love nest. Move people move!”

“Woah! This is where you’re going to be living?” Jeremy wanders in the door past Derek with his jaw hanging open carrying an overstuffed box that’s starting to bottom out. His jaw snaps shut when he sees Robin standing in the living room. “Hi.” He says in a tone meant for a mouse’s ears.

Robin juggles the clipboard in his hand and tries to tuck his pen in his shirt pocket, but it skids under the couch before he can get himself together. He chuckles to himself with pink cheeks and a look that says he doesn’t know what to do with his arms. He decides to hold them behind his back with the clipboard like a drill sergeant. “Mr. Chetri. It’s nice to see you again.”

And just like that Waverly’s collection of Ann Rice novels pounds on the wood floor and Jeremy’s feet. “Oh jeez, clumsy hands.”

Waverly leaps up to help him. He just stands there holding the now empty box above Waverly’s head. “Jeremy?”

“Oh god! Ss-sorry Waves.”

“Where’s Robin?” Eliza yells from somewhere outside. “Tell him to get his ass out here now!”

“Um, excuse me.” He slinks away past Jeremy, the destroyed box, and Derek and his camera.

“Sheesh. She sounds pleasant.”

“God, you have no idea. I have never been more nervous in my life and that was only the first interview.”

“Yikes.” Jeremy stacks the last of the books into the box. “So um, how often do you think you will work with…” Robin comes striding back panicked and sweaty. Some of his hair sticks up in the back like a tail bobbing away with each bouncy step. “Robin!” Jeremy startles.

“Eliza needs the two of you outside for pictures.”

“Pictures?”

Waverly almost forgot Nicole was still sitting behind her on the couch. “Pictures?” Waverly echoes.

“Pictures.” Robin confirms.

Jeremy ducks out. “I’ll just take this upstairs.”

Waverly’s going to have to the spend the next year pumped full of Benadryl between the lavender lining the walkway and the orange ball of fur scurrying under her feet saying fuck you in the form of a hiss. She all but gags as she passes through the screened-in porch at the ashtray on the table next to a rocking chair. The tantrum-throwing fur ball claims sanctuary there.

“This is Shelly your photographer.” Robin says.

“Alright, Waverly we’ll have you sit here on this top step.” Shelly, a twig of a man, flamboyant in both personality and in dress, directs Waverly as she sits down. “Good. Good. Now Nicole just here on the lower step so Waverly can wrap her arms around your shoulders like so.”

Nicole wore a button-up shirt today, light blue, ironed, and starched. Her hair curls just out of reach of the collar leaving a sliver of exposed skin between the gap. Waverly’s chin rests there when she wraps her arms around Nicole’s shoulders. Another moment where she wants to hate Nicole, but Nicole smells like vanilla dipped donuts which are her favorite, and now she’s hungry.

“Beautiful. Nicole could you just rest your hand…just here.” Shelly places Nicole’s hand over Waverly’s forearm. She smiles, but on the inside, she resents Shelly for trying to make them look cute.

“Lovely, just lovely!” He squats down resting his elbow on his knee turning and twisting the camera hanging from his neck. “Let’s have Nicole move up to the top step and Waverly you sit on her knee.”

Nicole’s jaw flexes, even in the absence of gum Waverly can see the muscle rippling there. Waverly slides herself over Nicole’s knee and an arm over her shoulder for stability, but Shelly places their hands in all kinds of places to make them look in love. “One last pic. I’m going to have you press your foreheads together like maybe you want to kiss.”

“We don’t actually have to kiss right?” Nicole snaps.

“No no Nicole it’s just for looks.” He assures.

With Nicole’s forehead pressed into hers and her hand cupping Nicole’s jaw sweetly, Waverly has a startling realization. They’re going to have to kiss.

***

“Can’t you just come over here and contribute?”

“I did contribute. I brought coffee.”

“Look,” Waverly can’t help but laugh. “This will likely be the only fake wedding we ever have so...”

Nicole holds her hand up. She tilts her head back while the carbonated grape sludge flows down her throat. Satisfied, she hisses and wipes her mouth on the back of her sweatshirt cuff. “I fucking hope so.”

Who knew there were so many flavors of cake? There are ten pages in the wedding binder dedicated to them. Aunt Gus usually just made chocolate for Wynonna and vanilla for Waverly. Sometimes she got a little crazy and threw in some sprinkles.

This binder is a rabbit hole of options. It goes beyond choosing cakes. There’s fillings, buttercream or ganache, flowers made of fondant, and cake toppers?

Rosita made a few suggestions when she saw the wild panic rip across Waverly’s face. She pointed out the most popular choices and her personal favorites based on taste and presentation. She cracked up when Waverly asked if Pillsbury was an option.

“This should be a special moment for the both of you?” Rosita smiles. Just like Robin, she’s full of too much spunk. Neither Waverly nor Nicole were thrilled when she showed up at 8:00 am with a bag full of swatches over one arm and a record thick binder under the other. Rosita’s the Marry Poppins of weddings. She has anything you can think of in that bag.

“Blow me.” Nicole snips. She leaves the Monster can to make a ring on the stack of venues.

“How about you pull that giant pickle out of your ass and help me decide on chocolate torte or pink champagne!”

She laughs, tucks her hair behind one ear, and posts up in the entryway to the kitchen with a smug look on her face. Just on the crazy side of healthy, she flings a Skittle into the air and catches it with her mouth. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”

“See, I could have killed you at our wedding reception.”

“I could only be so lucky.”

“Alright so pink champagne?” Rosita interjects.

Another Skittle catapults into her mouth. “Booze cake is fine.”

“Fine.”

“Great. Now let’s move on to the venue, but before we do what colors scheme are we thinking?”

Waverly cast a glare to the kitchen and the Skittle munching jerk hanging there. “Pink.”

“No way. Nuh uh.”

“That’s what I want. I want a light pink.”

“Ooh and maybe a soft pale green.” Rosita adds excitedly and scribbles it down on her clipboard.

“I’m not wearing pink anything.”

“You don’t have to wear it.” Waverly shrugs keeping her smile discrete. All black leather Nicole doesn’t own a single thing that’s pink and it would be a damn shame not to find a way to make her wear a little. “It can just be for the flowers and some of the decorations.” She lies.

“Yes. We can keep it very toned down.”

“Fine whatever.” She disappears in the kitchen, rustles around, and comes back with a vape cloud lingering around her head. Waverly wrinkles her nose disgusted by the habit. “Pink and green it is.”

Rosita came up with some ideas on how to decorate the barn at The Homestead for the wedding ceremony. She wants hand-carved bench seats, candles, though Waverly thinks that might be a little dangerous in the straw, and displays of Esperance roses from one end to the other. It will be small and quaint with only close friends, family, and the camera crew of course.

“Now the wedding dresses are important to really set the tone for the ceremony. Did you see any you like? I have more catalogs in my car.” She looks between Waverly and Nicole who’s puffing away on her pen.

“You won’t catch me dead in a dress.” She shakes her head. Vaper flows out her nostrils and her mouth distorting her voice. “I’d go ass naked before I wear one.”

Rosita smiles. “That’s not really an option, but we do have alternatives if you’d rather.”

Waverly has a thought. She skimmed through the dresses last night when she couldn’t sleep, and nothing stood out to her. She’s not much of a poofed out, glammed up, taffeta wrapped, bride from hell kind of girl, but she has something that might work. “I’ll be right back.”

In her room in an old hatbox, she pulls out a long lace dress. It’s an antique. She found it in Shorty’s basement when she helped him clear out old newspapers and other junk. She doesn’t know why she kept it. She didn’t think she would ever have a reason to use it but looking at it now in the mirror held against her body it might be perfect.

She patters down the stairs with the dress draped over her arm. Nicole has taken her place next to Rosita on the couch looking at men’s suits. She holds out the dress high enough that the hem doesn’t touch the ground. Her own face washes in awe at endless lace, modest and simple, but a beautiful flowy body, like Stevie Nicks if she was going to wear white.

“That’s gorgeous Waverly. I can really see it.” Rosita nods. Her pen taps erratically on her clipboard like a happy dog. “We can have a vintage rustic theme.”

Waverly captures the faintest smile sneak over Nicole’s lips before she turns to the catalog of suits.

“Then for you Nicole, I think we should go with something like this.” Rosita flips the page and points to the middle.

“You want me to dress like Oliver Twist?”

“It will stay with the vintage theme and I think it will look amazing next to Waverly’s dress. Don’t you?”

“Okay,” Nicole says breathy and defeated.

The dress hangs back over Waverly’s arm, but she can’t take her eyes off it. It’s so perfect that the idea of using it for a fake wedding almost hurts. She’s planning her wedding—the dress, the flowers, pink, the barn, everything she picks is real. Everything except Nicole.

Her eyes leave the dress long enough to find Nicole’s. This time Nicole doesn’t hide the shy smile tugging at her cheeks, the bashful look down, the lick of her lips, and the eyes that say everything she picks is real too.

Everything except Waverly.

Chapter Text

At this point, Waverly has moved beyond the verge of a nervous breakdown and is now numb to the roughest touch. Even Miley swinging in on a wrecking ball couldn’t break through her calloused skin healed over from the past few days of wedding planning.

If the giant bags under her eyes aren’t enough of indication as to how well her new life is going, the cat hair has weaved its way into everything she owns turning her face into a pink watery mess.

She makes a quiet path down the hallway, Nicole’s bedroom is to the right of the stairs, but she sneaks past unnoticed and tiptoes the rest of the way down. She’s confined herself to her room for the most part, hoping to avoid her moody unpredictable soon to be wife, but the house is old and the tap water in the bathroom taste like dirt.

Speaking of the red-headed devil stretched out on the couch. Waverly stops and skates down the last stair. It will be impossible to avoid her now with the kitchen right behind her gazing out into the living room.

Nicole’s not lost in her usual fog of vanilla. Instead, she’s cloaked in something even less desirable. This time an overwhelming musk with subtle undertones of fruit makes Waverly’s nose wrinkle. “Nicole, what is all this?”

“It’s dinner. Help Yourself.” Nicole gestures without looking up from the book draping her lap. Next to the massive thing on the table is a bowl of Skittles displayed in a centerpiece like potpourri.

Waverly detours from the kitchen and topples over a few empty Monster cans in her path as she approaches. She plucks one from the trail starting on the table and ending on the floor and inspects it. “How many of these have you had?”

“What are you, my mother?”

“How is your heart not jumping out of your chest right now?”

“Well, it was definitely beating easier before you trotted in on your high horse.” Nicole drops her feet from the table. She digs around behind her and yanks out a package she had wedged between the couch cushion. She holds it out to Waverly. “Here, have some.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Take the licorice Waverly. It’s good for you.”

Waverly doesn’t respond. Nicole rolls her eyes. She slaps the licorice on the table in exchange for the lighter and the bong. The bubbling water is distracting enough while Waverly attempts to organize her thoughts. It’s like being 10 years old again and living with Wynonna. She gives in, snatches up the licorice, and flops down on the couch. “How are you going to sleep after all that caffeine?”

Smoke escapes, thick and earthy through Nicole’s words and surrounds them both in a dome of it. Nicole smiles lazily—her eyes pink around the edges—and leans back on the couch with her legs folded in front of her. “Probably on my back with a pillow.” A small cough rattles in her chest before she returns to her book.

Waverly tears off a piece of licorice with her teeth knowing It will likely flare up her TMJ later. She ogles the black bra casually hanging out of the sleeve of Nicole’s cut off Concrete Blonde tank top and the ripples of her upper ribs. The thought of straddling her and pushing the tank top up her stomach is more than entertaining.

It’s troubling to think she could actually do it and Nicole might not even stop her. It probably wouldn’t be the first time some lusty lady jumped Nicole while she was minding her own business. Waverly shoves more licorice in her mouth until it fills her cheeks like a chipmunk hoping she’s not drooling from one thing or the other.

“Let’s all kill Constance.”

“What?”

“You were starring.” Nicole lifts the book for Waverly to see. “Let’s all kill Constance by Ray Bradbury.” Waverly swallows down every jagged unchewed edge and reminds herself she’s not here to replace one douchy late night booty call with another extra douchy late night booty call.

She ignores Nicole and jams her hand in her front pocket to retrieve her phone.

WAVERLY: I’m freaking out!!”

JEREMY: What’s going on?!

WAVERLY: It’s Nicole. She’s horrible.

CHRISSY: …and that’s news?

JEREMY: What is she doing?

WAVERLY: She’s high reading murder books. :0

CHRISSY: Sounds about right.

JEREMY: I think you two look cute together.

WAVERLY: …

CHRISSY: …

JEREMY: <3

“At two forty-five in the middle of the dark room,” Nicole says, her voice low and ominous. “A terrific lightning bolt rammed the earth behind my bungalow.”

She crawls forward. The book slides off her lap and is smashed into the couch cushion by her knee. Waverly jumps to her feet dropping the empty licorice package to the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Thunder Erupted!” Nicole bursts up, swoops Waverly off her feet, and lays her flat on her back, Nicole bridged over her. Her voice drops to a whisper and she leans in close. “Mice died in the walls.”

Only a ghost of a smile dimples her cheeks. She licks her lips and inches a little closer. Waverly’s heart does a little zippy thing when she thinks they might kiss but Nicole pops up on her knees. “See you in the morning wifey.” She winks. Then leaps over the couch and disappears up the stairs.

JEREMEY: Do I still get to be your bae of honor?

CHRISSY: smh

WAVERLY: SOS

***

If someone were to ask 5-year old Waverly about love, she would tell them love isn’t always a fairytale. Sometimes the glass slipper fits and sometimes the glass slipper is full of shit because maybe mama is a nut case and daddy’s too drunk to notice, but Waverly’s too smart to care. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that nothing is perfect, people aren’t perfect, and crying about it won’t make it any more perfect.

And she doesn’t cry about it, even though sometimes life can be as cruel as a fairytale, but without the happy ending. Not all fairytales have a fairy godmother or a glass slipper. Still, 5-year old Waverly, with all the magic that can fill a little girl’s heart, hopes that one day she’ll find a glass slipper that fits her.

“What did daddy say when you told him Uncle Julian is going to walk you down the aisle?”

“Pfft…you know daddy.” Waverly shrugs. He was halfway through a bottle of Evan Williams when she told him because Daddy’s a cheap drunk, and there’s a 50/50 chance he didn’t know what the hell Waverly was talking about. “He’d be too drunk to make a straight line down the aisle anyway.”

Wynonna kicks her legs out on the bed and leans back against the wall with her arms folded behind her head. “He doesn’t deserve you Waves. You’re an angel and he’s…it’s like you’re not even related.”

“Sometimes it feels that way.”

“Uncle Julian loves you more than anything though…he’s such a sap.” Wynonna snickers. “20 bucks says he cries.”

“How is that?” Jeremy holds his hands out to showcase his handy work. It took him almost an hour to make the braided headband and weave the Freesia flowers through the back of her hair. “You’re like a beautiful woodland nymph.”

“This looks amazing Jeremy.” Waverly admires herself in the full-length mirror—flowered hair, laced dress, pink lips and she sees that little girl swinging at the Piñata with Uncle Julian cheering her on. She’s got a little bit of punch staining her upper lip and a high that will last for weeks. Fake wedding or not this is her princess moment. Waverly turns and throws her arms around Jeremy’s neck. “Thank you.” She kisses his cheek.

“Woah now.” He giggles. “Save that for Nicole.”

Nicole.

“Shit.” She shakes her head. A rush of anxiety tightens her chest buckling her knees and forcing her heart into an expert level of Dance Dance Revolution. She clings on to Jeremy’s arm to keep from falling. Today she has to kiss the grape guzzling, gum chewing, vape clouded, troublemaker Nicole Haught in front of everyone.

Wynonna swings her legs over the bed and rushes to Waverly’s side. “Are you okay Baby Girl?” Her own worry hardens her face. “You don’t have to do this. You can still change your mind.” Waverly knows that’s what her sister wants, for her to back out, to forfeit, but Waverly’s not a quitter.

“I’m okay. I can do this.” She’s not the first person to sell herself for money in the name of entertainment. It’s not ideal, but a girls got to do what a girls got to do.

“I brought champagne!” Chrissy comes ringing through the door glasses in one hand and a bottle of pink bubbly in the other.

Jeremy squeals and helps her with the glasses. “This is so exciting!” The cork shoots off like a shotgun making Waverly jolt forward. She grips the bedpost as Dance Dance Revolution triple times into the finale. You got this Earp. At least that’s what she tells herself every day when she feels like she is about to reach the outer limits.

Jeremy hands her a glass and holds his up. “To the one of a kind, gorgeous little angel, who I love and adore with every fiber of my heart, Waverly Earp.”

“To Waverly Earp!”

“Cheers.” Wynonna clinks their glasses together and casts Waverly a glance heavy with doubt.

Waverly dodges it and swallows every sharp bubble from her glass. “See. Fine.” She forces a smile and seizes the bottle for a refill.

“Okay.” Wynonna nods. “Congratulations then baby girl.”

***

“Jesus!” Nicole jumps just in time for the flat iron to miss her foot. “What are you doing in here? Isn’t it like bad luck to see each other before the wedding?” She fumbles around at her feet for the iron, sets it on the vanity table, and straightens out her grey tweed vest. She wasn’t very excited about it, or the suspenders, or the bowtie.

Waverly laughs. Nicole wouldn’t budge on the pants. It only took a half-hour of whining for Waverly to give in to the black skinny jeans. She probably can’t even get them off they’re so tight. I bet she sleeps in them.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“What do you want Waverly?”

“I think we should kiss.”

Nicole washes away the bemused look on her face with a shot of whiskey. She swallows it like it’s nothing and returns the crystal lowball glass to its place on the dresser, next to the bottle of Jameson 18 year reserve. She’s classier than daddy, but Waverly is far from impressed.

She can maybe deal with Nicole’s repulsive smoking habit, she can try to ignore that bad attitude and all the jackassery that spews from Nicole’s mouth like a broken sprinkler, but she cannot deal with another drunken a-hole like daddy.

She doesn’t want to marry someone like him not even for a second, and she’s not interested in marrying a self-medicated womanizer with top-shelf booze and fancy crystal. But the desperation has her standards dropping to an all-time low standing here asking for a kiss.

It’s all just a means to an end. Time is money, as her drama teacher used to say, and after 365 days, money she will have.

“Why?”

“Because we are going to have to kiss in the ceremony and maybe we should, I don’t know…practice?”

“We shouldn’t kiss any more than we have to.”

“It might be kind of awkward to kiss for the first time in front of everyone. Don’t you think?”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“God, you are so stubborn.”

“And you are the bringer of chaos and destruction.” Nicole growls. Her failed attempt at fastening her bowtie leaves it limp around her neck.

“Are you going to be this much fun all day?”

“I’m sorry I just…I can’t get this stupid thing on. I don’t know what to do with my hair and I look like one of those stupid fucking paperboys from the 1900’s…thanks to you by the way.”

“Well, you are a bike messenger. That’s kind of like the same thing, right?”

Nicole doesn’t laugh. No sense of humor this one. She sneers and turns back to the bottle.

“Here.” Waverly stops her reach and lightly tugs her into better lighting. There’s a line at the base of Nicole’s neck, no longer red from the messenger bag, but a few shades darker than her skin. Without thinking, Waverly traces her finger over it, feeling how it’s raised like a scar probably from years’ worth of friction.

Nicole flinches. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Waverly withdraws her finger. She fastens the last two buttons of Nicole’s shirt and tightens the strap so the bowtie rests snug against the collar. “Wear your hair like you always do.” She sweeps Nicole’s hair behind one ear the way Nicole does out of habit and tassels the soft waves on the other side. “There. That looks fine.”

Fine is an understatement. The sultry look on Nicole’s face has Waverly one bowtie away from chucking modesty out the window. She hugs herself, reeking of desperation, but not for money or a way out of Purgatory, for Nicole. Nicole must be used to desperate girls clinging to her and throwing aside their moral values with their clothes on the floor. They would have to be desperate. Desperate and a little broken.

There is something about the red-headed social deviant and her dirty little habits that promise to fulfill a darker twisty-er need—the mystery, the likely rejection, a sexual fantasy, the surge of adrenalin amidst a plane crash. Deep down Waverly knows she’ll land hard and not so pretty, but she still finds herself wanting.

Nicole’s cocksure persona screams danger by default. The rips in her jeans and the knife in her front pocket beckon a galvanizing adventure for anyone who dares to jump aboard. She can make a damn good first impression with her maddening sense of confidence and unruly charm but can easily turn around and suffocate a room by demanding all its’ attention.

The way Nicole struts around in her leather jacket flashing her dimples here in there, she knows her power and she flaunts it like glitter. She has no problems pulling off that dark and tortured look reeling in chicks wanting to save the wild and untamable Nicole Haught. Whatever her reasons are, for sex, games, loneliness, to fulfill her own dark and twisty needs, she’ll let them try.

On top of it all, Nicole is a giant baby.

“You said I wouldn’t have to wear pink.”

The blue and pink floral bowtie is a selection Waverly made after Nicole snapped at her for the thousandth time in Lorine’s Bridal Shop. Nicole’s a wedding grinch with a short fuse and everything Waverly says seems to strike a match with her. Waverly has zero remorse about that bowtie. Let the giant baby explode. “I changed my mind.” She smirks.

Nicole checks herself out in the mirror tugging on the bowtie, flattening her palms over tweed, and fiddling with the suspenders clamped to her waistband. She snaps the suspenders and frowns. “I’m not wearing these.”

“You look cute.”

“They’re fucking awful.” She argues.

“Okay, calm down little girl. No one’s making you.”

Nicole hisses. She swipes something off the dresser and takes it to the open window where she perches on the window frame. A cloud of dense vanilla rolls off her tongue and immediately blossoms around her face. “You look nice too or whatever.” She billows out like a dragon with each lick of vapor claiming territory, the walls, the sheets, and Waverly. “…for a hippy flower child.”

It’s a revolting habit Nicole carries on with, one that Waverly is not used to and she is not welcoming the change. She karate chops her way through it and plucks the pen from Nicole’s hand.

“Hey!”

“This is a no smoking zone buddy!”

Nicole gets up and snatches the pen back. “I didn’t see any signs.”

“I’m your sign!”

“It’s not even smoke.” She takes it to her lips, taunts with a few weak puffs, then holds it out of Waverly’s reach while vapor swirls around between them.

“That doesn’t make it any less disgusting.”

“It’s my house and my body!”

“Well I don’t want to kiss your stupid smoky vapey face, so like go wash your teeth or brush your mouth...” A disarming smile spreads over Nicole’s face as if it were just an innocent game they played. Nicole’s mockery and narcissistic tendencies might be enough to intimidate everyone else in Nicole's life, but Waverly won’t be charmed, and she won’t play Nicole’s stupid little games.

She might be small, but she can be feisty. She balls up her fists as tension builds in her neck and her jaw and stomps her foot for good measure. “You know what I mean! Now go brush your damn teeth!”

The room gets icy in the presence of those brooding brown eyes. They lock onto Waverly cocked and fully loaded. One outlaw against another. Shoot first ask questions later.

“I don’t think I like you.” Nicole stomps off to the bathroom down the hall and slams the door behind her, but it’s not enough to silence the water she leaves running in the sink.

“Turn the water off!” The shower nozzle squeaks and the rush of water that follows drowns out the sink. “Asshole.” Waverly mutters.

Nicole’s room is a lot of grey. The bed is grey, the curtains are gray, the walls are almost grey, it’s grey and it’s cold. Waverly’s amazed it’s not all black like the tiny velvet box catching her eye from the dresser.

Rosita took them to a fancy jewelry store downtown. Waverly didn’t know one existed in Purgatory. It is one of the more exciting parts of the wedding so far. She found the perfect white gold princess cut ethically sourced diamond ring. She hesitated to pick it in fear of getting too attached. It’s not really hers after all. It belongs to PGE.

The box already has a film of dust coating it. She wipes it off gingerly before flipping the lid. “Oh.”

It’s not her ring. This ring is one fat diamond surrounded by a dozen smaller diamonds. If this ring doesn’t scream marry the crap out of me and have my babies, then Waverly doesn’t know what does. Her ring is for a little princess, but this ring is for a god damn queen.

Out of curiosity, she slips it on over her ring finger. “Huh. Look at that, it fits.”

“Waverly if we’re going to kiss let’s just get it…over…with.”

The box snaps shut and makes a dive for the floor. “Oh! Sorry. The box was just sitting here…” Waverly twists the ring, but it doesn’t budge. “I thought it was my ring.” She twists and pulls but it seems to grip tighter like a Chinese finger trap the more she struggles.

“That was my grandmothers.”

“It’s beautiful. It must have been hard for Shae to give it back.” Embarrassed, she turns her back to Nicole, sucks her finger in her mouth, and tries to twist again. Fuck.

“Shae never wore it actually. She doesn’t like old things.” Nicole takes Waverly’s hand and splays out her fingers. Her ring finger is red hot like Waverly’s face.

“I’m sorry. It’s stuck.”

“Of course it is.” Nicole drops her hand and crosses the room towards the bed. She rummages through the drawer of the bedside table and comes back with a bottle of sexy strawberry flavored lube. Waverly’s not surprised. Nicole ignores her eye roll.

She applies a generous amount to Waverly’s finger and twists, but it doesn’t matter how much she lathers, twists, or tugs, the ring doesn’t budge. “That hurts!”

“Why did you have to put it on?” Nicole whines.

“I said I was sorry jeez…Ow!”

Jeremy sails through the door bouquet in hand. He halts eyes wide in the doorway. “Waverly Rosita has been looking for you. What is going on?”

“Nicole’s stupid ring is stuck on my finger!”

Nicole yanks harder. “You shouldn’t have put it on.”

Jeremy grins. “Isn’t that half the point of the ceremony? Putting a ring on it?” His joke falls flat. “Here. Let me try.”

Even his science brain can’t find a way to remove the ring from her finger. The sticky consistency of his American Crew pomade only pulls at Waverly’s skin. If anything, it makes things worse. “Ow! Jeremy my finger is still attached.” Waverly rips her hand out of his grip and cradles it against her chest, her finger having been through enough trauma. “That’s not helping!”

“Well, I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to use that as the ring for the ceremony.”

“That’s out of the question.” Nicole says, her voice razor-sharp with no sense of leniency.

“Well short of cutting her finger off I think that’s the only option.”

“Hang tight I have bolt cutters in the garage.”

“We are not cutting off my finger!”

“We are not getting married using my grandmother’s ring.”

“How about we just leave the ring on her finger until after the ceremony and then we can take it to the jeweler.”

“Oh good! I’ve been looking for you.” Rosita skids in just in time to cut off Nicole’s argument. “I have the car waiting to take us to the Homestead. Nicole, you will ride with Robin.”

Waverly shrinks under the weight of the tension. Nicole won’t look at her. She won’t look at anyone.

Jeremy shifts nervously clutching the bouquet like he’s afraid he’ll drop it and it will shatter on the floor.

“Did I miss something?”

“No. Everything’s fine. Waverly, I’ll meet you there.” Nicole gestures everyone out the door.

Waverly inspected her throbbing red finger. This ring isn’t meant for her, but she’s pretty sure it’s not coming off without a saw.

***

The moment does carry a kind of electricity. Every step is a rebellious fleece fresh out of the dryer zapping unexpecting fingers and standing her hair on end. The current flows through Rosita’s twinkling lights hanging from the rafters and charging the atmosphere with a soft pale hue over the carved wood benches. The barn breaths in a sweet smell of Esperance roses capping each bench and the damp earthy hay that blankets the ground.

The cameras consume and transform Waverly on her journey to reality TV stardom alongside her angsty red-headed fiancé. Then there are her guests hitting her with non-verbal cues of congratulations, skepticism, disapproval, and even some with love.

Waverly carries herself gracefully under the weight of lace and nerves as she glides arm in arm with Uncle Julian down the aisle. She passes Sheriff Nedley and his wife Christine. Wynonna stands next to Gus with her boyfriend Doc his arm draped over her shoulders, and there’s Daddy sneaking a flask back into the pocket of his suit jacket.

Rosita sits on the front bench smiling proudly while Jeremy and Chrissy wait with Nicole and Father Juan Carlo. They played rock paper scissors to see who had to be Nicole’s Bae of honor because Nicole refused to ask anyone. Chrissy lost but she’s a good sport.

Nicole’s not exactly Waverly’s John Stamos waiting for her in a black tuxedo. The Homestead barn is far from a Cinderella castle and she wasn’t brought here in a spell cast pumpkin carriage. Waverly always pictured her partner a little more chipper, clean-cut, and happy. Nicole’s more like sin and pleasure wrapped in tweed with a bowtie on top.

“Should we turn around sweetheart?” Uncle Julian teases. “I have the getaway car waiting.”

“Wynonna would like that.”

“I bet she would.” He chuckles.

He lets go of Waverly’s arm when they reach the end and hugs a resistant Nicole. She gives in and hugs back. It’s hard to protest on camera.

Uncle Julian gives Waverly’s hand a squeeze and her cheek a kiss before taking a seat with the rest of their guests.

Jeremy beams at her as a proud best friend. He nods in encouragement.

“It’s going to be okay.” Nicole whispers against Waverly’s ear. When she pulls back, she smiles something genuine and takes Waverly’s hands. Waverly’s face must appear as terrified as she feels. She can hardly acknowledge the thirty other people in the room let alone think about the millions who might be watching from their TV’s.

She focuses on Nicole. She supposes that’s what people do at weddings, look at their spouse to be. Nicole’s easy to look at too, when she stops talking.

“Nicole and Waverly, today you are surrounded by your family and friends, all of whom are gathered to witness your exchange of vows and to share in the joy of this occasion. Let this be a statement of what you mean to each other and the commitment of marriage you will make…”

Wedding vows are not simple. They’re contracts, not unlike her contract with Paradise Garden Entertainment. They’re contracts with their own sets of terms and conditions.

They are promises. I do. I do promise. I do agree with your terms and conditions. I do agree to marry you for a fat chunk of change. I do not think that it’s legal, but I do. Promises can be broken. Contracts can be shredded. Marriages can be complicated. Waverly’s marriage promises to be very complicated.

It’s a toss-up between whose hands are shaking more as Nicole thumbs the rock on Waverly’s finger and their heartbeats compete in their sweat coated palms.

Nicole’s eyes capture Waverly’s full attention as they often do. She lets out a long shaky breath and musters up a nervous smile. Everything goes quiet except for Nicole’s voice.

“I remember a moment in Eden’s where you were standing behind the register… you were trying to hide a smile.” Nicole pauses with her grandmother’s ring pinched between her fingers. She twists it gently, testing it to see if it moves.

“I could see it just barely pulling at you’re lips. You didn’t look up, but if you had you would have seen me trying to hide a smile too.”

“But then you sat with me and gave me a chance to smile at you, and you smiled back.” Nicole takes Waverly’s knuckles to her lips and Waverly gets a glimpse of that ring. The ring all sparkly and bright. Marry the crap out of me and have my babies it screams at her. Shae really must hate old things to pass up this bling bling. “I realized then...I realized that I could love you…if you let me.”

She swallows audibly. It takes her a good 5 seconds to continue all the while the silence is blaring in Waverly’s ears. “I do love you Waverly, and I promise, as your wife, to have those moments with you every day. To appreciate all the reasons that make me love you and make me want to be with you even when things feel impossible. I promise to care for you and respect you and to go above and beyond to show you how amazing you are. Because I’m yours. Always. And forever.”

Waverly is sure she read her vows just the way Robin wrote them. She tried to memorize them. She brought her note card just in case. They were probably beautiful, but she doesn’t remember. She knows father Juan Carlo said some things about love and unity, but at some point, blinded by diamonds, and shaking from the cameras watching her fake get married, Waverly blacked out.

Lucky for her it was all caught on camera.

***

“Come on Nicole, it’s your firsts dance as a married couple and people are going to want to see it.”

“I don’t dance.” She says flat. She can’t be bothered with something so mundane. Cool kids don’t dance at weddings obviously.

“Get in close. Come on now.” Greasy Derek circles around them like a shark with his camera on his shoulder and one eye obscured by the lens while Robin squeaks orders. Underneath his frail confidence, he begs Nicole to be compliant.

Nicole seems to enjoy doing the opposite of what he asks. It’s clear she didn’t earn her reputation by being agreeable and pleasant. She stands her ground and slumps against the wall scowling at all the guests waiting in anticipation of the first dance. “I don’t know how.”

“Well Rosita offered you lessons, and you said meh.” The thing is, Waverly knows Nicole can dance. She’s seen Nicole downtown at Ice-Nine with girls hanging off her trying to dance sexy. Nicole always looks so indifferent, like she could take it or leave.

Waverly wonders what that’s like to have so many options that there’s room to be picky. Waverly has Champ and he’s more like a bad habit than a true contender. She doesn’t suspect Nicole to be all that picky, more like lazy. She’ll take what’s easy.

Champ probably thinks Waverly’s easy. He doesn’t even bother to text or call anymore. He just shows up expecting. At least that’s one problem Waverly won’t have anymore. Maybe now she can learn to have a little more self-respect and take a little less after her sister.

Waverly takes Nicole’s hands and coaxes her onto the dance floor. She drags her feet the whole way.

“I did not.”

“You did, and then you got drunk in the bathtub while rapping the Alphabet Aerobics.” Waverly smiles sweetly for the cameras and the audience, not all of which know the wedding is a sham.

“Ah. No. No No. You got drunk and started rapping the Alphabet Aerobics. I had to listen to you until you fell sleep...and you were getting pretty sloppy at a super scientifical.”

“S’s are hard when you’re drunk okay.”

“You’re going to have to work harder for that $200,000 Nicole. For as long as you are on my show, you are madly in love with Waverly. And I mean madly. You can’t keep your hands off her let alone your eyes.” Eliza insists. “Do what you have to do to make it happen.”

This is the First Day of My Life hums out of the speakers. Nicole’s forehead falls flat against Waverly’s and she slips her hand to the small of Waverly’s back. She takes Waverly’s other hand in her own as they slowly oscillate the floor. Someone dims the lights. The sparkling globe above them diffracts purple, blue, and pink all over the dance floor around them. “Just let me lead okay.” Nicole whispers.

“Fine whatever.”

At firsts, it’s a struggle to ignore the camera zooming in and out on her self-conscious skin. Jeremy is skilled with a makeup brush and a bottle of coverup, but HD shows every bump and blemish.

She’ll have to get used to a life shadowed by cameras and having little to no privacy, at least outside of Nicole’s house. Gus has made it clear that Eden’s is off-limits. She likes to keep her business her own. The Gardner’s might like the publicity, but they seldom visit the coffee house. Mercedes makes the occasional appearance, but she seems to care less about the business operations, only the money it brings. She’s more worried about facials and expensive handbags.

Waverly tries to concentrate on the soft rhythm Nicole creates for them and smiles occasionally at her guests. Mostly Gus and Uncle Julian. It’s just the first dance. It doesn’t have to be perfect. They don’t have to be one of those elaborate in love couples who reenact Dirty Dancing, though Waverly totally would.

Their gentle swinging is kind of sweet. Waverly leans into. She rests her chin on Nicole’s shoulder where she breathes in the scent of vanilla and almond body soap.

She catches a glimpse of Uncle Julian wiping away a tear with the handkerchief he keeps in his pocket. He’s such an old man sometimes. Wynonna giggles behind him and records him with her phone. There’s a good chance that video is going up on YouTube.

Jeremy leads Chrissy to the dance floor midway through the song and some of the other guests start to spread out into their own rhythms. Thank god the pressure is off her.

She locks her wrists behind Nicole’s neck and sniffles into the collar of Nicole’s button-up. It really was a beautiful ceremony and Rosita has made this room look up to Waverly’s standards of magical.

“Waverly.” Nicole nuzzles Waverly out of the crook of her neck. “Are you crying.” She says in a hushed voice. Her acknowledgment only makes it worse. Waverly’s not even sure why she’s crying. She’s not in love. This isn’t really her wedding, but it’s a wedding and it’s perfect. Even if it is with Nicole.

“It’s my wedding and I’ll cry if I want to.”

Nicole leans back and brushes the dampened hair from Waverly’s cheeks. Her brow furrows but her lips stay soft. “Okay.”

“You’re smearing my makeup and it took Jeremy a really long time to make me look this good.”

Nicole chuckles and takes Waverly’s jaw into her hand. “Shhh.” Their first kiss in front of everyone was awkward—probably, Waverly’ doesn’t remember.

This kiss is soft and simple. It’s short. Just enough for show. “Great job Nicole. Eliza will be pleased.” Robin praises. Nicole ends it with a kiss to Waverly’s forehead and a loving smile. She’s an unnervingly good actor. Waverly almost believes it for a second. “Very nice touch.”

Nicole’s smile fades away when Robin and Derek disappear into the dance crowd gathering footage of their guests. Most of them are Waverly’s. Nicole hardly invited anyone. Just a few creepy biker looking dudes that Wynonna’s adamant about avoiding.

“May I cut in?”

“Be my guest.” Nicole bows out and disappears in the crowd after Robin.

“She seems…nice.” Uncle Julian says in a pleasant but not so convincing tone. He’s always been protective but never overbearing. He’s not the pull out a shotgun on the front porch type like daddy. Daddy once said, ‘men are just hormone driven beasts and they need to be put in their rightful place.’ Uncle Julian makes his judgments on a case by case basis. In Champ's case, he’s an irresponsible boyman with less than honorable intentions. Waverly can’t argue with that.

“Please. You wouldn’t think so if you talked to her for more than two seconds.” Waverly snorts.

“Yeah well, I’m an excellent judge of character.”

“I don’t know about that.” She teases. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and pecks his cheek.

A pang of guilt flares in her gut when she cast a glance at daddy. Wynonna sits with him now. Seriousness contours her face. Her hand rests over his clutching a glass, presumably full of whiskey. Daddy can’t resist a drink. The bar is open courtesy of PGE. Alcohol keeps the crowd, and drunk guests are more entertaining than sober ones.

“How are you feeling now that you tied the knot?”

“Knotty.” She jokes. Uncle Julian laughs. “I don’t really know honestly. It doesn’t feel real.” Some of that numbness from last night carried over. It’s like she’s shrunken inside of herself and is peaking out through two little windows with little control over actions.

“It will.”

“How come you never got married?”

“It just didn’t work out that way Angel.”

“Well, you’re a catch, Uncle Julian. Mama should have married you when she had the chance.”

“But then I wouldn’t have you…or Wynonna.”

“True.” She sighs.

The song ends. Uncle Julian smiles. “I think I’ll go take advantage of that open bar. Save me another dance for later?”

“Of course.”

“Julian!” Gus drags him through the dance floor thwarting his path to the bar. She’s always exhibited a tiny crush on him and a smidge of jealousy for her sister. His interest in mama has always been clear, even to a piss-drunk Ward Earp.

Waverly can’t imagine fighting over a guy with her sister. Wynonna’s taste in men is widely different than her own. Wynonna likes them rough around the edges and bold with their words. Spitfires like Nicole. If Nicole was a dude, Wynonna would be the first in line.

Uncle Julian politely obliges twirling around a beaming Gus. Robin dodges them. “Hey Waverly, can I talk to you for a quick sec?”

“Sure. What’s going on? Are we doing interviews?”

Robin ducks his head sheepishly and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “No-no. Um, I actually had a question about your friend…Mr. Chetri.”

“You mean Jeremy?” Waverly laughs hooking her thumb over her shoulder to Jeremy and Chrissy dancing behind her. Jeremy has had a little too much champagne already. His cheeks are flush red and stretched wide into a jubilant smile. He never stood a chance. Chrissy is a bad influence. He does look handsome in his red tux though. It doesn’t match Waverly’s rustic theme by any means, but Jeremy was so excited about it she couldn’t tell him no.

“Yes, is he—”

“Single?”

Robin giggles nervously. He slaps his hand around his neck and scratches an imaginary itch. “Yes.”

“He might be. How about you go ask him to dance and find out?”

“Yeah?”

Waverly nods in Jeremy’s direction and smiles. Jeremy’s cheeks just might get a little redder. “Go.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey baby Earp.”

“Mercedes. Hi!”

“Oh. Okay, we’re hugging.”

“It was so nice of you to come.”

“Wynonna said there was booze so here I am.” Mercedes fluffs her hair with the palm of her hand while she scans the crowd. She didn’t wear a dress, rather a black skirt and a shimmery emerald blouse that hangs loose in places. The color suits her red hair.

Mercedes is vain to the max just like her mother. Mama suggested one time that Mrs. Gardner is nothing but a gold-digging bitch. Nice words to share with a 6-year-old. Mercedes isn’t bad though. Waverly kind of likes her over the top sass and fiery attitude.

“Anyway. I was shocked to hear you were marrying Nicole Haught. I always pictured you with someone a little more put together and soft…like Perry.”

“Surprise.” Waverly sings.

“She doesn’t seem like the marrying type.” Mercedes says looking over Waverly’s shoulder.

Nicole lingers by the bar with one of the creepy biker dudes. Stringy long hair hangs to his chin, well broken-in leather jacket, not so friendly demeanor. He doesn’t strike Waverly as someone who came to celebrate a wedding.

Waverly can smell the mischief brewing from a mile away. Nicole’s shifty stance and forced smiles, all of it suggest there are secrets held between them.

“Well, she is divorced.” Waverly says. Her voice distracted now.

“That sounds more like it. Shae, right?”

“Yup.” Waverly swears she sees something pass between their hands. Nicole forces a last smile and the biker crosses the room reuniting with the other creepy biker. They share a few words there and disappear out the back door.

Nicole catches Waverly starring. Her face shifts from deer in the headlights to a roguish attractiveness. She holds Waverly’s attention tucking her hair behind her ear and winks. Waverly resents the subtle flutter in her chest that follows.

“Hmm…maybe you should have married her instead. I hear she’s a doctor.”

“She is.” Waverly turns her eyes away for one second and Nicole’s already heading out the door and into the hall.

“Excuse me. I have to do something really quick.”

“Waves!” Chrissy barrels over and grabs Waverly’s hands. She spins Waverly in the other direction. “Robins dancing with Jeremy. Look how cute!”

Waverly’s eyes stay fixed on the door. “It is cute. I’ll be right back.”

“Waves? Are you okay?”

“Yeah-right back.” She dismisses.

Waverly follows the voices through the hallway and finds herself creeping into the chapel. The doors cracked just enough to peek around the edge without being noticed by Wynonna or Nicole standing in the aisle. They appear to be in the middle of a heated conversation.

Wynonna grabs for Nicole’s pocket and attempts to force in her hand but Nicole shoves her off. “Whatever you’re doing you leave her out of this you understand?”

They circle each other slowly resembling two back-alley cats ready to fight with their chests puffed, fists clenched, and all kinds of crazy shaping their faces. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Earp,” Nicole says her voice holding in a dare. She backs away up the steps to the chancel with her eyes fixated on Wynonna. Wynonna moves after jabbing her finger forward.

“You do know and I’m not afraid to kick your ass, Haught.”

“’Cause’ that worked out so well for you last time.”

“That was like 12 years ago okay and there are no chairs in here!”

Nicole pauses and teases with an amused smile. She lets Wynonna in close before she leans in closer. “I’m not above using a pew bench.”

Wynonna snorts. She sidesteps and moves to put the altar between them. “I’m like a cop now so you don’t want to mess with this.”

“Who would make Wynonna Earp a cop?”

“Okay fine. I’m a confidential informant.”

“You’re a narc.” Nicole chortles. Her body relaxes and she leans up against the altar with her back to Wynonna, cocky. Temptation flushes Wynonna’s face. She deescalates into a sly grin and shrugs it off.

“Yeah, a narc who knows stuff…” She says matter-of-factly.

Nicole always so cool pulls at her suspenders and lets them snap before pushing off the altar and walking down the few steps of the chancel. “I ain’t got anything to hide.”

“If you do, know that I’ll find out.”

“Waverly?” Fudgenuggets. “What are you doing here?” Nicole says. She tucks her hair behind one ear, glances over her shoulder at Wynonna trailing behind her, and smiles innocently. “You should be enjoying your guests.”

Waverly narrows her eyes not in the slightest bit trusting of either of them. “Shouldn’t you be doing the same?”

“They’re mostly your guess.” She shrugs.

“But they’re here for you too.”

“Right. Of course.” Wynonna's shoulder checks her to get through to Waverly.

“Let’s go Waves. It’s almost dinner we should get back to the reception.” Wynonna ushers Waverly down the hallway. Nicole lingers until Waverly beckons Nicole with her eyes.

Derek and his camera are posted up in the doorway as they enter. Nicole nudges Wynonna away and wraps Waverly in a hug from behind. They both feign newlywed happiness as they shuffle into the room.

“Waverly!” Chrissy says in a silvery voice. “She links her arm with Waverly and frees her from Nicole’s. “You are sitting next to me at the table. I am starved.”

***

“How does it feel to be a married woman?” Jeremy asks always talking with his mouth full. Robin doesn’t seem to mind. He still stares from across the room.

“Why does everyone keep asking? It feels the same as being an unmarried woman so far.” What does a married woman feel like?

“I’m sure that will change. You guys living together doing cutesy couple stuff.”

“Ick.” Nicole grunts. Waverly elbows her in the ribs. “Ow!”

“Don’t be a dick.” She hushes. It was satisfying. She mildly hopes Nicole gives her a reason to do it again.

“Just don’t turn into a couple of homebodies and never leave the house. You’re still young. You’ll be twenty-four this year. Don’t waste it. After this, you’ll probably start getting hangovers.” Chrissy says.

Waverly turns to Nicole. The only person other than Uncle Julian and Aunt Gus older than 23. Both of them engaged in their own conversation. “That’s not real. Is that real?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Don’t ask stupid questions.” Nicole snaps.

“Wynonna doesn’t get hangovers.”

“Wynonna’s a high-functioning alcoholic.”

“Don’t be rude!”

Nicole flinches and protects her ribs. “I’m not. I’m stating a fact.”

“In any way, we still have a lot of parties to attend to. It’s my birthday next month and I want to do something crazy.” Chrissy pauses, leans forward, and looks around Waverly. “You can come to Nicole. Since you guys are like a unit now.” She says as an afterthought.

“Can’t wait.”

“Hey! I am not giving up my autonomy here. We are still individuals first and for most.”

“Good for you Waves.” Jeremy says. “It so sad to see couples lose their identities in a relationship. My parents you know have separate rooms.”

“That might be a different issue.”

“Actually they are still quite romantic. But my dad snores and my mom has restless leg syndrome. It’s not that uncommon you know.”

***

Nicole scrapes her fork across her plate breaking apart the perfectly baked bites. “What the fuck is this?”

“Watch your mouth there are children.” Waverly forces a smile at Aunt Gus and the disapproving look she’s sending Nicole’s way. She mouths ‘sorry.’ Gus just shakes her head. “It’s falafel.”

“It’s fa la fa what?”

“It’s vegan.”

“Why is it on my plate?”

The fork scrapes something high pitched and sharp vibrating through Waverly’s teeth. She cups her jaw with one hand and places the other over Nicole’s fork to silence it. “Because you wouldn’t help me pick out the menu. So, I picked what I wanted.”

“Well if it sounds like a song in a Julie Andrews musical then I’m not eating it.”

If she’s not throwing a fit about this, it would be something else. “Then starve for all I care.”

“Children do I need to separate you.” Chrissy interjects.

“Please do. This is just fal-awful.”

“You know what? You are the biggest baby I have ever met.” Nicole throws her cloth napkin over her falafel and scrapes her chair on the floor. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find a vending machine. There’s got to be some Skittles or Starburst or like an Ativan around here. Where’s Mercedes? I bet she’s got something in her purse.”

Robin stalls her. He tentatively places his hand on her shoulder and ducks his head. “Not just yet Nicole. We are going to cut the cake.” He soothes. Nicole shrinks as a 2-year might after being sent back to time out for the 15th time. Her jaw tightens and she throws herself back into her chair.

Waverly shakes her head. How can someone be this dramatic all the time? It must be exhausting. At least her falafel tastes good.

***

The white frosting is streaked onto the 2-tier pink champagne cake giving it the appearance of birchwood. It has a trail of flowers winding around the edges and up to the top.

“There’s flowers on our cake Waverly.”

“Yes, I know.”

Chrissy hands Nicole a large cake knife. Nicole holds it out like it’s a weapon. Waverly places her hand over Nicole’s and attempts to guide the knife towards the cake.

“Stop it.” Nicole whispers.

“Pause now so we can get a picture ladies.” Shelly says. “Very beautiful. Now smile. Happy smiles. Oh, there they are.”

Waverly makes a second attempt to guide the knife to the cake. “Stop it.” Nicole repeats. She so ridiculous Waverly gets the feeling she's doing it on purpose for the attention. Waverly laughs.

“Stop laughing.”

“Yes, Waverly. I love the laughter. So beautiful.” Shelly says. "Now Nicole lets see those beautiful teeth. There we go. Very good.

Nicole stops resisting. Together they cut a sliver of cake showing all smiles and love while under the scrutiny of Derek, Shelly, and their cameras. Between her tears and sweat, Waverly hopes that there is still enough makeup left to hide her red irritated cheeks courtesy of Calamity Jane.

“I’m going to smash this cake all over your face.” Waverly says through a smile.

“Not if I do it first.”

“I’m going to do it.”

“Do it then.”

"Okay." Waverly smears cake up Nicole’s nose while giggling and Nicole jams cake in her mouth. Frosting and crumbs fall to their clothes and their lips find each other once more through pink champagne and buttercream.

“That’s was a lot better.” Eliza says. She shakes both their hands with an almost smile. “I look forward to working with you for the next 364 days. Robin will be in touch to discuss the next step. Enjoy your wedding night.” She winks and walks away.

***

“What do we do now?” Nicole asks as if their future is uncertain because it is. Aside from interviews and couples’ therapy, PGE has been vague about their plans for her and Nicole.

Waverly went through a reality TV phase in high school. She thought it seemed overdramatized and not real reality. It was unbelievable to think these people could have such wild and explosive personalities to create enough drama for a whole series. Now she knows why and Nicole is enough drama to fill up a whole show on her own.

“Well, we’re not having sex.” Waverly blurts. Obviously, they’re not. Why would she even say that?

“God no. I wasn’t even thinking that.” Nicole says. She shies away avoiding eye contact. They’re both quiet a moment. “But we could…”

“We’re not having sex crazy!”

“Fine, what do you want to do then? Just go to bed? I ate too much cake and I’m not sleepy.”

“Oh! So, you can drink 5 Monsters before bed, but a bite of cake keeps you up late?”

Nicole shrugs. “I have an adrenalin high.”

While Waverly doesn’t want to go to bed either, she’s not sure how much more of Nicole she can take tonight. She combs her fingers through her hair loosening up the braided headband and littering the floor with Freesia flowers. It feels good to massage all the tension out of her scalp.

Nicole watches her think. Her eyes beg for a distraction. Waverly might need a distraction too because Holy shit! They just got married.

In the last 7 days, Waverly has signed a contract, moved, planned a wedding, and just got flippin married. She’s surprised she’s not exhausted face down in a pillow wrapped in a cocoon of blankets already.

“Come on. I have an idea then.”

Nicole hesitates. Her lips part but she doesn’t speak. Waverly takes her hand, not because she has to or because she put her finger where it doesn’t belong, but because they’re two people stuck together about to go on a long journey, and they may as well get along.

“Waverly, why are we standing in front of Bunny Loblaw’s pool?”

“Because we’re going to jump.” All the lights are off, but the blue glow brightens up the whole backyard and shimmers along the milky pink stucco of Bunny’s house. Waverly’s always wanted to jump in this pool. Chrissy’s grandmother lives on this street. They used to dare each other to sneak into Bunny’s backyard and jump. They’re were both too chicken.

“I most certainly am not.”

“Come on. It will be fun I promise.”

“But you’ll ruin your dress.”

“It’s just a dress. Besides, it would be tacky to wear it to another wedding.”

Nicole checks herself out tugging here and there. She fingers the impossibly small pocket of the vest and hooks her thumbs under her suspenders.

“Don’t tell me you have grown attached now. I listened to you cry all morning.”

“I’m not attached.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Waverly’s laces their fingers and guides them to the edge. “Close your eyes. On the count of three. 1…2…3.”

She blasts off with her legs and somewhere in the fall, she lets go of Nicole’s hand. The air bubbles out her nose fighting the water rushing in. She lets herself sink to the middle to enjoy the weightlessness before kicking her legs to the surface. She spits out water and runs her hands

down her face clearing her eyes.

“I didn’t know you were such a rule breaker.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Nicole leans back, spreads out her legs and arms, and floats. “Really? Like what?”

“I can outshoot my daddy with a shotgun.”

“Very nice. What else?”

“I used to have an imaginary friend named Bobo. Freaked my mother out.” Waverly copies Nicole and distributes her weight over the water. A shy waning crescent moon hides amongst the purple and pink setting sun. The night streaks it with black.

Waverly was born under a moon just like this. Mama described it as a dark cotton candy sky with just enough of a moon to guide Uncle Julian to the greenhouse. She passed out from complications, but he found them both under the lunar glow and kept them safe.

“What about you? What don’t I know about you that would surprise me?”

“Uh…hmmm. I can solve a Rubik’s cube in 8 seconds.”

“You cannot.”

“Can.”

“Nerd.”

“Hey!” Nicole shoots water out her mouth like a fountain hitting Waverly in the face. “There’s not a lot to do in juvie.”

She retaliates and sends a wave with her arm capsizing Nicole. “As I said. Nerd.”

Nicole splashes harder using both arms now until Waverly can’t see without flushing her eyeballs with chlorine. But she laughs and it feels like relief. Nicole’s laugh is like music echoing back. They could make this fun, if they learn to get along, and if Nicole can tone down whatever teenage angst she carries around with her. Waverly's seen her relaxed and less abrasive. Nicole's not all bad.

“Whose out there?”

“Shit!"

“I’m going to call the police!"

Waverly paddles to the far end of the pool. Nicole powers on behind her water sloshing everywhere. "Hurry.” They both bolt out of the pool and make a run for it leaving behind a wet trail of mini feet puddles as evidence.

"I’ll have you little shits arrested so fast! You better run!”

Chapter Text

Waverly wakes suddenly and confused.

A thin coat of sweat spreads across her chest and along her hairline. Her mind races and her eyes are wild searching for answers in this unfamiliar place. The drumming in her chest pounds and pounds in a heavy beat that sends her into flight mode. This is the end.

Her feet hit the cold floor, but her mind remains only half in reality. It takes her a minute to register it’s her own screams she’s hearing rip violently from her lungs. The startling shrill is so sharp and so loud, it ignites her like fireworks. Waverly pushes off the bed and bolts down the hallway chased by nothing but the darkness and a shiver along her spine.

It growls something fierce and flashes bright with a vengeance urging her along as she runs over creaky old hardwood and past drafty windows. She doesn’t look down the stairs. She knows her panic-stricken mind will find something staring back at her from the shadows.

She makes it to the last door down the hall and kicks it open with a terrific battle cry as the dark flashes blue and black and roars like a trashcan rolling off the rooftop.

Drowsy and bewildered, Nicole stirs in her bed blinking away her own confusion. Waverly can barely make out her features before she launches out of the doorway and hits the edge of the mattress. The box spring groans on impact.

“Jesus fuck!” Nicole jumps. Their elbows and knees collide, and Waverly starts fighting her for the edge of the blanket. “What the hell!”

Waverly cries out one last time, this one softer and drowned out by Nicole’s yelps of pain. She digs her nails into Nicole’s sides shaking and disoriented. Her pupils wide searching for familiarity in shapes and color. Everything is dark and threatening, like the rain drizzling down the cool window and the trees trembling out in the ruthless gusts.

She tries hard to burrow further under the blanket, but Nicole pins her still. “Waverly stop! Chill out!” She freezes. Or is she paralyzed? “What is going on sweetheart?” Nicole’s says like a lullaby, hauntingly beautiful amongst tumultuous chaos. She focuses on Nicole’s big brown eyes sweet as chocolate and the soothing line she brushes along Waverly’s jaw with her thumb.

Waverly blinks. She can’t remember why she was running or what she was running from. It was just a chill that had her moving so fast. She was asleep one moment and the next she was flying from one end of the house to Nicole’s bed. “I don’t…I had a bad dream I think.”

The thunder vibrates again, rolling under the floorboards accompanied by a dizzying strobe of light. The room glows an eerie blue. It highlights the concern on Nicole’s face. Waverly trembles. “Thunder.” She breaths over the edge of the blanket clutched tightly in her hands and she tugs it up to her earlobes.

Nicole smiles sweetly taking away some of the horror that has her pinned to the mattress. “You’re scared of the storm?”

Waverly nods. She’s never been afraid of thunder before but waking up from a nightmare to a cock-o-doodle-BOOM turned something innocuous into a sharp-toothed beast.

“I need to sleep in here.” She insists, then disappears under the blankets like a little girl and clings to Nicole t-shirt pressing herself hard against the length of Nicole. “Please.”

“Ow! Waverly easy with the nails.”

“Sorry.” She mumbles into Nicole’s chest.

Waverly’s fingers flex over Nicole’s hipbone, her body begs to be close, to be safely wrapped up together, but Nicole has other ideas. She puts her hands awkwardly between them creating some distance, still, her face remains the same sweetness. She leans in and her lips whisper over Waverly’s forehead with a calming heat.

“Okay, but just tonight.” Then she rolls away from Waverly’s touch to her side with her back to Waverly and fluffs the pillow under her head.

But Waverly is restless and disturbed. How is she supposed to sleep after that? Or with Nicole’s back to her acting as a brick wall blocking her from the comfort she needs.

Her sweat cooled skin brings on a violent shiver. She wraps herself around Nicole’s warm back and waist hanging on for dear life as if Nicole is the only thing keeping her from the disturbing nightmare breathing down her neck.

“I can’t sleep with you clinging to me like a monkey Waverly.” Nicole murmurs into her pillow with sleep already heavy in her voice.

“Right. Okay.” Waverly loosens her grip but tucks herself in as close as Nicole will let her. Whatever monsters are lurking in the darkest corners aren’t getting to her here hidden amongst the blankets with only the top of her head peeking out. She presses her forehead into the middle of Nicole’s back and sneaks an arm around Nicole’s waist. Her knees bend and nestle perfectly behind Nicole’s. She sighs in relief, their bodies mold together in the perfect blend of comfort and safety.

Finally, her eyelids start to droop even when she tries so hard to fight them, but the adrenalin wears thin and her body wears out. The soft rhythm of Nicole’s breathing sends her off to sleep with the warm cotton of Nicole’s cut off t-shirt against her cheek and a hint of vanilla. It’s just as calming as any mindfulness app Waverly’s ever used.

***

There’s the faintest humming amidst the hot raining water but no response. Waverly pounds her fist on the door again. This is not her usual morning routine banging on bathroom doors, but here she is, with shower steam seeping underneath the crack in the door. It hits her in the face with a free facial.

It’s not surprising that her day is thrown off considering she woke tangled in the grey satin of Nicole’s sheets. By the time Waverly’s eyelids fluttered opened Nicole was already up complaining about the sun being too bright for a Saturday. At first, she thought she might have drunk too much wine and thrown all her ambitions out the door, but then she remembered the storm and the creepy feeling came back.

It has been exactly one week since the wedding and Waverly is starting to feel semi at home, though the house is old and creaky. It’s definitely left room for her imagination to run wild with ghosts and other sinister things.

She likes to say she doesn’t watch a lot of TV, but when she really thinks about it, that’s all she and Chrissy do when she stays over.

In fact, three nights ago, Waverly stayed over at Chrissy’s place and they were up way too late watching Ghost Hunters. Waverly couldn’t sleep at all after that and consequently, she was in piss-poor condition for work the next morning.

It couldn’t have been a worse time to show up as a zombie. The icemaker stopped working at Eden’s and the Gardner’s refused to send someone out to fix it. Mr. Gardner insisted Gus be able to fix it. Gus was furious and spent the day wreaking havoc on anyone who dared to fall out of line even in the slightest. Waverly’s lack of enthusiasm and sluggish pace kept Gus booming commands her entire 8-hour shift.

Despite her spine-chilling romp through the house last night, Waverly welcomed the morning sun filtering in through the maple leaves outside the window and painting their silhouettes across the comforter on Nicole’s bed. The comforter’s appealing grey stripes give the bed a simple clean hotel feeling, but it is not warm enough. She had to spend most of the night pinned to Nicole’s back despite Nicole’s protesting, to keep from freezing to death. At one point Waverly is sure she heard Nicole mumble something about a heat vampire.

Champ never let her close enough to steal his heat. On the off chance he stayed the night at all, he slept facing her with his knees pressed against her stomach keeping them apart, and eventually, he’d move to the couch.

He’s been texting her. Trying to sweet talk her into meeting him at Shorty’s after close, to talk. Yeah sure, that’s what he wants. That’s what he always wants when he feels Waverly pulling away, and he always seems to know just what to say to suck her back in. It’s been that way since she was 14.

When they were still in school, every time Waverly had shown a remote interest in someone else, Champ road in on his stick horse with his football jersey and the letterman jacket he’d drape around her shoulders to let everyone know she belonged to him.

It was okay for him to hook up with whoever he wanted. She was expected to understand that he was just being a guy, he couldn’t help himself. Waverly accepted it then, being so young.

After she graduated and starting working at Eden’s she wizened up. She made it clear that they weren’t dating and if he could sleep with other people so could she, and she did. Champ still whines about it from time to time, and every now and then Waverly finds herself feeling guilty. She has tried to cut him out of her life for good, but she always goes back.

It’s an addiction feeling that way—manipulated, used, yet hopeful. It must be to keep going back. Waverly knows he’ll never change. He’ll never be enough to satisfy her. He’ll never be enough to keep her from leaving Purgatory, but he’s familiar. That is why he is enough for now. Was enough.

“Nicole!”

Someone could grow old waiting for Nicole to get out of the shower. Waverly’s paced up and down this hallway enough times to memorize the grooves in the floor and count six cobwebs. six! Spiders included. “What can she possibly be doing in there that takes this long.” She mutters to herself.

Nicole’s ancient old house has one working bathroom upstairs and she’s too cheap to fix the one downstairs. She says it’s complicated. Whatever the fuck that means.

“I have to pee!”

Finally, a gruff response echoes out stopping Waverly eagerly in her lap up the hallway. “For fuck sakes pee then! No one’s stopping yah.”

Her feet squeak on the hardwood when she spins around and marches to the door, she hesitates, her hand hovers over the doorknob. Is Nicole inviting her in? Or is Nicole suggesting she pee her pants in the hallway? Because honestly, she could see it either way.

She grips the handle, it’s wet with humidity, and waits for confirmation. Nicole gives it with a note of impatience.

“It’s unlocked.”

“Oh, thank god.”

The steam dissipates out the door as Waverly rushes in and drops her pajama shorts to the fuzzy rug at her feet. The first sound of a trickle brings relief as her body relaxes, but relief is quickly replaced with embarrassment. She’s peeing next to her super sexy wife one shower curtain away.

Her fingers fumble with the toilet paper. It spools to the floor folding like paper thin ribbon. Nicole is naked, butt naked, as in zero clothes. She has been in here for almost 20 minutes doing naked things.

Waverly bites her lip a little too hard. She can’t think about that.

She shakes it off and forces away all thoughts of Nicole’s soap soaked body by naming the spiders. There’s Pikachu, Mr. Pumpkins, Bubble Gum…

She yanks up her pajama shorts and cinches up the string. Then looks back at the toilet dripping with condensation wondering if she should flush or not. It’s the polite thing to do, but it is an old house. It could get icy. Though Nicole’s not the one who needs a cold shower right now.

Wynonna used to play that trick on Waverly all the time. The Homestead isn’t exactly a new house either and her sister is a relentless prankster. Waverly doesn’t have enough fingers to count the number of times she’s flown out of an ice cold shower.

She cautiously pulls the lever and watches the rush of water swirl down and away. Then there’s nothing. No yelping. No fumbling to turn off the water. Just Nicole doing naked things. “You know you’ve been in here for over 15 minutes?”

“I like to think in here. It’s quiet. Usually.”

“It’s a really irresponsible use of resources,” Waverly says. In the 5th grade, her class went on a field trip to the Purgatory Science Center. It’s a small facility, not a whole lot to see, but they had a whole room dedicated to how much water everyday tasks consumed. About 20 gallons is wasted for a 10-minute shower.

Waverly turns on the sink faucet and lets the warm water wash over her hands, then turns it back off while she lathers the soap. She lathers her ring finger extra until it’s lost in lavender foam, and twists. The stubborn bastard still won’t let go. She turns the faucet on again and rinses away the fluffy suds and frowns. “You should only shower as long as you need to.”

“I could do that. Or I could just continue living my best life.”

Always such an ass. It’s too early to argue with Nicole. Waverly hasn’t showered, and by the looks of it, there might not be any water left to shower with. She hasn’t eaten either and her migraine is telling her it’s coffee-o-clock. She forfeits, turns the water off, dries her hands, and makes the couple steps to the door, but the rustling plastic draws her back.

Curious, she spins around. The temperature in this steam room must have melted her brain because how rude is she for yanking open the shower curtain? Nicole startles but does nothing to cover herself. “Hey.” She says brushing wet hair from her face and blowing residual water off her lips.

Waverly’s in disbelieve. What did she just do? Where is she supposed to put her eyes? They want to see everything at once, but they go to Nicole’s hands first.

The source of the rustling plastic is a bright purple wrapper that belongs to the Tootsie Pop Nicole pinches between her fingers. She peels it back and sucks the Tootsie Pop into her mouth, it bulges out her cheek. The wrapper falls carelessly to the shower floor. It’s swept away in a heated downpour and caught in the drain mesh where it spins before settling.

The artificial fruit flavor mixes with the steam and violates Waverly’s nostrils. She can taste it on the back of her tongue. It doesn’t have the same harsh chemical smell as grape Monster, but it is still sickly sweet. “Are you eating candy in the shower?” She says partially amused and a little bit repulsed.

Nicole smiles and tugs the Tootsies Pop from her lips. Waverly bets they taste like grape now. It almost makes them more appealing as if Nicole’s kiss isn’t already sweet, Waverly suspects. She could kiss Nicole right now and find out, but she won’t.

“I might be.” Nicole teases with a wink.

Waverly’s gaze falls from the Tootsie Pop to play over the lines and curves of Nicole’s body. She can’t help it. They’re tempting. She gets lost in the way the water makes quick long endless trails over the swell of Nicole’s breasts, down the definition of her abdomen, and collects in the soft reddish-brown curls between her legs. Nicole stands unabashed with her Tootsie Pop and lets Waverly look.

“Waverly, are you just going to check me out?” She pauses to curl the tip of her tongue around the purple candy toying with seduction. She twists it between her lips then smiles sugar sweet.

Waverly’s eyes continue to dart in all direction memorizing every part of Nicole. She clings to the shower curtain, now dangerously close to ripping it from its metal rings, while her heart cartwheels in her chest and pumps blood to all the wrong places.

“Or.” Nicole’s voice gets deeper and edges to suggestion. “…are you going to tell me what you want?”

What she wants is to drop her shorts to the floor, climb into this shower, and kiss the grape right off Nicole’s lips. She wants Nicole to pin her up against the shower wall and take her hungrily while Waverly screams out her name and claws into her back, but what she really wants is for Nicole to turn off the damn water.

That’s enough. Waverly comes to from whatever trance she is under. She looks at Nicole’s smug face searching for anything worth saying but nothing comes. She yanks the curtain closed and stares at the paisley pattern frozen like an idiot. Charlotte, Pickles, Heathcliff…

She can’t be in here anymore. She’s sure if she stays a second longer, she’ll regret it. She’s better than this. She decided that when she moved. She’d grow up. At least that’s what she tells herself every time she gets the urge to text Champ back. There will be no naked shower sex with Nicole today.

She backs up slowly, clips her shoulder on the doorframe in the process, but keeps her eyes on the closed shower curtain until it’s out of view around the corner and she shuts the door. A little bit disappointed, she still commends herself on self-control and retreats to her room where the only naked things are the walls. The box of tapestries and twinkling lights are MIA at the moment.

For now, she can find solace in the endless trees out her window. All the back windows of Nicole’s house have an expansive view of the wooded area behind it. Just through the Douglas Firs are the neighboring houses enjoying the same picture-perfect view. Waverly spots Bunny Loblaws house. Pepto-Bismol pink is hard to miss.

Gus has a chair in the garage that will look perfect there by the window where she can spend the next 358 days reading every book in the Purgatory library, and not having sex with Nicole.

***

The kitchen is a bright shade of grey accented with two other darker greys. It’s consistent with the clean cold hotel feel of Nicole’s comforter. There’s the usual fixtures a coffee maker, a toaster, and a professional set of knives. The pots and pans hang from a stainless steel rack mounted with a chain to the ceiling. Everything else is neatly stowed away leaving bare counters except for a small tidy stack of what Waverly presumes are bills.

“Sorry about last night I just…I had a bad dream and it seemed so real you know?”

Waverly lingers awkwardly in the entryway; her eyes focus on a chip in the wall where the paint is cracked and crumbling. She pokes at it with her finger before looking to Nicole.

Nicole brings her second Monster of the day to her lips and swallows audibly. “What was it about?” She asks with seemingly genuine interest.

She leans up against the kitchen counter with one foot crossed over the other. Her feet have already been laced up in her black Tims. She’s got a worn out black belt around her waist as if she needs it to hold up those skintight jeans, the ones with the rips and tears like windows to the ghostly skin of her legs.

Even when wet her hair curls at the base of her neck. Waverly watches a few drops make a wet trail to the collar of her t-shirt. Nicole gets a shiver when they disappear down her back. She shakes it off and continues to fuel up on grape sludge and Waverly’s attention.

“I have no idea. It was just a bad case of the creeps. New house jitters I guess.” She shrugs and rubs her thumb against the white paint chip revealing the tarnished fir of the column. A thin jagged edge jabs under her fingernail as she picks at it. Tiny flakes glide to the floor like dandruff and land by her toes. She drops her hand having done enough damage for one day; diving into Nicole’s bed, demanding they sleep together and practically jumping her in the shower. What a mess she has made.

She grips the wood column and clings to it hopelessly while she thinks about all the times Champ's scrambled out of her bed and tossed himself to the couch in a way that emphasized his irritation. It’s become a routine, and she has gotten used to it. So much so she expects anyone else to do the same and leave her. She even feels guilty sometimes. Yet, here she goes forcing Nicole to deal with a wild night of tossing and turning with Waverly Earp, and not the good kind.

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “ I know I am terrible to sleep with. Champ usually leaves or sleeps on the couch.”

Nicole’s quiet for a moment, pensively staring at the floor and takes a swig of her Monster before nodding her head and looking up. Waverly resents the way her heart flutters when their eyes meet. “I think you just needed a good cuddlin’,” Nicole says matter-of-factly.

Waverly’s grip slips from the column causing her to stumble forward and catch herself on the counter beside her. She winces when her big toe stabs into the floorboard with a throbbing sting. That’s far from the response she expected from Nicole. Nicole seems about as cuddly as a lionfish, and about as dangerous and beautiful too. “What?”

Nicole wets her lips and pushes off the opposite counter with two flirtatious little dimples etched into her cheeks. “You kicked and squirmed and tore the damn bed apart and at one point I was more off the bed than on, but…” She tears the tab off her Monster and drops it in the can. It shakes in her hand like a rattle as she talks. “After about the 30th time you elbowed me in the ribs, I rolled over and trapped you in a cuddle like a human Thunder shirt, and then you held the fuck still. Problem solved.” She winks.

Waverly blinks as she tries to picture it. A cuddle? She doesn’t remember cuddling, not real cuddling. She only remembers clinging to Nicole’s back and fighting Calamity Jane for leg room. “Huh.” She exhales. That’s about all she manages to get out as her brain dissolves into mush at just the mere thought of Nicole volunteering to cuddle.

Nicole runs her hand through her wet hair tucking it behind her ear. The movement raises her V-neck T-shirt just enough to see the lines of her sharp hipbone disappear into the black waistband of her Tomboy underwear. It captures Waverly’s full attention.

Her tongue flicks out along her lips as she notes the black tip of a vape pen sticking out of one pocket and a knife clipped to the inside of the other. Subtle displays of danger and mystery further alluding to Nicole’s irresistible bad boy charm.

Waverly hates it, and more importantly, she hates that she likes it. She follows all the rules, works hard, and lives by a strong set of moral values, but Nicole shatters every one of them and it drives her crazy in a way she craves.

Her face gets all steamy again and her eyes roam the lay of the land with x-ray vision knowing now what’s hidden underneath the rest of Nicole’s clothes. Waverly will have the image of Nicole’s hot wet skin seared into the back of her eyelids forever.

Nicole’s alluring smile doesn’t leave any room for disappointment either, the way she bites her lip and flashes those dimples when she catches Waverly looking again. Nicole owns the attention whereas Waverly shies away from it.

Nicole lets her look a moment longer then turns to the cabinet under the sink and deposits her empty Monster in the trash. All that sexy fog fluffing up Waverly’s brain whisks away in a hurry when that can clinks against another.

She stomps over and slams the heel of her hand into that sharp hipbone to push Nicole out of the way. Nicole stumbles to the side while her feet sort themselves out. “Watch it!”

Waverly fishes out the can along with 3 others she now cradles in her arms. “Where is your recycling?”

“I don’t have one.”

“But these need to be recycled.”

Nicole folds her arms across her chest and leans with her hip against the counter. “You know you’re awfully bossy for someone who was voted the nicest person in Purgatory.”

“You can’t just throw these in the regular trash!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Limited resources Nicole and—and overflowing landfills...do you even care about the ocean?” She lectures and lines up the purple Monsters like bowling pins on the counter. One of them makes her hands sticky and she wipes it on her pajama shorts. She tries to nudge Nicole away so she can dig for any other cans carelessly misplaced there.

“Gee, I think I liked you better when you were asleep.” Nicole huffs and blows the cans over. They come crashing to the floor in a loud ear ringing ruckus. The unsurmountable level of childlessness Nicole will stoop too has Waverly fuming in disbelief.

“Really dude!”

Amused, Nicole just laughs. “You know what I think.?” She presses forward and Waverly retracts sending a can across the kitchen floor with the heel of her foot. In one swift movement, Nicole slips her arms around Waverly’s waist and lifts her in the air with ease, her legs kick out in front of them. “You need to cool off.” Nicole grunts and proceeds to carry Waverly out of the kitchen and into the foyer. “How about I run you a nice cold shower wifey.” She teases.

Waverly’s fingers slip past the column as she tries to stall her red-headed wife, but no dice. Flailing arms and legs do nothing to disarm Nicole in all her ornery strength as she makes her way to the stairs. Waverly screams and kicks harder. “Put me down right now Nicole!”

Calamity Jane scuttles past them startled by the two chime doorbell echoing through the foyer and into the living room. Nicole falters. She loosens her grip just enough for Waverly to wiggle to the floor and run toward the door. Waverly just barely grips the handle before Nicole catches her again, this time scooping her off her feet and cradling her as she makes her way up the stairs.

The doorbell chimes a second time. “Help!”

Nicole ignores it. It’s a struggle but Waverly gets a grip on the railing and manages to wrap her arms snug around a post. The edges bite into her forearms and her muscles strain against Nicole’s grip around her waist while Nicole tugs playfully.

“Let go of me, you weirdo!”

“Not until you chill out.” Nicole chuckles.

“I’m I chill okay. I’m chill.”

Nicole keeps tugging and laughing. She’s like a child. Even Wynonna wasn’t this obnoxious as a teenager and she was a shit 90% of the time. Nicole lives in some other reality where this kind of behavior is socially acceptable. It’s chaos. Waverly doesn’t do chaos.

The door opens just in time to save her from an imminent cold shower. Jeremy clears his throat standing in the doorway with a paper bag dangling at his side. Meanwhile, Waverly’s legs are straight out in the air like a flag on a flagpole.

“I really do pick the weirdest moments to come in, don’t I?”

Nicole drops Waverly’s legs and her feet land awkwardly on the edge of the step. She slides to her knees and down one step before Nicole catches her under her arms.

“Sorry.” Nicole grumbles.

Bruises already blossom over her knees where they collided with the hardwood. It only smarts a little. She swats Nicole away and uses the railing to pull herself up. “Let go of me. I’ve got it.”

“So, what’s going on?” Jeremy laughs uncomfortably.

“Uh, we were just…” She looks over her shoulder at Nicole who shrugs offering nothing. “Never mind.” She shakes her head flustered and hoping he doesn’t notice how surprised she is to see him. She forgot they had talked about him coming over last night. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Robins coming over for some PGE stuff and Jeremy wanted an excuse to run into him. Waverly thought his presence might calm her nerves for whatever Robin has in store for them.

He’s always been there. He did her make up for prom and danced with her after Champ dipped out to get high behind the gym with his stupid friends, then disappeared to who knows where. He was there when Champ cheated on her the first time with vanilla dipped donuts and the first 3 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy. They cried together.

Waverly would have just dated him had he not come out to her in the 6th grade. Jeremy is a good friend. Her best friend.

“Oh, I get it.” He grins and covers his heart. “Your secrets safe with me.”

“No Jer there’s no—”

“I’ll keep it on the down low.” He continues.

Getting increasingly more flustered she stammers out a protest and emphasizes it with her hands cutting through the air in the form of an X. “There’s no secret. Nothing to hide here.” Nicole continues to offer nothing and instead stands with an amused smirk on her face while Waverly struggles. Everything’s always so funny to her, isn’t it?

“Right.” He winks. “I have something to show you. Both of you actually.”

“Oh. Um, come on in it.” Waverly sweeps her arm across her body gesturing to the living room. “Make yourself at home.”

Nicole clears her throat rudely from the stairs but follows Waverly and Jeremy into the living room.

“Nice house.” He says in awe head tilted to the vaulted ceiling and dark espresso wood beams. “Nice touch.” Nicole’s eyes follow his. A soft smile tilts her lips as she joins him in admiration.

“I like the chandelier.” He points to the rod iron ring suspended with matching chain and adorned with 7 Edison bulbs. “So industrial.”

“Thanks. I made it.” Nicole says. She presses her hands into the back of the couch and leans over slightly. Waverly takes in a long slow breath and lets it out in huff that blows a strand of hair off her face. Crushing one of those Monster cans in her fists sounds awfully therapeutic right now. So what? Nicole builds things. That’s definitely not super sexy.

And yet, she finds her eyes drifting off to fantasy land studying the way Nicole tucks her still damp hair behind her ear, then slips the pen from her pocket. A wisp of vaper lick over her soft parted lips and her tongue flicks out wetting them before taking another drag.

She pushes off the couch and takes a couple of steps backward toward the kitchen, her mouth in a cocky smirk. “Yeah, I’m pretty good with my hands.” She winks and turns around walking into the kitchen.

“Very cool.” Jeremy nods with a grin.

“Do you want anything to drink? Water? tea?” Waverly blurts out in hopes to take the attention off Nicole’s handy work and the sneaking ache growing between her legs the more she thinks about Nicole naked in the shower.

“No. No. I’m fine.” He situations himself on the couch with his eyes still wandering through the living space. Waverly plops down beside him, hands folded in her lap fidgeting anxiously. Nicole posts up in the kitchen entryway building a vanilla scented cloud around her. The vaper rolls out smooth over her lips and curls back through her nostrils. Such a disgusting habit.

“So, what did you want to show us?”

“Oh!” He nods and reaches into the paper bag now at his feet and comes up with two rolled up tubes. The rubber bands holding them together are discarded and he flattens the tubes on the coffee table. One of them being the Purgatory Chronical. “You’re in the news!” He chirps excitedly.

Nicole pushes off the entryway column and strides over vaper trailing behind her. They all lean over the paper curiously.

The front page reads: Purgatories Nicest Wed for Television.

Purgatories very own Waverly Earp married on national Television Saturday morning as part of ABC’s hit show Newlyweds. Earp 23, and spouse Nicole Haught 28, said their ‘I do’s’ on her father’s property formally known as the Homestead. When asked about their nuptials friends and family were both delighted and surprised by the sudden engagement. “I didn’t even know they were dating?” Jones, a friend of the couple stated.

Waverly looked over to Nicole slowly sitting down next to her jaw clenched together.

“Look at this one.” Jeremy slides the Entrainment weekly over next. The Front page includes a picture of them sitting on Nicole’s front porch, Waverly on her knee, arm draped over her shoulders looking like a real couple. He licks his finger and flips halfway through the magazine to a two-page spread of similar pictures, one that shows them smashing cake into each other’s mouths. Waverly’s lips turn up a little to that.

Waverly Earp and Nicole Haught, one of 5 couples followed on ABC’s Newlyweds, will be the first featured in the show’s premiere Saturday, March 16th at 8 pm ct. Earp and Haught, both born and raised in the small town of Purgatory, expressed their love in a beautiful outdoor ceremony where family and friends gathered to celebrate. Earp works in a popular coffee shop run by one of the wealthiest families in Purgatory, and Haught owns a bike messaging company. “We at ABC have a good feeling about these two,” Robin says. (Newlyweds producer). “Their love is truly magical. Like a fairytale. I think America will fall in love with them immediately.” The article is preceded with a series of snapshots from the porch photoshoot including the one with their foreheads pressed together.

“Holy…”

“Shit.” Nicole finishes.

“You guys are like famous already.” Jeremy beams, clearly more excited than Waverly or Nicole.

***

“Rosita?” Waverly exclaims puzzled by the dark woman standing in the doorway with heavy luggage under her arm. “More wedding planning?”

Rosita laughs. She drops the luggage to the floor of the foyer. Robin squeezes in next to her with his clipboard, both with smiles like gold ribbons pinned to their faces, bright and sparkly.

“No-no Mrs. Earp. That chapter is closed.” Robin says. His eyes flicker to Jeremy standing quietly beside her and gives him a shy nod. A happy heat radiates off Jeremy and hits Waverly like a little sunbeam. It’s been a while since Jeremy’s dated anyone or talked to anyone after that awkward Grindr date, he had last year. He has yet to give Waverly the full deets on that.

“Thank God. I can’t handle another wedding.” Nicole says then stuffs her face with vanilla Twinkie. She’s too far away to elbow so Waverly reaches out and pinches her side instead. It makes her jump. She swats Waverly away and smiles playfully with a little bit of cream filling on her upper lip.

It catches Waverly off guard. Nicole is full of confusing surprises today. “Be nice.” She says to resist the pull at her own lips and turns her attention back to Robin and Rosita. “Well, what are you doing here?”

“Oh. I’m in charge of makeup and wardrobe. I’m here to get you ready for your post-wedding interviews.” Rosita says.

Nicole whines through all that sugary fluff she’d managed to cram into her mouth. “More interviews?” Waverly gives her a dirty look over her shoulders, but Nicole just grins again, cheeks bulging with the last half of that Twinkie

“It’s just a mini interview really.” Robin inserts. “A few questions a few photos. Nothing big. Just a little something for the tabloids to start out before we start filming episode 1 on Tuesday.”

Waverly laces her fingers with Jeremy’s. “Jeremy usually does my makeup for special occasions.” Jeremy blushes and ducks his head when Robin’s blue doe eyes fall back to him eyelashes batting lightly.

“That’s perfect.” Rosita chimes with her usual enthusiasm. “Jeremy, you can work with Waverly and I’ll tackle Nicole.”

A cough of surprise turns Waverly’s attention back to Nicole wearing a smug look on her face. She wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and points up the stairs. “My bedroom is just right up here.”

Waverly raises an eyebrow. She’s not in the slightest bit surprised by Nicole’s presumptuous gesture. Nicole’s mind is probably nothing but a wheel of spinning dirty thoughts and Waverly can almost understand why.

The considerable amount of validation Nicole appears to get every time a woman so much as acknowledges her feeds her egotistical delusions that all women are just waiting around for her to fuck them. It’s hard for Waverly to deny some truth to that given the countless times she’s watched Nicole leave Ice-Nine with a new low self-esteem drama addict clinging to her arm and looking for a project.

Waverly gets it. They’re fixers. It’s fun to fix things, but people aren’t things to be fixed. She knows this all too well. Still, she can hardly blame them for trying. It’s not like she hasn’t fanaticized about being one of those girls walking around wearing Nicole’s arm like a championship belt. Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her and letting Nicole take her home, to have her. It’s all childish and Waverly’s not a child anymore. She’s a grown ass woman.

“Don’t worry Waverly.” Rosita winks and leans in close. She drops her voice to a whisper. “I have dealt with worse.”

Is that true? Does Rosita spend part of her job controlling the uncontrollable? Waverly couldn’t handle another Nicole. One is more than a handful. Her charm is like magic, like a salesman selling herself, she can talk anyone into anything, or out of anything. Waverly knows for a fact she charmed the cheerleader skirt right off Abigail Taylor her senior year.

Waverly was a sophomore then, and Nicole had just transferred from the Rebound School of Opportunity. She’d only met Nicole a few times in passing, but mostly knew of her through stories from Wynonna.

It was a confusing moment walking into the girl’s locker room to find Nicole’s hand up Abigail’s skirt while Abigail was pinned up against the locker with one leg hooked around Nicole’s hip.

Waverly stood frozen with her hand still on the doorknob just watching. She’ll never forget how the locker rattled with every thrust sending static down her spine. Or the way her cheeks grew hot when Nicole slid to her knees, hiked up Abigail’s skirt a little more, and replaced her hand with her mouth.

All their heavy breathing burst forth into desperate moans that echoed off the tile floors and concrete walls while Waverly was bound in the perversity of it all.

Waverly felt dirty and creepy, but she couldn’t bring herself to move or even look away. She was just 15 and Nicole was a super senior, too old for Waverly. Not like Abigail, 18 and experienced with a perfect body.

She finally unfroze when Samantha Baker stalked in after her and screamed. Nicole startled and glanced over her shoulder at Waverly with a deer in the headlights look. What did Nicole really expect fucking in the girl’s locker room so openly and right after cheer practice? Sometimes Waverly wonders if Nicole wanted to be caught.

That was the first time Waverly thought about Nicole as anything more than a sleazy little dirtbag with a bad habit of swinging her fists.

It took Samantha running out in a fit for Waverly to realize she had stopped breathing. Of course, Samantha went out and told the whole cheer squad. Fortunately, Abigail gave no fucks about what anyone thought of her.

Samantha dropped it. It wasn’t fun if it didn’t hurt. Waverly dropped it too, for a while. There were other moments over the years, but the feeling didn’t really flare up again until Nicole started coming into Eden’s every day.

Waverly doesn’t really know Nicole. She only has the coffee shop and the rumors. That’s where she draws her conclusions, but rumors aren’t enough to describe a whole person. It’s something she finds herself increasingly more curious about. What is Nicole’s truth?

***

It’s pajama porn.

“Alright, ladies. You both look fabulous this morning. Let’s see what you got.” Shelly says.

Nicole is already stationed in her bed. Her pajamas include a clean white V-neck t-shirt and light grey pajama pants. Waverly looks down at her own skimpy maroon silk shorts and spaghetti strap tank top. What kind of bullshit is this?

The top sheet is spread lazily over Nicole’s legs bent up in front of her. They’re not the sheets Nicole had on her bed this morning. Rosita must have changed them. Robin gestures for Waverly to slide in too.

“Closer now.” He says.

Waverly shifts over as far as she can without overlapping, but their hips still touch. Nicole gives her a dirty look when their elbows bump and she tucks her arm into her stomach.

“Alright. I am going to ask you a few questions about the wedding and Shelly is going to take a few photos. Okay?”

Rosita adjusts the top sheet to drape over Waverly’s legs too. It’s less silky than Nicole’s sheets. Heavier. Warmer. “Just enough skin to be sexy…but not too sexy.”

“This is the gayest shit I have ever had to do.” Nicole gripes.

“Don’t be so rude.” Waverly finds satisfaction in any opportunity to elbow Nicole in the ribs.

“Don’t be so rude.” Nicole mocks.

“What is your deal?” Nicole just smiles like it’s fun. She’s got Peter Pan syndrome that’s what her deal is. Just a big kid in grown-up pajamas. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Aren’t I though?”

“No, you’re annoying.”

“Okay.” Robin claps his hands to get their attention. He situates himself on his fold-out stool with Shelly on his right, angling the camera every which way. The occasional click goes off when Shelly takes a shot. “Let’s begin. Mrs. Haught tell me what your favorite thing about the wedding was?”

All Waverly can think about are the scary biker dudes and Nicole arguing with Wynonna in the chapel. How quick Nicole was to smile and play innocent and Wynonna was just silent. The two of them sharing any kind of secret is disconcerting considering their history of suspicious behavior.

Wynonna was caught hotwiring cars more than once. Nedley pulled all the strings to keep her out of jail, but she accumulated her fair share of frequent flyers miles to Juvie. She didn’t mess around with it anymore after her 18th. Nedley warned her he couldn’t help her after that.

Nedley pulled strings for Nicole too. She’s the crazy asshole who burnt the Sports Supply Store to the ground, then sat outside on the sidewalk waiting to be arrested. It didn’t make any sense. Wynonna said she’s just too stupid to run. Nicole got the same warning at 18.

Neither has been in trouble like that since.

“The food,” Nicole says. Waverly attention snaps to the girl who threw a tantrum about the falafel on her plate. Now she likes the food?

“Can you elaborate?” Robin asks.

“It was vegan.” She smiles and takes Waverly’s hand. “Waverly tries so hard to be vegan, but you should see what this girl eats.” She chuckles.

Waverly clenches her jaw and fights the urge to jab her elbow hard into Nicole’s ribs. Is Mrs. Skittles for dinner really criticizing what Waverly eats?

“I really just want to be supportive. Which is why I picked up a vegan cookbook and learned a few recipes so I can cook for her.”

“You did?” Waverly asks, surprised. She believes it long enough to say the words before she comes back to reality.

“I told you I am going to take care of you, snookums.”

She scoffs, rips her hand out of Nicole’s grip, and scoots towards the edge of the bed. “You’re full of shit…and I don’t need you to take care of me…And don’t call me snookums! It’s weird…” she trails off.

“Okay moving on.” Robin chuckles nervously. “Mrs. Earp, what are you most looking forward to in your marriage with Nicole?”

How is she supposed to answer that? The end? The money? The return of her sanity? How can she possibly find something to look forward to in her marriage with this lying clown?

“Excuse me, sorry. Waverly darling can you just tuck yourself back in there.” Shelly gestures with a wave of his hand. She begrudgingly slides herself back into position, thighs, and hips touching Nicole’s. “Hmm, no that’s not working. A little more.”

“Fine.” She crawls over Nicole’s leg and settles in her lap. Nicole’s body stiffens and her hands hover over Waverly’s sides awkwardly. Waverly wraps them around herself. She’s surprised to feel Nicole melt around her. Even more surprised when she finds herself leaning back comfortably against Nicole’s chest like they have done this a million times before. “Happy?”

“Lovely. Now, remember to smile.” He draws a smile over his face with his finger then gives them a thumbs up.

“Okay, Mrs. Earp, let’s try again. What are you most looking forward to in your marriage with Nicole?”

Waverly scourers her brain for any kind of an answer, but all she can think about is Champ sneaking away at night, leaving her alone and cold. Nicole didn’t leave. Maybe she wasn’t overly enthused about it, but Nicole stayed the whole night apparently cuddling her. So, what is she looking forward to most? The only answer that comes to her is a grumbling plea from her empty stomach. “Breakfast?”

Nicole snorts.

“Keep going, Waverly.” Robin encourages.

“No.” She fidgets with her hands and shakes her head. “No, I mean that feeling when you wake up next to someone, wrapped up in their arms…and you don’t want to get out of bed,” She sighs in a dream-like state, while she fantasizes about waking up to the smell of pancakes and veggie bacon, someone’s in the kitchen setting the table. They smile when she wanders in all sleepy-eyed and hungry.

“but when you finally do, you…you make breakfast. I’d probably eat like way too many pancakes, maybe the kind with blueberries in them.” She sighs again feeling silly. “I guess that sounds kind of stupid but that’s what I look forward to in a mar—in my marriage to Nicole.”

“That’s not stupid,” Nicole whispers into her hair. Her arms wrap a little tighter around Waverly's waist. Waverly’s not sure if she pulled them tighter or if Nicole did.

“That’s beautiful Waverly.” Robin praises. Shelly’s camera goes off in a blinding flash forcing Waverly to blink to adjust.

“Oops, sorry dears.”

Nicole’s face lights up into a roguish grin. She jabs her fingers into Waverly’s sides causing Waverly to cry out in laughter. She kicks and squirms in Nicole’s lap giggling uncontrollably but internally cussing Nicole out. When she stops, she swoops in and takes Waverly by surprise. She’s good at stealing Waverly’s kisses.

“Fan. Tas. Tic.” Shelly claps out. “Love it. Couldn’t have made it better if I had directed it myself.” He packs up his things. Nicole jerks away and wipes her mouth. “I love you girls; you make my job so easy. Chow!”

***

Waverly thumbs at her finger mindlessly, shifting the diamond setting back and forth. It only goes so far to the left and to the right, but it refuses to let go of her damn finger. It just clings to her, taunting her in all its glittered glory. Why couldn’t it have been a princess cut in that box?

“I see you’re still wearing that shithead’s ring,” Wynonna says. A dark hatred brews behind her icy blue eyes as she dunks a fry in the ketchup pooling on her plate and shoves it in her mouth. Wynonna points out the ring every time she sees it. She seems more worried about it than Waverly.

“It still won’t come off.”

She just nods with a stare tossing a few more ketchup coated fries in her mouth. That’s her second helping of Rowdy’s crinkle fries, her favorite ever since she was a kid. The diner is permeated with the smell of them. It clings to Waverly’s skin all greasy.

When they were kids Uncle Julian would bring them here all the time in the summer when daddy was at work—if he was sober enough to make it to work. It’s Uncle Julian’s favorite too. Something the two of them bond over still.

Julian moans his appreciate as he works on his Deluxe Rowdy burger—no ketchup. Ketchup makes everything taste the same. He likes spicy mustard instead mixed with Rowdy’s Boom-Wow sauce. It makes it fire in your mouth spicy.

Waverly gets stuck with just the fries. Despite her constant suggestions, Rowdy still hasn’t added a veggie burger to the menu.

She spreads out her finger and admires the way the light refracts off the 2.5ct diamond in a blinding disco ball of light. Then there are all the smaller diamonds that surround it in a glittery halo and the intricate filigree curling down the setting. The ring is old, generations old, and tarnished in places. It probably came right off the boat smuggled underneath granny Haught’s petticoat.

It surprises her that Nicole hasn’t said anything more about it. She made such a big deal about her grandmother’s precious ring and then nothing like it never happened. The princess cut is still lost somewhere in that drab grey room in a different black velvet box.

She doesn’t hate it. The way it looks or the way it feels. Only what it means, that she belongs to Nicole. That this real ring makes her fake wedding real because this ring comes with different expectations. Ones that even Shae couldn’t uphold.

Shae doesn’t like old things. Maybe Shae didn’t like Nicole’s old house. The house is beautiful, but shit, it has a lot of issues. Issues Nicole seems determined to fix herself. Yesterday Waverly wandered into one of the spare rooms and was shocked to see the wall torn open with exposed pipes and electrical wires looking like bones and guts. A few hours after that Waverly plugged in the toaster and the power went out on the entire first floor. Nicole just shrugged and said it’s on her list. How long is her fudging list?

“Maybe it belongs there.” Julian takes Waverly’s hand to admire it watching it sparkle with the same look of fascination Waverly feels when she stares at it.

“Are you new here?” Wynonna says, nudging him, and shoving two ketchup drenched fries in her mouth. “This is Nicole’s ring…Nicole Haught?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Waverly scolds.

“I just mean it could be a good sign.” He shrugs and releases Waverly’s hand. “How is everything going?”

“Fine, I guess.” Waverly says. The creepy feeling comes back when she things about last night and the nightmare. She nips the end of a crinkle fry and frowns. Why is she such a freak racing through the house like a scared little girl?

Uncle Julian’s brow knits together as he studies her face. Intuition kicks in. She’s never been good at hiding things from him. “What’s bothering you, my angel?”

Wynonna scowls at him. She thinks he’s too soft, too sappy, and too nice. She clears her throat and mimics his posture. “What’s bothering you, my angel.” She pinches her lips together to keep from laughing.

Waverly’s cast her a glance of disapproval. She wouldn’t be Wynonna if she didn’t tease him every chance she gets.

“I don’t know. I had a nightmare last night and…”

“What about?” Uncle Julian asks.

“I don’t remember I just…I ran into Nicole’s room and kind of slept with her.”

Wynonna leans over the table and smacks her with greasy fingers. “Waverly, you didn’t?”

“Okay ow!” She rubs her palm over the sting. “I don’t mean like that. I was scared.” She looks down and shifts awkwardly in her seat. The vinyl of the red booth bench squeaks and sticks to her skin. “and I needed someone. She was there. That’s all.”

“Next time just call me.”

“You live 25 minutes away.”

“I’d still come. If you needed me.”

“How’s work?” Julian says changing the subject.

Wynonna grunts and slurps down her cola. “Dolls is such a grump ass. He’s always like ‘Earp do this’, ‘Earp do that’, blah blah blah.”

“Isn’t that his job? To be your boss.” Waverly says.

She hooks her thumb to her chest defiantly and scowls. “I’m my own boss.”

Waverly still doesn’t fully understand what Wynonna does for Black Badge. Some kind of undercover detective work. Dolls calls her a confidential informant. They use her because of her past. As a CI Wynonna works closely with big-time criminals to gather information and report back to Black Badge. It’s dangerous.

Black Badge primarily focuses on unusual criminal activity, currently, their focus is the Cult of Blushar.

Bulshar, used to be known as Jonathon Clootie. He was the Sheriff of Purgatory before he went crazy with delusions. He’d rant on about the Garden and the stairwell in the woods.’ It’s just some old stones thrown together really. Kids dare each other to climb them, but Clootie swears up and down they lead to the Garden.

Of course, he was written off as a whack job. He lost his position as Sheriff which really sent him off the deep end. He started recruiting biker gangs and other delinquents to join his cult in search of a weapon that supposedly opens the doorway at the top of the stairs. Wynonna says his cult members are infiltrating all kinds of business in Purgatory selling illegal substances and searching for the weapon. He’s powerful, dangerous, and is Black Badges number one priority.

It makes Waverly sick thinking about her sister working with those Cult members. Wynonna says they trust her because of her background. She’s close to some of them. Another thought that turns Waverly’s stomach.

“Anyway, he has me going out on a job tomorrow. I’m meeting up with this guy named Levi, he says he has some information for me on a group running out of the Rusty Bucket6 3 miles south of Purgatory.”

“Should you be talking about his in a public place?” Julian hushes.

Wynonna just shrugs and shoves in a few more ketchup drenched fries.

“You be careful Wynonna.” Waverly reaches her hand across the table and grabs Wynonna with a little squeeze. “Please. I just got you back.”

“Don’t worry baby girl. I always am.”

***

It feels like it’s been hours of just wiggling tiny little thumbtacks into the wall all for the sake of twinkling lights. Her fingers and her thumb are raw from the rough-edged plastic grinding into the sensitive skin there. An angry burn flares over her shoulders, into her biceps and her wrists. It’s become damn near unbearable. She shakes out her arms and rolls her neck.

It would help if she wasn’t balancing on a makeshift step stool aka a very unreliable side table with a bum leg. She found a Philips screwdriver in one of her boxes and promoted it to hammer, but it only breaks the plastic. “Fudgenuggets.”

“Hey, are you going to be making this noise all night?” The voice comes out of nowhere, seemingly disembodied, it sends a spooky little chill up Waverly’s spine and makes the soft hairs stand up on the back of her neck. What is it about this house that has her so freaked out? It’s old and creepy, probably haunted with the ghost of a previous owner, or with the ghost of a marriage. Maybe she’s just not used to someone else always being around, lurking in the doorway.

Her foot kicks off the edge of the table in her jolt to turn around. It finally gives, leg snapping clean off, and dropping Waverly on her ass. She catches herself half on her elbows shredding the skin there, and the throbbing in her tailbone takes her breath away. The screwdriver is lost in the fall and skids across the floor to meet Nicole’s foot.

“Ow!” She squeals when the pain lets up enough for a sound to escape her throat.

“Waverly!” Nicole moves fast. Edward Cullen fast, and before Waverly can adjust to being on the floor Nicole scoops her up and sets her gracefully on the edge of the mattress. She squats in front of her, her eyes evaluating for injury. “Are you okay. Are you hurt?”

“Well nothings broken,” Waverly says examining her elbow. She blows over the sting, but the cool stream of air does nothing but add fuel to a fire. “So yeah, I guess I’m okay, no thanks to you sneaking down the hallway.”

“Sorry,” Nicole smiles. “Once a ninja always a ninja.” Then her face softens like wet clay on a potter’s wheel. Whatever it is that gives her that puppy dog-look, it molds into something that says, everything’s going to be okay. Waverly needed that look 8 days ago when she signed a year of her life away. Waverly, everything’s going to be okay. She needed that look after taking a tranquilizer dart to the hip on her way to band practice. She made it…thankfully, then went home and slept for 36 hours straight.

Maybe she’s being dramatic. It’s just a face, just a smile, just a mild flutter in her chest, a hitch in her breath. No big deal, right? Everything’s going to be okay.

But it takes her by surprise.

The weight of Nicole’s hands, fingers pressing lightly on the sides of her knees as Nicole looks up at her like that, it’s too much. She clutches her elbow tight against her chest, guarding what’s underneath, her heart—skipping a beat here…thump, adding an extra there…thump-thump, consistently inconsistent, just like Nicole.

“You have a sun in your eyes,” Nicole says.

Waverly blinks and her gaze sinks to the floor. The evening sun cuts through the room like one luminous blade, thin, sharp, and beautiful. She tracks it along the hardwood, highlighting all its grooves and divots, one interlocking board after another, she makes her way back to the window. It pierces through single pane glass but falls to the floor, not in her eyes.

“Am I squinting?” Is she concussed? She doesn’t remember hitting her head.

“No.” The weight on Waverly’s knees momentarily increases while Nicole adjusts to kneel between them. She smiles again, with her head cocked to the side, and reaches up to brush aside a few lazy tendrils hanging around Waverly’s face. The movement is so casual like it doesn’t affect her at all being this close.

“No. The hazel brown ring feathering out from your pupil.” She draws a circle in the air between them with her finger. “It looks like a sun radiating out into your irises. You have a sun in your eyes. Well, one in each.”

And her breath is lost, gone with the wind.

Nicole doesn’t have a sun in her eyes. She has something deeper encased in honey and gold, like amber. A mystery, some magical DNA to be discovered, extracted and mapped out in a theme park. Fun, and a little bit dangerous, or a lot a bit depending on which side of the fence she finds herself.

There’s something else there too, it’s not a sun, it’s a freckle. It’s a hesitation, an extinction, a pinprick of pain preserved forever in resin. Shae?

“Oh. I have never noticed.”

Nicole inches closer, almost nose to nose, demanding Waverly’s attention with just a look. She basks in it, in Waverly’s suns while they trade breath like cards in Go Fish. Waverly’s hands drop to the mattress either side of her, fingers twisting up the cotton sheets, holding back. Didn’t your mother tell you not to stare into the sun?

With her lips just centimeters from Waverly’s, Waverly trades the sheets for Nicole’s t-shirt and leans in to capture her lips but they’re not there. Nicole’s not there kneeling in front of her anymore. Nicole stood up after hazel brown rings and sunshine.

She’s looking down at Waverly now, her face returned to its usually pre-brooding state and Waverly’s left with the hot pink bloom of her out of control fantasies. Dammit WAVERLY! “I would appreciate it if you kept the noise to a minimum. I’m trying to read.”

A tiny spark sets off a roaring fire in Waverly’s belly, the smoke rises and burns through her chest. Is Waverly not good enough for Nicole? Not pretty enough…not broken enough? She spends all this time analyzing other girls’ motives for stooping dirtbag low, but is she the lowest, not even worth trying?

“Sure. Fine. I think I’ll call it a night anyway.” She resigns.

“Night’.” And with Nicole disappears out the door.

***

The thunder cracks like a whip out her window. She fights the urge to run, but when it becomes so frequent Waverly can’t tell where one roar ends and the next begins. It’s like war, violent crashing explosions.

She hears voices coming down the hallway. That can’t be real. It’s just her imagination flourishing in the chaos. Then she hears something else. Something sickeningly familiar. The click of a door as somebody sneaks out of the house. She looks around. It’s not Champ. She’s not in her apartment above the laundromat. Then who?

She grabs her water bottle off the nightstand as if that will protect her and tiptoes out of bed. There’s a light on downstairs. Nicole’s awake, or she just left all the lights on.

Waverly creeps down the hall with her back to the wall until the wall ends and she peaks cautiously over the railing at the front door. The porch light flickers off and a car can be heard driving away. No one’s there except the patter of feet coming around the corner. It’s Nicole walking through the foyer in nothing but black Tomboy boxer briefs tearing into a package of Skittles with her teeth. She stops to peak out the window before heading up the stairs half naked.

Waverly silently retreats taking careful backward steps until she’s in the safety of her room and shuts the door leaving it open just a crack.

A sudden boom of thunder, something like a roaring giant bites into the roof leaving jagged imprints of its teeth. Waverly screams. Rain rushes through the bite mark drenching the box of books Jeremy hauled up.

Nicole heard it too. She barrels in her arm halfway through the hole in a cut off tank top panicked and wild-eyed. “What the fuck happened?”

Waverly points to the gaping hole stunned.

“Dammit,” Nicole says and slaps her hands to her temples. “I’ll put it on the top of my list.”

“I can’t have a hole in my roof!”

“I’ll fix it tomorrow I promise. For now, I’ll get a couple of buckets from the garage to catch the rain.”

“There’s a garage?”

***

A few decorations from the box she brought down add color and warmth to the industrial grey Nicole entombs herself in. Not all of Waverly’s things will fit into one tiny bedroom, but there’s no reason why she can’t spread out a little. It’s her house too for the next year. Nicole will likely have some things to say about it, but Waverly’s not afraid to fight her for a few decorative couch pillows and long stem candles.

The room feels less sterile and homier now. If it weren’t for that damn racket outside driving her crazy all morning, she might be able to sit and enjoy it.

She can’t really complain. The hole in the roof had to be fixed and Nicole put it at the top of her list like she said she would, but every move she makes up there sounds like a heard of elephants.

Waverly crosses the room and pauses in front of one of the giant windows. The back wall on the first floor is almost entirely made from windows looking out into the wooded area out back.

There are piles strewn out in the grass of 2x4’s, plywood, and shingles. Nicole already tore off some of the damaged material from the roof and threw them beside the corner of the house. It’s 85F outside, one of the hotter days so far this spring. Nicole must be roasting.

Waverly pries herself away from the view and fetches a beer from the fridge. The beer’s already sweating outside the cool enclosure, but it will be cold enough for Nicole. The glass door to the backyard blends in with the windowed wall. It opens to an old wooden balcony that is in need of a new stain finish. Off the balcony is the stairs leading down to the grass where Nicole works.

Nicole’s leaning over a tool bench with a 2x4 firm in her hands and her brow concentrated in a straight line. There’s a lit cigarette hanging loose from her lips and bead of sweat trails down the side of her face it curls under her chin. She cuts a line into the 2X4 with a pencil.

“You’re making an awful lot of noise down there.” Waverly teases.

Nicole doesn’t look up right away. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks in on her cigarette then stands there for a moment. She nods her head and smiles; smoke rushes out her nostrils. “You don’t want a hole in your roof, do you?” She says with the cigarette bouncing lazily off her lip and straightens out to focus on Waverly.

Those black Carhartt overalls aren’t the same skintight as her ripped jeans but the rolled up ankle cuffs still offer a similar slim look. The straps of the overalls draw lines across her back and chest separating the sun-beaten pink from vampire white. She doesn’t have more than a sports bra underneath all that heavy denim leaving her ribs and the hint of a toned abdomen exposed. Waverly continues to take in the sight of Nicole as she descends the stairs.

“So, you know how to patch roofs?”

“Among other things,” Nicole says, smug, and takes the cigarette between her index and middle finger. The end turns bright red as she sucks in and the paper curls black and flaky. She pulls it away pinched between her fingers, studies it as she exhales before flicking it toward the wooded area behind her.

Waverly cringes. Her eyes track it’s landing still smoking when it hits the grass. “Smokey the bear would be glad to know you’re doing your part to prevent forest fires.”

Nicole huffs and flips the 2x4 from the table to her hands. “Smokey the bear can eat my ass.”

“Ew Nicole.”

The 2x4 is laid out on a saw table with a large intimidating saw blade. Waverly doesn’t like the sound it makes when Nicole feeds the wood through its serrated edges. Nicole blows the dust off the freshly cut edge and examines it before throwing it over her shoulder. “My grandpa built this house with his own hands…and he taught me how to build it too so that I could take care of it when he was gone.”

“He gave it to you?”

Nicolet tucks her hair behind her ear and wipes the sweat from her forehead. “Well, not exactly.” She lets the 2x4 slide to her feet and she rests her hand on the top end leaning on it like a post. “He died before he could. My grandma gave the house to my mother when she moved into a retirement home.”

“My mother wants to sell it,” She snorts and picks up a bitterness to her voice. “to support her nomad lifestyle going from one hippie drug festival to the other. In the meantime, she lets me live here to do all the maintenance for free.” Nicole laughs and scans the back of the house over her shoulder. “It’s definitely not up to code. So, I just take my sweet-ass-time with it while I save enough money to buy it from her myself.”

“So that’s why you’re doing this? For your grandpa’s house?”

She nods and throws the 2x4 back over her shoulders with her arms draped over it like wooden shackles. “Is that beer for me?”

“Yeah.”

Waverly gazes over the exposed skin under Nicole’s overalls and notices a small mark the size of a golfball on Nicole’s lower rib. A tattoo. She focuses on it as she crosses the yard to where Nicole’s standing. It’s a symbol that looks like a cactus with lots of arms. Waverly recognizes it because Wynonna has the same tattoo on the back of her neck. It’s always hidden under her luscious mane of hair, so Waverly forgets it’s there. When Waverly asked about it, she said it was something she got in juvie. It protected her she said, kept others from messing with her.

“What is that?” Waverly asks, hoping for a better answer than Wynonna offered. The beer dangles lifelessly in her hand. Nicole’s eyes follow Waverly’s finger down her side. “Wynonna has that too.”

A familiar cloud of angst rolls over them like a storm, angry and unforgiving. She’s like a reverse Sour Patch Kid. First, she’s sweet, then she’s a jackass.

“Waverly, are you going to continue to stare at me like you have been all weekend or are you going to hand me that beer?” Nicole’s voice is curt, and her chest is rising and falling too fast to be holding still.

“I have not been staring at you!” A hint of amber swirls in with the dark in Nicole’s eyes. Just enough to brighten them to a taunting gold. She shrugs and admits. “Maybe like once…for a second.”

“Yeah, well, maybe like once…for a second you could make yourself useful.”

“Shove it up your ass Nicole!” Waverly makes a poor attempt at throwing the beer into the woods, but it slips and lands 2 feet away. She growls, snatches it back up, and stomps back up the stairs.

Sour Patch Kids don’t get beer.

***

Nicole trudges through the kitchen. The fridge opens. Beer bottles rattle followed by the pop of escaped carbonation and a swiveling bottle cap on the granite. Her footsteps creep up on Waverly lounging on the couch with her pillows.

She yanks one off the couch and holds it up. She takes a swig of her beer as she inspects it. “Waverly, what is this?”

“It’s a pillow.”

“It has…fur.”

This time Waverly is the one who doesn’t look up imagining Nicole’s face as she sees something other than 50 shades of gray. It’s time for Nicole to upgrade to color television. “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Huh?”

Waverly turns to face her, sweat and dirt covered, overall strap dangling by her hip, hair pulled back on top, looking red and wild. She tries not to laugh at the tough guy holding a blue fur pillow.

“It’s faux and it’s cozy.”

Nicole flings it like a Frisbee over the couch where it lands catawampus by Waverly’s feet. “I don’t like it. Get it out of here.”

This hot mess isn’t going to win this fight. Waverly’s learning all of Nicole’s intimidation tactics, all her bully bullshit. She grew up with an older sister she knows how to fight back. “If I have to live here for a year, I want it to look like my house too. I only added a little color. It’s not like it’s pink.” Though that can be arranged.

“Well, what are these?” Nicole stomps around the couch to the coffee table. She sets the beer down with a fizzing emphasis and points to the candlesticks on the center of the table.

“What do they look like?”

“This isn’t some girly dorm room for you to vomit all over. This is where I read, and I prefer to do it without clutter.”

Waverly stands, crosses her arms, and stares her down with all the energy she can find.

Nicole stalks closer challenging her stare edging closer until their foreheads almost touch and she looks into Waverly’s eyes for any hint of weakness.

“Don’t make that face at me,” Waverly says through tight lips.

Nicole inches back. “What face.”

“Your sad angry eyes. You’re always trying to intimidate me with that look. Well, I won’t be intimidated, Nicole Haught. I’m keeping these decorations out here and that’s that.”

Nicole blinks like Waverly just smacked her on the nose with a newspaper. “Okay.” She says. “Do what you want. I need to shower.” And smirks. “Feel free to join.”

Waverly stands mouth open watching Nicole disappear up the stairs. “Un-friggen-believable.”

***

Waverly finds Nicole on the couch with a book resting against the backs of her knees folded in front of her and the stench of musky earth saturates the air all the way over to the stair landing. Waverly figured she would be here, so she brought a book of her own. It’s still a little bit damp from the late night down poor through the hole in her roof. A hole that is now been fixed.

The night is clear to Waverly’s relief after a weeks’ worth of raging thunder and relentless rain pounding on the rooftop. It might actually possible to get a good nights sleep in her own bed. Even if the storm comes back tenfold, she’s going to have to sleep in there with the door shut tight. Nicole’s bed is significantly less appealing now that Waverly is sure she had a girl in there last night. The thought of sleeping with Nicole after that makes her skin crawl.

The curtains are open on the back windows and only a few tiny orbs of light can be seen in the thick black night. She can pinpoint exactly which little orb is Bunny Loblaws even when blind to the garish pink.

The stars become more visible the closer to the couch she gets. She could never see the stars from her apartment above the laundromat. Too many streetlights in Purgatory.

Nicole doesn’t look up, but she smiles, a pattern Waverly is getting used to. At first, it felt like Nicole didn’t care with her unwillingness to offer so much as a glance, but Waverly has since learned it to be an invitation.

She situates herself on the opposite end of the couch with a furry pillow cushioning her back and folds her legs in front of her. Still not a word from her redheaded counterpart, who is also leaning comfortable back on one of Waverly’s pillows. She swallows down her satisfaction and opens her book.

The cover makes a slick suction noise when peeled back from the first few pages. They’ll forever be warped once dry. She adjusts herself so that the book balances on her knees mirroring Nicole and she reads the first line.

I have never given much thought to how I would die—though I’d had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

It’s distracting the way Nicole stares at her as her eyes scan through the first page of Twilight. She takes a deep breath and remembers how that stare pushed her back in her seat at Eden’s. Another thing Waverly has learned about Nicole, sometimes her eyes are dark and brooding, something like an animal, studying her for any sign of weakness, and calculating how to take her down. Then there are the other times, when they’re soft puppy dog like, kind, aiming to please, but she never knows which eyes she’ll be looking into when they meet her own.

She lets out her breath, slow and steady, trying not to show her nerves before she lifts her gaze. Nicole’s eyes are soft, but still calculating. They pry into Waverly’s thoughts as if to read them. A ghost of a smile tilts the corners of her lips and it sparkles in her eyes triumphantly, all-knowing.

If she concentrates, Waverly can see herself reflecting back. She squints because maybe if she tries really hard, she can see what Nicole sees, but Nicole catches on and looks away quickly back to her book. Those eyes hold secrets that she’s not willing to share. Nicole is not so easily cracked.

Waverly lingers on her a moment more until Nicole’s eyes start to move back and forth across the page in front of her, then she returns to her own.

I stared without breathing across the room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Her mind begins to wander back to last night—the porch light flickering off and the car driving away. She’s sure it came from right outside the front door. Nicole must have thought so too. She looked. She looked and she was half naked, shirtless eating Skittles. It was obvious that she had been doing more than tasting the rainbow.

It will nag at Waverly if she doesn’t confront her. Her curiosity will roll around in her brain creating all sorts of crazy scenarios and eat away at her until she’s mad bound for the looney bin with mama. That’s it. She’ll do it. She’ll insist Nicole tell her the truth. They’re married, she has every right to know who her wife is sleeping with…right?

“Did you have a girl here last night?” She blurts.

Nicole sighs expectantly and lowers her book. “Waverly, this is Nicole time. You can’t come interrupting me every night with your judgments.”

She sits up and reaches for a blue and yellow blown glass pipe and digs out a lighter out of the couch cushion. Waverly watches how she holds the pipe to her lips and flicks the lighter singeing the top layer of green to black.

She sucks in and holds. “I did what I did.” Then her lungs empty in a slow controlled stream of wispy white musk and dissipate in the air in front of her. Nicole settles in the couch with a look of bliss. Waverly hates it.

She’s never been a fan. The one time she tried it, she about coughed up a lung and Wynonna laughed at her for a good 10 minutes before ordering more pizza. Never again she swore. It isn’t for her.

She waves her hand in front of her wafting away as much as she can while Nicole smiles lazily back at her. “Nicole, you can’t just have random chicks here all the time.”

“It’s been one time and she wasn’t random.”

“We are married.” Waverly reminds.

Nicole holds out the pipe to Waverly. She shakes her head. “Ew no.”

“Do you ever do anything fun? Or is running around barking orders what gets you off?”

“I have fun all the time.”

“Yeah, doing what? Gossiping about whose fucking who with your little gal pals at Eden’s?” She takes the pipe back to her lips and pauses. “Look, I’m not going a year without having sex, so unless you’re going to start putting out then I gotta do what I gotta do.”

A tremor of excitement runs down her body at the invitation. She’d never do it of course. The thought of it is both repulsive and enraging, but still, it's intriguing. You better check yourself before you wreck yourself, Earp. “Like I would ever have sex with you. You’re probably riddled with diseases.”

Nicole snorts. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What is that supposed to me?”

“Please Waverly, we both know I am not the only one who has left Ice-Nine with some hot chick or…” Disgust wrinkles her face and she practically spits the word out. “Dude…and I am sure Chump has plenty of his own diseases, which means you are full of them too.”

“Champ and I have dated…off and on. That’s different, and I am not leaving Ice-Nine with strangers all the time…” It’s only half a lie. She’s done it. More than once, but she doubts she gets the same satisfaction out of it as Nicole. Sometimes she just doesn’t want to be alone and that’s a quicker fix than Champ or waiting for someone worthwhile to come along. She’s leaving anyway. It would be pointless to go searching for love in Purgatory. So that it is her solution.

Nicole sets aside the pipe and tosses the lighter to the coffee table. It skids across and teeters on the edge. She blows out one last heap of smoky crap and coughs. “Stop acting like you’re better than me because you’re not. We are the same.”

“We are not the same…you-you use woman.”

“And you use Champ…And don’t lie and say you actually give a damn about him. You don’t and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you either. It is what is and ain’t a big deal.”

“I’m not like you.” Waverly kicks out her legs across the couch and protests. Anybody can see how vastly different she is from Nicole. Nicole is a problem child turned adult-baby. Waverly is a grown woman with standards and ambition. “You are-“

“I’m what?” She leans forward capturing Waverly with those chocolate eyes and a big grin on her face, she nods to the book in Waverly's hand. “Just say it, Waverly. Out loud.”

Waverly's too mesmerized to fight back much more and the words she's been holding back roll out of her mouth. “You’re a player.”

“And you are a tease.” She smiles and taps Waverly on the forehead with her book playfully. Waverly blinks up at her when she stands and walks away. A more defensive answer would make more sense.

“You’re confusing!”

She just smiles again. “Goodnight wifey.”

***

Her sheets are soaked through this time but as soon as she rips the covers off, she shivers violently. She’s been through this before so why she is so anxious to run? The storm shoots off a chain of lightning followed by a godly boom. It rattles the house and Waverly’s chest.

It happens again, like an earthquake under the floorboards and the creepy silhouettes of trees plaster to the walls backed by flashes of lightning. It’s like a funhouse with moving pieces jumping out her and loud startling noises around every corner.

“I can’t do it.” She flies from the bed, rips open her door, and makes a beeline to Nicole’s door. Out of the darkness comes a figure. Waverly rears up but can’t stop in time to avoid it. She smacks face first into Nicole’s naked chest.

“oof.” Nicole stumbles back into the doorway and catches herself on the frame. Waverly squeals and jumps back nearly landing on her ass again.

“Why are you always half naked?”

“Why are you always screaming?”

It booms again in the hall and in her chest. She jumps, eyes wide. “Thunder!”

“It’s 3 am Waverly. We both have to up in 3 hours for work. Figure out how to be an adult and deal with the thunder like the rest of us.”

Waverly sinks. She looks over her shoulder down the endless dark hallway at the outline of her door and shakes her head. It’s too late. She’s all riled up now and there’s no going back.

Nicole sighs. “Fine, but I’m not putting on a shirt.”

Relieved Waverly scurries into Nicole’s room. “Put on a shirt.” She insists as she passes Nicole and climbs into her bed. The sheets smell like fresh laundry and look untainted by anyone but Nicole, at least that’s what she tells herself before she hunkers down and her face hits the pillow.

“Fine!”

Nicole climbs in next to her wearing a cut off tank top. This one with a crazy little stick figure holding up his hands under Pearl Jam. Nicole rolls her back to Waverly and fluffs her pillow just as she did before. A little bit disappointed Waverly snuggles so close to Nicole’s back that Pearl Jam is practically up her nose when she takes in a breath. The thunder clatters angrily and Waverly fists Nicole’s tank top and accidentally claws at the naked skin on Nicole’s side. “Claws Waverly, retract the claws!”

“It’s just a reaction. I can’t help it.”

Nicole grumbles and rolls over pushing Waverly by her shoulders at the same time. She wraps her arm around Waverly’s waist, bends their knees to fit like a puzzle, and holds Waverly snug against her body.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

It’s vanilla dipped tank tops, red hair, deep secretive eyes, and a smile that sends her down a water slide and splashes her in the face with cold water. It’s Nicole. It’s Nicole that shelters her from thunder, shields her from lightning, and wraps her up in the sweetest way.

And next to her, Waverly’s eyes droop almost immediately after waking from a nightmare.

***

There’s that familiar ding at the front door announcing it’s 8:05 am. Waverly doesn’t have to look up to know those are Nicole’s Tim’s smacking the laminate with undeniable swagger. Like a tambourine her keys jingle from the carabineer clipped to her belt loop until she pauses at the counter, then silence.

“Welcome to Eden’s what can I get started for you?” Stephanie recites fully aware of what Nicole wants, but it’s Eden’s policy to ask every guest, even the regulars.

“Where’s Waverly?” Nicole dismisses.

Stephanie sighs out of inconvenience and turns her focus to Waverly squatting down behind the counter. Gus has her doing inventory and there seems to be a shortage of paper coffee sleeves. Go figure. After waking up in Nicole’s bed swaddled in her arms, she feels like hiding and not talking to Nicole for the rest of the day. It was weird and she shouldn’t have done it. She was sleeping with the enemy but actually sleeping.

But it looks like she won’t be avoiding Nicole today. Two big brown eyes and a lock of red wavy hair reflects in the stainless steel counter. She freezes on her heels and tilts her head back to look at the real thing. Nicole examines her curiously. “Waverly?”

“Hey.” She breaths with a little too much enthusiasm and nods to the small cardboard box under Nicole’s arm. “Is that a package?” Of course, it’s a package, anyone with eyes can see that Waverly.

“No. I’m not doing delivery’s today.” Nicole lifts her arm acknowledging the box. “I am doing payroll.”

“Oh.” Waverly nods slowly. It never occurred to her that Nicole might have employees. She always assumed it was a solo mission. Purgatory’s small, how many bike messengers does it really need?

“My daddy hires someone for that,” Stephanie adds twirling her hair around her finger. Her daddy, Mr. Jones attorney of law, belongs to one of the wealthier families in Purgatory. He’s not a Gardner but he drives a Lexus RX 350 so he’s doing pretty well. He enjoys the finer things in life, but he still believes in hard work.

Stephanie is expected to put in her due diligence. As long as she works hard, she gets anything she wants. Including college tuition, which strikes a few nerves with Waverly. It must be nice to have it so easy.

“I didn’t do 4 years of business school to pay someone else to do my job.” Nicole snarls.

Stephanie shrugs and returns to twirling her hair.

The working hard part doesn’t come naturally to her. Twirling her hair is one of her biggest contributions. She’ll man the register, but cleaning is not her forte and she often has an excuse for getting out of it. She’s a terrible closing partner.

Waverly stands, her legs have had enough of that squatted position.

Nicole’s in her skinny jeans, a black V-neck t-shirt, and her leather jacket, so her everyday work attire. She has her fingerless gloves on, and a messenger bag still slung across her body sawing into her neck. Waverly struggles to find anything relevant to say. It’s like after two nights of Nicole cuddles her brain no longer functions. So she kicks into bossy mode, a quality she picked up from Aunt Gus.

“Why don’t you wear a helmet? That’s really dangerous.”

“You’re going to make a really good mom someday with all that nagging.”

“It’s true. Helmets save lives.” She once read in the Purgatory Chronical that in 97% of fatal bike accidents the cyclist wasn’t wearing a helmet. Now there’s not a lot of traffic in Purgatory accept on Main Street, the busiest street in town. Bikers, pedestrians, and cars get hit there all the time.

Coincidently Waverly knows for a fact Main Street is part of Nicole’s route. She didn’t mean to follow Nicole that one time, they just so happened to be going to the same place, which is what she tried to explain after Nicole called her a stalker outside of the courthouse.

“You’re not my mother Waverly,” Nicole says with a heated glare. “Look, I have an assload of work to do and I don’t want to stand here all day getting safety lectures from you. Just my usual.”

How about she gives Nicole a taste of her own medicine. She wants to be an ass; well Waverly can be an ass too. “Terrible news, we’re out of lemon scones.”

“What?” That shuts her ass up. Nicole can’t live without her scone fix and they both know it. There’s a fresh batch on the counter only two feet away, Nicole could see it if she paid a lick of attention to anything other than herself. But she doesn’t. She just stares at Waverly like Waverly kicked her puppy. And maybe Waverly did.

“Yep, they never came in shipment.” She shrugs.

Nicole’s hand tightens on the strap of her bag and she tugs it roughly across her neck.

She frowns helplessly. “But I have to do payroll.”

“Well,” Waverly points to the display case housing a variety of other fresh pastries. “We have these nice ones with a chocolate drizzle.”

Nicole hangs her head in defeat. The box sags under her arm. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” She says soft and childlike. She leans her elbows on the counter and runs her fingers through her hair messing it up and groaning in the most dramatic display of disappointment Waverly has ever seen over a scone.

This isn’t like Nicole. It’s not something Waverly ever expected to see. Nicole throws tantrums all the time, but to be damn near in tears because they’re out of lemon scones? Ludacris.

Waverly might have broken her. A small giggle comes out with her words at the ridiculousness of it. “Are you going to cry?”

“My whole day is thrown of Waverly. I have a routine.”

Having tortured Nicole enough Waverly waltzes past Stephanie now daydreaming out the front door and selects the biggest scone off the tray. It’s always the biggest she purposely sets aside for Nicole. Somewhere over the year, she adopted that habit. She bags up the fresh scone still warm and everything and waltzes back to Nicole pouting on the counter.

“Are you going to grab your Monster?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs.

“So just the scone then?”

“Waverly, you know I am allergic.”

“Hmm. Too bad. This one smells extra zesty. I can almost taste the lemon.”

Nicole’s eyes snap to the scone in Waverly’s hand and a smile dashes across her face, but she catches herself and tucks it away with her hair behind her ear. There’s the Nicole Waverly knows all bundled up in her coat of steel. God forbid she looks happy in public.

“You’re a dick” She chuckles.

“It takes one to know one.”

Nicole takes her scone and Monster to her same table in the back corner, sloughs off her jacket, sits, and starts removing papers from her box.

Curiosity sparks. Who works for Nicole? How many? Suddenly Waverly's brain floods with questions about the day in the life of a bike messenger. She tosses her apron in the supply closet and walks around the counter. “I’m taking a break.”

“Whatever.” Stephanie says.

A smile peaks at her lips as Waverly approaches. She doesn’t look up, but she kicks out the chair opposite to her for Waverly to sit.

“So, you have employees?” Waverly asks as she situates herself on the chair and scoots in close with her elbows propped up on the table. Nicole doesn’t respond. The pen in her hand scratches across a paper log and Nicole punches in some numbers into a calculator. “How many?” Waverly pries further.

“I’m working Waverly.” She slides her finger ¾ of the way down her Monster without looking expecting Waverly to understand.

“Yeah, yeah, not human.”

She pouts and thrums her fingers on the table watching Nicole working diligently. Nicole picks up her Monster and Waverly sees an opportunity. She snatches the log and holds it out of reach while she reads.

“Waverly stop! There’s personal information on that.”

Waverly ignores her and scrolls her finger down the log. She snorts. “Perry Croft is a bike messenger?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No…" She shrugs and keeps reading. "Carl? Like stupid Carl?”

“He’s not stupid.” Nicole learns over the table and swipes at the log but Waverly pulls it back just out of reach. The last name she recognizes but she doesn’t know them. Kevin. “Kevin?”

Nicole rips the log from her fingers and slaps it down on the table. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Hot mess Kevin? The Kevin Nicole was or is dating? Was that who was at the house the other night? Kevin?

***

“Please come in.” This is not what Waverly imagined a Psychologist’s office to look like. It is too macabre for her taste with long red velvet curtains and a bearskin rug. Over the top candelabra and solid oak desk.

Dr. Svane directs them to an ivory white leather couch that looks about as inviting as an operating table. It squeaks as she situates herself on it trying to determine what’s the most comfortable way to sit on a couch like this. Nicole gives her a look of shared confusion. This must be what Hollywood therapy looks like.

Dr. Svane sits opposite them in a rich brown leather accent chair with gaudy gold rivets up the front of the arms and along the back seam. He seems normal in appearance, dressed in brown slacks and a matching vest. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows and he has a flashy gold Rolex snug against his wrist. He adjusts his glasses on his face and smiles.

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys. Robin has given me your files to review. Very interesting.”

“What files?” Nicole questions. Waverly doesn’t recall any files that Dr. Svane would have any interest in, yet the way he looks at them, analyzing like he knows everything about them already.

“Oh, don’t fret Nicole. Nothing to be alarmed about.” His smile is cryptic, and his tone reminds Waverly of Robins that first-day signing contracts. Robin’s nervous little chuckle suggested there might be something more mischievous going on in therapy. What games does Dr. Svane want to play? “Let’s start by checking in. How are we feeling thus far in our journey?”

“Our?”

“Yes, Nicole. How are you feeling?”

The back wall is made up of white built-in bookcases. Most of the books look old, Mary Shelley old, with frayed spines and faded covers. None of the titles are readable from where Waverly sits. Her eyes wander over to the oak desk by the window. He’s old fashion. No computer. A gold pen stands erect in its holder next to another stack of books. Waverly reads the cover of the top book. The cover curls back from use and sticky notes poke out like quills.

The Primal Scream, Arthur Janov.

“Waverly’s ruining the house.”

Waverly snaps her attention back to Nicole. “What?”

“Yeah. She’s rifling through the trash and making little piles. She skinned the blue guy from Monsters ink and put him on my couch. She wakes me up screaming at 3 am and tears her way into my bed…oh and she barges in on me in the shower.”

“That was one time!” Waverly argues. Although there’s no sense in arguing with a sociopath.

“Okay okay. Let’s slow down. Everyone take a deep breath.” A pause. He inhales and looks at the two of them expectantly. Nicole rolls her eyes in the most dramatic way and takes a breath as asked.

“Waverly how about you?”

She pauses to think. “Nicole uses up all the hot water…like all the water in general. I’m surprised that Purgatory hasn’t called and asked for it back. And she’s a big bratty baby whenever she is asked to do anything…”

“Bullshit!”

Dr. Svane sits up wide-eyed in his chair and holds up his hands halting anything further from coming out of their mouths. “How about we try something else. If you would turn to face each other.” He gives them another expecting look and encourages them with a flick of his hand just like Shelly. “Go ahead.”

“Now take each other’s hands and close your eyes. Let’s all take another deep breath. In through the nose out through the mouth. One more time. In through the nose out through the mouth.” Great now she's forgotten how to breathe and her head is all spinny.

“Good. Keeping your eyes closed Nicole tell me the thing you are struggling with most now that you are married. Just one thing. No explanation just a one or two words.”

“Waverly’s fucking bossy.”

Waverly scoffs. She knows she is, but Nicole needs a good bossing around. Someone’s got to put this girl in her place. Waverly’s not going to live with an inconsiderate wild thing for a year.

“Waverly. What’s your biggest struggle with Nicole?”

“She’s purposefully an asshole.”

“I am—”

“Waverly is speaking right now Nicole. Okay, Waverly tell me one thing you like about Nicole. It can be anything.”

“She can fix things,” She cuddles. “That’s cool I guess.”

“Beautiful. And you Nicole. Can you tell Waverly one thing you like about her?”

“She’s fucking bossy.”

“But that—”

“It’s Nicole’s turn, Waverly, what I am hearing Nicole is that you are struggling with Waverly’s ‘bossy’ behavior as you put it, yet that behavior is also something you appreciate about her? Am I hearing you correctly?”

“Yup.”

“I see.” He lets out a heavy understanding breath. “Open your eyes now but I want you to look at each other. Really look at each other. Nicole what is the biggest thing you need from Waverly to remain happy in your nuptials.”

Nicole tucks her hair behind her ear and puffs out her chest. “If you want to snuggle up to me in bed, then do it. You don’t need to scream through the house and make a running start jump into my side with your boney little knees…and if you want to shower with me, help yourself, but don’t judge my Tootsie Pop…lastly you’re in charge of recycling.”

“Dear god this is ridiculous!”

“Waverly…” Dr. Svane warns.

“What I am supposed to even say to that?” Nicole loves conflict. Waverly can see it in the way her tongue flicks over her lower lip and the way she looks back and forth with chaos brimming in her eyes. She’s like a mad scientist conducting some crazy social experiment to see how many ways she can push Waverly’s buttons. Or is that Dr. Svane. They’re both nuts.

“Waverly, it sounds like Nicole is feeling judged and invaded. Is that right Nicole?”

“Uh...yeah that.”

“Listen up Looney Toons! I am not trying to sleep with you or shower with you or do anything in between. I am just trying to survive!”

“What about my Tootsie Pop?”

“What about it?”

“Just admit that you judge my food.”

“Fine! I do. You have the diet of a thirteen your old and I don’t know how you’re even alive living on high fructose corn syrup and red die #40. Like seriously. Haven’t you heard of a vegetable?”

“I ate a banana the other day”

“If it came out of a package of Runts it doesn’t count and bananas aren’t vegetable, doofus.”

A smile slowly appears across Nicole’s face softening the intensity of those eyes. Her anger melts away into a puppy like state. She chuckles.

Waverly blinks. “What?”

“Nothing.” She smirks. “It’s funny.”

It’s always funny. Then it clicks. That’s exactly what it is for Nicole, funny, like a little game. She's playing. It’s fun for her to get a rise out of Waverly, get her all worked up. Nicole likes it when Waverly plays too, even if Waverly doesn’t realize they’re playing. She likes the attention good or bad.

“You’re a freak.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“You’re a child.”

“I kn—”

“No.” Waverly pinches her lips together cutting her off. "More."

“Okay then.” They both startle and turn to Dr. Svane. “I think that’s enough for the day.”

***

Waverly once again finds herself flying down the hall like a bat out of hell holding in a scream the best she can. She tries to be quiet in her burst through the door and leap to the bed

This time when her knees hit the mattress Nicole wraps her arm around Waverly’s waist and pulls her under the blankets snug against her body with ease. Not a single complaint.

And it’s enough. Waverly's asleep before another sound escapes the angry giant storming through the neighborhood. Off to fantasy land.

Chapter Text

CHAMP: Hey

Hey? How many times does she have to say no before it finally gets through his thick skull? 

WAVERLY: I told you it’s over…

She blocked his number. Then unblocked it, then blocked it again, and so on. It shouldn’t be so hard to cut him off, but it is. There must be some truth to the saying, ‘old habits die hard’. She wishes this habit would just die already. 

CHAMP: I miss you.

She flops back on her bed, arms extended with the phone held above her face. I miss parts of you, is what he means. He misses how easy she is. How convenient she is. When nobody wants him, she’s there. She folds for him like putty, because if he doesn’t want her, then who will? 

WAVERLY: He messaged again. 

CHRISSY: I thought you blocked him??

WAVERLY: I did…then I undid it.

CHRISSY: *&(#*$@

CHRISSY: This is me smacking you upside the head! 

Having something is better than nothing, right? Being alone is scary. Though she knows that’s exactly what she’ll be when she leaves Purgatory. Alone. But if that’s what it takes to get rid of him, then so be it. She’ll leave him then. He won’t follow her, and she won’t ask him to. End of story.

The phone slips from her grip. Her eyes squint up just as it smacks her in the mouth, teeth nicking her lower lip, copper spreading across her tongue. “Yup, I deserved that.” She flicks her tongue over the sting as a lone tear trails down her temple and disappears into her hair. 

She regains control of her phone and swipes away Champ’s messages, but he’s relentless. He doesn’t stop. It wears her out until she gives in, and once she sees him, it’s over. He’s a magician with his words. All baby cheeks and bright blue eyes, false flattery and vague promises, and Waverly’s a glutton for it. 

She tosses her phone aside with a heavy sigh and sprawls out on the mattress. Champ’s not the only bad decision she’s been making. She still sneaks into Nicole’s bed most nights. Storm or no storm, this house is creepy with all its creaking and the phantom whispers coming from the foyer alerting every hair on her body. Sometimes she just can’t sleep without Nicole’s warmth pressed up against her back, and Nicole’s arm wrapped snug around her waist keeping her safe. A new habit.

She should be more worried about it. It’s weird right? They get along half the time during the day, and the other half Nicole behaves like a spoiled rotten, environmentally unfriendly toddler who smokes everything. It’s enough to drive Waverly to drink. 

At night though, they are something else. They’re in sync. They fit together like they were made to, but they don’t talk about it. Talking about it would only shatter the illusion, because at night Nicole is sweet and Waverly’s accepting, but anything after that is unpredictable.

***

Waverly plods down the stairs and is immediately hit with a smoky essence at the landing. It creeps into the back of her throat and stirs up trouble in her chest. She coughs to soothe it. 

She glances back at the living room to see no one there. 

Nicole went through the house and tossed everything PGE sprinkled around into a Hefty bag,  then set it on the curb for Tuesday’s trash pickup. 

Gone is the handmade quilt tossed over the back of the couch, and the fake flowers in the purple ceramic vase. Sayonara to the little souvenir collection alluding to an adventurous and romantic life together, but her candlesticks are still on the coffee table. Nicole even let Waverly stand her wooden angel wings on the mantel above the fireplace, and said nothing when she added a string of twinkling lights. 

Waverly’s pillows are still there pressed up against the arm rests, where they read. 

They made a habit of it. Lounging there, mirroring each other, book in hand. Sometimes their legs touch on the sides when they stretch them out, lost in their own stories. Nicole flinched the first couple of times it happened and now, sometimes she smiles. Sometimes she moves over to make more room, and sometimes, Waverly’s sure she moves a little closer. 

That part could be in her head. 

Waverly’s not allowed to talk, because it’s ‘Nicole time’, but she can usually get away with a couple of sentences before Nicole says something condescending and disappears to her room.

The porch light is on and only the screen door separates the foyer from the cool spring night. She goes to the door and leans up against it peeking through the thin dusty mesh window. Her hand lightly rests on the handle. 

On the porch Nicole has a cigarette pinched between her fingers, and sighs. The expelled smoke contrasts against the deep blue of the night sky and is drawn towards the one working porch light. It flickers every so often and always has at least one tiny moth circling it. 

The handle twists in Waverly’s grip and the dry rusty springs cry out as she pushes through. The door clatters shut behind her. A bit of a chill ripples up her arms and legs, spreading goosebumps across her skin. She rubs her hands up and down her bare arms. 

Nicole doesn’t seem to have the same problem in her cut off tank top. This one has a big yellow smiley with its x’d out eyes, and Nirvana printed across the top. No modesty either, this girl. She’s wearing Tomboy boxer briefs, black with 3 little buttons up the center, and no shorts. Waverly shivers for other reasons now.

The smoke clouds around her head and the pestering little moth dances through nicotine and moon light while Nicole gazes down at her phone. The cigarette’s wedged between her fingers as she taps them over the screen with concentration creasing her forehead.

Waverly hugs herself to keep warm, but her teeth chatter anyway. “What are you doing?” 

“Playing Candy Crush.” Nicole says dismissively to her phone. 

She stays quiet, tapping away at her phone screen. Waverly takes the silence as an opportunity to admire the shadows cast by the LCD screen digging lines into Nicole’s biceps and strong shoulders, perfect curves, presumably from working on Nicole’s long list—building chandeliers and patching roofs. 

Nicole notices. She always does. With a self-assured smirk on her face she shifts her back to Waverly with her hip leaning against the railing and continues her game, holding the phone closer now while the cigarette dwindles away. Waverly ogles there too, at Nicole’s ass, shaped in those boxer briefs in a way that has her sweating and her feet carrying her forward. 

She stops herself. She doesn’t get her fascination with Nicole…Nicole’s body, or why her own shivers with electricity when Nicole shows off a little too much. She can’t explain the way her pulse quickens each time Nicole licks her lips or tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.  

Her eyes break away long enough to catch Nicole’s usual sugary companion, a full bag of Tootsie Pops resting on the railing. A smile spreads over her face.

“Are you actually allergic to chocolate?”

Nicole pauses and glances over her shoulder. The cigarette’s pulled between her lips again, lighting the end cherry bright. “What, you think I’m lying?” she says as she exhales. 

Waverly shrugs. “I mean, is that even a real thing?”

“ Dear god man how can you live without chocolate? ” She nods and takes the few steps to the table between the two chairs. She flicks the cigarette against the ashtray there. “That’s what people always say when I tell ‘em, but I can live without things that want to kill me.”

“Says the woman smoking on her front porch.”

“You have to pick your battles, sweetheart.” Nicole smiles and lifts the cigarette to her lips. Waverly strides over and gently stops her with one hand, and plucks the cigarette away with the other. It crinkles and smokes when she jabs it into the ashtray and smothers it out. 

“Hey, I was using that.” Nicole whines.

“You don’t need it.” 

Nicole’s eyes sink to the half empty pack of Marlboro Reds next to the ashtray and the weak wisp of smoke curling out to her, but her hand stays where Waverly left it. Her voice comes out soft, in almost a whisper. “What if I do?” 

“You don’t.” Waverly reassures. Nicole gazes back at her and licks her lips with calculating eyes. If they weren’t so dark Waverly’s sure she could see that tiny little freckle trapped in there keeping secrets. She tucks her hair behind her ear and shuffles back to the railing where she leans casually against it, phone staring back at her. 

Calamity Jane chatters from the chair furthest away from Waverly. Tiny little feet tucked under a large fluffy body and two gold coin eyes glow at Waverly daring her to argue. Thick tufts of hair have been plucked from her sides giving her a lumpy potato shape. “Nicole what’s wrong with Calamity’s hair?”

“Oh that. She just overgrooms. It’s not a big deal,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand, and keeps her focus on Candy Crush.

“She looks like she has her own allergies. She must be itchy.” Waverly says. Her eyes itch out of sympathy. She’s been popping Benadryl like Tic Tacs. She’s one smoke-clouded fluffball away from an IV and just taking that shit intravenously.  

“Nah, she’s just contouring is all. Trying to look thinner for Beyoncé.”

“Beyoncé?”

“Bunny Loblaw’s cat.” Nicole snorts.

Waverly giggles in disbelief. “Bunny Loblaw named her cat Beyoncé?” 

Nicole glances up, sets her phone on the railing next to the bag of Tootsie Pops, and smiles. “No. I did,” she says with a satisfied grin. A cough rattles out of her chest. After she clears her throat, she says, “That Beyoncé is a naughty girl. Coming over here, rubbing herself all over Calamity’s things, flaunting her body like she’s hot stuff. Poor girl can’t help herself. You know what I mean?” She winks and digs around in the bag of Tootsie Pops until she comes out with grape. 

Waverly watches her unwrap it carefully and let the wrapper coast to the ground, where it flutters a little against the door to the screened in porch. 

Patiently she waits for Nicole to pop it in her mouth and twist it, wetting it with her tongue and her lips. It doesn't have the same effect as the brain-melting shower show, but Waverly’s body still pulses with want. Focus Earp . She swallows. Her mouth’s too dry. She hesitates, but she knows it will be so satisfying.

With a slow and controlled breath, she says, “You know Tootsie Pops are chocolate…don’t you?”

Nicole freezes with the Tootsie Pop half touching her tongue. She frowns and holds it out to inspect. Her lips smack together. 

Waverly smiles and strides back into the house.

***

She settles into the shower with the streaming water soaking into her skin and massaging over her muscles with just the right pressure. She sighs into relaxation. Finally, a shower that’s not half cold. She takes a moment to let the water wash over her, warming her body, her bones, and relieving some of the tension she packs around with her.  

So far, she hasn’t been stalked by an endless parade of cameras, like Robin promised. They linger here and there, around the corners, across the street from Eden’s, the post office, but usually it’s just greasy Derek. 

When they are around Nicole is quick to lace their fingers, or smile against Waverly’s cheek and seal it with a kiss. Waverly could almost believe it herself if she didn’t know any better. If she didn’t know how Nicole plays, how easily she pretends, slipping in and out of roles, and Waverly knows she better not forget it. 

At this moment they're no cameras. No Nicole. Just her and the water saturating her hair, and the perfect blend of lavender and sage. It will cling to her skin all day. She continues her sudsy massage lathering the slippery little bar between the palms of her hands, over her skin, and allows her mind to wander off. 

She finds herself kneeling on Nicole’s bed, peering down at her. The side of Nicole’s naked breast is visible through the cut-off sleeve of her tee. Waverly hooks her fingers under the hemline and tugs it halfway up Nicole’s stomach, exposing her lower ribs, and pauses in that spot just before Nicole’s body curves into something supple and soft, like satin. She sucks in her lower lip and catches it between her teeth. 

The soap is abandoned on the shelf before she closes her eyes. 

Nicole smiles sleepily and guides Waverly’s hand higher under her tank top. Waverly’s other hand slips sinfully lower through lavender and sage. She admires the way Nicole’s breast molds to the palm of her hand and flexes under her fingers, its resilient bounce. It easily returns to its full shape when she releases it for the other, equally mesmerizing.

The shower flow makes hot wet trails over her body, boiling her blood, pumping it through her veins faster and harder. She can feel it pulsing in her thighs while she uses them to pin Nicole’s hips to the mattress. Her own touch circles that sensitive spot to its rhythm.

She imagines Nicole’s hand there too, wedged between their bodies. The heel of Nicole’s palm grinding against her sex while her fingers circle faster, straining her wrist, weakening her knees, and her heart startles in her throat. She forgets to breathe. Her head starts to spin. Her free hand presses against the cool grey tiles, her forehead follows, grounding her, keeping her on her feet. She’s close. Toes curling, she bites back a fleeting moan as she approaches the edge, and…   

“Do you know how long you’ve been in here?” 

She jolts. Her hand slips from the tile and sends the soap shooting off the shelf. At least something got off . She deflates like a balloon and her breath comes out heavy and dramatic. 

“It’s been like 35 seconds.” Nicole teases. 

She peeks around the curtain at Nicole digging for her toothbrush around the sink and turning on the faucet. She squeezes Waverly’s toothpaste from the middle until an unnecessarily large dab smears across the bristles, and briefly runs it under the faucet. 

“Get out! I am—”

“Naked?” Nicole shoves the toothbrush in her mouth and waggles her eyebrows. “I’m aware.” 

“Well get out then!”

“I thought we were past this,” she says. Her mouth starts to fill with minty foam. A little dribbles down her chin. She wipes it away with the back of her hand. “I mean, you barged in on my shower.” 

“That was different. I had to pee. It was an emergency.” 

Nicole just stares while her toothbrush maintains a thorough rhythm. “Mmmm.” She nods. “Totally.” She spits in the sink, scoops water into her hand, swishes it around in her mouth, and spits again. “You know, I am getting the impression that all of your little rules only apply to me.” She wipes her mouth on the hand towel and extracts an Old Spice deodorant stick from the mirror cabinet. “Well I’ve got news for you sweetheart…” 

It nags at her, the throbbing between Waverly’s legs. She can almost hear it begging… fuck me . She’s just so…unsatisfied, and Nicole’s here with her big brown eyes and her side boob taunting Waverly, while she applies her deodorant. 

Waverly’s sure she is sweating now, or is it just the steam? She’s so flippin’ hot and her chest is rising and falling too fast in this humidity. Maybe Nicole won’t notice the way her hand is twitching over her hip bone. She could just close her eyes and pretend that naked Nicole is here to fulfill her hot, wet and wild fantasy. Is that weird? That’s totally weird, Waverly, don’t.   

“Hello? Earth to Waverly?” 

The temptation fades away. Waverly’s eyes regain focus on a blurry, but not so naked Nicole. She drops her hand and releases the shower curtain. It’s once again in danger of ripping from its rings. 

“Come on. That’s just rude.” 

“W-what?” She stammers through the feeling Nicole can hear her every thought, her shameful fantasies, her shower full of lusty lies. She’s just being paranoid, but it doesn’t help when the corners of Nicole’s mouth turn up into a cocky all-knowing grin. Nicole might not be able to read Waverly’s thoughts, but she can still read Waverly as easily as she can read one of her murder books. 

“Stop looking at me!” Waverly screams. “Get out! Now!” She yanks the curtain shut. Hard enough for one of its metal rings to finally bend and fall to the floor. 

“Jesus Waverly! You’re real unpleasant in the morning, you know that?” Nicole flushes the toilet and zips out the door. The cold splash of water smacks Waverly in the gut and takes her breath away. 

“Shit!” She hisses and pounds her hand against the shower knob cutting off the water flow. “Why didn’t that work when I did it?” 

***

This song has always haunted her. Whenever it comes on it gives her that raw gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something about the way Eddie Vedder’s voice quivers when he sings it makes it feel personal. 

Nicole’s got the perfect voice to sing along. Her own quivering vibrato fills the kitchen and seeps out into Waverly’s ears. It’s eerily beautiful. Until it’s all drowned out by the aggressive metal grinding of the blender. 

Waverly spots her first through the opening in the wall before she swings around the column into the kitchen. Nicole removes the lid off the blender and drops it to the counter. The remnants of ice cream rapidly dribbles onto the granite. 

Waverly switches off the radio and Nicole glances over her shoulders licking her fingertips. “Oh hey.”

“Ice cream for breakfast? No scone?”

She selects a spoon from the silverware drawer and shuts it with her hip. The ice cream is a lumpy watery mess, but Nicole stirs it, then licks the spoon and tosses it aside for a container of purple Kool-Aid. “I am making a smoothie. I’m trying to be healthier for…you…or like, whatever,” she says unscrewing the lid. Grape powder puffs in the air above the container. One of the many grape things Waverly has involuntarily ingested since living here.  

“A Kool-Aid milk shake is not exactly what I would call healthy.” 

“Well I guess there’s no pleasing you, is there?” She scoops a heap of Kool-Aid and sprinkles it into the sloppy ice cream, saturating vanilla white to milky grape.

Waverly takes a deep breath and lets it out with an eye roll. She marches over and snatches the blender from Nicole’s grasp. “Please. You can’t really be this ridiculous, can you?” 

The ice cream drops like sludge into the sink and Waverly rinses it out twice, ridding it of the nasty lavender concoction. 

“Waverly, be careful, the garbage disposal doesn’t work…it’s on my list.” 

Waverly ignores her. 

She reattaches the clean blender to the base and moves past Nicole to the fridge. It groans and hisses, once open. Luckily for her she just prepped all her fruits and veggies yesterday. She loads her arms and displays her perfectly cut up fruits and veggies on the counter, each separated into their own glass container. Everything’s green just like all those health magazines says they should be. The darker the better.

“Ick, what are you doing?” 

She tosses in some spinach, kale, green apple, and avocado. There’s a little bit of white grape juice left in the fridge, she grabs it and shakes in front of Nicole. “Grape.” Then ice.

“Purple tastes better.” 

“Purple is a color, not a flavor. And green is better for you.” 

“I have the gut of a shark. I don’t need healthy greenness unless—” 

Waverly cuts her off with the blender, satisfied when all the different shades of green blend into one super fruit smoothie. She dips her finger in and scoops out a drop to taste test. It’s perfect. She fills up a mason jar and hands it to Nicole. 

“There you go. Super healthy.” Nicole examines skeptically, but tries it. 

She smacks her lips together. “It tastes like hay.” 

Waverly changes the subject. “Why didn’t the shower get cold when I did it?” 

Nicole laughs. “What?”

“When I ‘barged in’ on you , I flushed the toilet just to see…and nothing. Why didn’t it work?” 

Nicole laughs again. “Who said it didn’t?”

***

Nicole swings a leg over the bike and pauses with one foot resting on the raised pedal while she adjusts her gloves with her teeth. 

“Nicole, wait!” Waverly calls after. Her bare feet smack the paved walkway. “Here, I got you something.”

She holds out the black-painted polycarbonate plastic proudly. It wasn’t cheap, but the salesman assured her it is the safest. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s a helmet…to protect whatever brains you have under all that red hair.” 

Nicole peers over it with a sour look on her face. “What is that ?” she says and taps the Smokey the Bear sticker Waverly stuck to the top. Underneath his smiling face it says, ‘Only you can prevent forest fires’.

“That’s an added bonus.” Waverly smiles and thrusts the helmet towards Nicole, who rocks back a step shaking her head.

“I don’t need it,” she says, and picks out her vape pen from her front pocket. “My head is strong as steel, and this won’t start fires.” She lets the vapor build a curtain between them and rolls back another step down the driveway.

Waverly ignores her and carries on through the opaque curtain, holding her breath until she’s on the other side. Nicole freezes in horror as Waverly fits the helmet to her head and fastens the strap, making it snug. “Fits like a glove.” She taps the top of the helmet to make sure it doesn’t wiggle and plucks the pen from Nicole’s hand before spinning back towards the door. 

“Waverly!”

“See you at eight!” 

“You can’t just boss me around like I am a child, you know.” 

Just before taking the first step to the porch, Waverly glances back over her shoulder at the hardened line of Nicole’s brow, and her pouty pink lips. She’s cute when she’s pouting. “I do it because I care.” 

The pout softens and her lips curve at the corners. She cocks her head to one side. “Really?” 

Waverly hesitates. She cares about a lot of things—saving the environment, following the rules, going to University, making sure everyone around her is happy, but is one of those things Nicole? She supposes she does care about Nicole. Or at least she’s starting to. What kind of monster would she be not to care about Nicole, at least a little? 

“Yes, really.”

Nicole flicks her tongue over her lower lip and smiles. She propels backward rolling her bike carefully down the driveway and into the street. She winks. “See you at eight, sweetheart.” And kicks off the blacktop, legs pumping and wheels spinning, until she disappears around the corner. 

A black van flips around and follows Nicole around the corner. It’s not a PGE van but Waverly recognizes a camera hanging out of the passenger side window. Something about it gives her the creeps, but Robin did warn them about the cameras. She leaves it at that and disappears into the house. 

***

“What happened to the smoothie I made for you?” 

Nicole drops the helmet to the counter as if to prove she wore it. “I fed it to the rabbits. I need my scone.” 

Nicole’s hair’s flattened to her forehead, shaped by the helmet, and held in place with sweat. Her cheeks are an exaggerated pink and dotted with more sweat. Must be a marathon bike messaging day. “Why are you so sweaty?” She tilts her head and giggles. “Did you have to catch them first?”

“Just—give me a scone…please Waverly.” 

“Alright, geez I’m just teasing you.” 

Gus swings past holding a broom and a dustpan. “Someone peed all over the bathroom floor again. I need to you to grab a mop. We both know Stephanie’s not good for it.” 

Waverly slumps her shoulders. “Fudge nuggets.” She notices the disgruntled expression on Gus’s face as Gus bags up Nicole’s scone and sets it on the counter. “Honestly, who does that?”

“We’re surrounded by a bunch of animals in this town.” Her eyes flash to Nicole. Nicole recoils from the counter and holds the helmet to her chest like a shield. “Sorry girl—Hey!” Gus zips around the cash register and marches over to the door with her hands out in front of her. “I told yah, no cameras in my shop!”

Just out the front window Waverly spots the same black van parked across the street. No logo.  She eyes the sweat wetting Nicole’s hair and the way Nicole wrings the helmet strap with her fingers. “Did they chase you?” 

Nicole shakes her head no. 

Gus shoos two guys out the door, one holding a large camera over his shoulder and the other a sinister look. They don’t seem like PGE.

“Come here.” Nicole whispers. She grabs her scone and her Monster and nods over to her table.

“What?”

“Just come here for a second.” 

Waverly follows her to the corner table. Nicole sloughs off her jacket and arranges her breakfast.

“Okay, don’t look just yet but there’s a woman outside with a camera man. She practically chased me off my bike before I came in here.” 

Waverly tries to sneak a glance out of her peripheral vision. “Is she with those guys?” She nods to the men now walking back to the van. 

“I don’t think so…”

“Her names Jolene.” 

They both startle. Out of nowhere Eliza has appeared, looming over the table. She looks expectantly at Nicole. Nicole mutters in irritation and moves over a chair, dragging her Monster and her scone. 

Eliza situates herself on the chair next to Nicole and props up her arms on the table. Her eyes flicker between them and they’re both quiet. “Jolene works for The Hubris Press, and you are not to talk to her. Not a word. This woman will twist your words and ruin your lives.” 

“What does she want?” Waverly asks. 

“Same thing as any press. News. But she doesn’t want just any news. She wants the worst. The juiciest garbage she can dig out. So be careful. Don’t talk to her. Don’t let her in your lives. There’s only so much PGE can do to protect you. Do you understand?” 

They both nod, but Waverly’s not so sure she does understand. 

“Moving on. We got the rating reviews for the first episode. Congratulations, the world loves you. WayHaught makes the top 3 favorite couples on ‘The Newlyweds’ series.” 

“WayHaught?” Waverly asks.

“That’s what they call you.” 

They both blink at her in shared confusion.

Eliza rolls her eyes. “Come one...it’s your couple name. People like to shorten things with cute little names…dear god, it’s a combination of your names—like Brangelina.”

“Oh.” Waverly nods.

“That’s terrible. I hate it.” Nicole spits. 

“Stop being so whiny.” 

“Okay, moving on.” Eliza interjects. “Now that we have established you two as a couple, your relationship will be put to the test. PGE will arrange for you to participate in various activities to see how you respond. Keep up the good work, America will love you. Start some drama…America will love you.” 

“So we can do whatever we want?” Nicole asks.

“Yes and no. Robin will guide you with cue cards and verbal prompts to achieve the best possible outcome…but his suggestions are free to your interpretation.” With that she rises from her chair… “Good luck ladies.” She winks. 

“That’s it?” Waverly calls, but receive no answer. As quickly as Eliza appeared, she disappears. 

Nicole cracks open her Monster. Waverly turns and stares at her with mixed feelings. She doesn’t want to be known for her dramatics. That’s Nicole’s job, and Nicole’s good at. Waverly’s good at making shitty coffee and cleaning up other people’s urine. 

Nicole gives her a nod. “What’s up, buttercup?” 

“I don’t like this. Especially with that Jolene stalking us like animals.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just be your usual annoying self and I’m sure all America will see is the sweetheart you pretend to be.” Her smile is condescending and she gulps down her Monster. 

“It’s better than the reckless asshole you are! Oh, I can’t wait to see what the tabloids have to say about you.” 

As if on cue two young girls parade up to their table bouncing on their toes in miniskirts and crop tops. “You’re her, aren’t you?” the taller one says. “Nicole Haught from ‘The Newlyweds’?” 

Nicole’s cheek turn a bright rosy red, and she stammers out her words. “Ye-yup that’s her. I’m me…” She shakes her head. “Me! That’s me.” 

The girls bounce in excitement. “Can we get a selfie with you?” 

“W-with me? Really? Yeah, for sure.” Nicole nearly trips over herself to get to her feet.

Waverly stares in utter disbelief at the girls tucking themselves into Nicole, one under each arm while the taller one holds out the camera. She can’t decide whose smile is bigger, the two stupid girls’ or Nicole’s. 

“Thank you!” They chime and gallivant away.

Nicole drops to her chair wobbly and pink. A smirk spreads over her face. “You were saying?” 

Is this real life? The insanity of it. Waverly launches from her chair nearly taking the table with her. Nicole grabs her Monster to keep it steady.  

“Fuck you.” Waverly snaps and stomps away. 

Ridiculous. Is this what she’s going to have to deal with? Nicole is enough of a problem without having a bunch of fangirls following her around, stroking her already massive ego. 

She’s disgusted. Her wife is a narcissistic asshole, and all she wants is to give her a taste of her own medicine. She’s out for blood. She wants revenge and through PGE, she just might get it. 

***

It’s dark. The only light glows around the TV, and even that it is dim. On screen she follows the scene down a dark hallway. A school. Empty. Eerie music stirs fear in her chest as she moves into a classroom and towards the window. Glass shatters. An arm burst through and a voice creeps up on her from behind the couch. She jumps. Popcorns flies in the air.

“Waverly, where’s your book?”

Waverly flicks a kernel from her t-shirt and frowns at the oil splotch it leaves behind. Nicole takes a step closer, demanding an answer with her weight against the back of the couch. 

“I just started this show so…”

“But, it’s book time. We’re supposed to read now.” 

Waverly glances up. Nicole clutches a book in her hand and her eyes are wide in the shadowed living room. Waverly turns back to the TV and shoves popcorn in her mouth to keep from smiling.

“Remember that time you said you don’t watch a lot of TV?” Nicole says. She flings herself over the back of the couch and flops down next to Waverly, jostling the popcorn further. 

“Remember that time you lied and said you were allergic to chocolate?” 

“I didn’t lie.” Nicole frowns.

“You know, I could have had chocolate torte for my wedding.”

Nicole just huffs and grabs a fist full of popcorn. “ Our wedding, and was pink champagne not good enough for you?”

“It was good enough to smash all over your ridiculous face.” Waverly says playfully and palms Nicole’s face. Nicole’s swats her away, chuckling.

“Get off of me.” 

Waverly studies her for a moment. Those big brown eyes looking sweet as chocolate one moment and dark and brooding the next. She wonders what goes on in Nicole’s head all the time to make her like this, stubborn and ornery, but Waverly can see something soft there too.

“So, when did you decide you were allergic?”

Nicole rolls her eyes and slouches into the couch cushion with her arms folded across her chest. “Can we talk about something else?”  

There she goes. Her eyes blacken over like a shark. So sensitive for such a tough guy. “Fine.” Waverly pouts, then a smirk pops up on her face. “Was it hard growing up at the Chocolate Factory? Did you get so sick of the chocolate river, that Willy Wonka had to make you Skittle fountains and Licorice ropes? Is that why you don’t eat chocolate?”

“You think you are, but you’re not funny.” 

“I bet your dentist loves you.” Waverly grins.

Nicole tucks her hair behind her ear with a scowl. So grumpy.

“I don’t know anything about you except your eating and smoking habits. I feel like your wife should know more than that, don’t you?” 

After a suffocating amount of silence Nicole laughs. “You really want to know?”

“ Yes ! Tell me anything.”  

Her eyes light up amber gold again and Waverly can see their mystery slowly waiting to unravel. It socks her in the heart again, the anticipation. Her heart skips a beat and it adds two more. 

“I was born on a nudist colony.” 

“Huh?” Waverly cocks her head. That’s probably the last thing she thought might come out of Nicole’s mouth. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No! I’m completely serious. I spent the first 3 years of my life there until my grandma tracked down my mom and demanded she bring me here, to this house. ‘ A nudist colony is no place to raise a baby Diane !’” she mocks. 

Waverly giggles. “What else?”

Nicole taps her fingers on her chin. “Hm.” 

But the moment is interrupted by Waverly’s phone buzzing on the coffee table, stealing her attention. She picks it up and swipes her finger over the screen. 

CHAMP: Please baby just meet up with me one more time. Then I’ll leave you alone if that’s still what you want. I swear. 

Nicole places her hand over Waverly’s. “You don’t need it, Waverly. You don’t need him.”

“I know I just—" Even Nicole knows Champ’s just another shit head. She knows, so why can’t she just let him go?

“You’re good. You deserve something better. You deserve everything you want.” 

Waverly laughs at that, but it sounds surprisingly genuine coming from Nicole. “You know what I’ve always wanted?”

Nicole sits up, giving Waverly her full attention. “What?” 

“To parachute out of a plane at 15,000 feet…yeah to swim far far out into the ocean so that I can’t see the bottom anymore…to eat geoduck!” 

“Isn’t that the one that kind of looks like a p—”

“Yeah, it is. The point is, I’ve always wanted to do things that scare me but—” She swallows trying not to lose herself in amber and honey, but her mind fills with hot steam, satin sheets, and oversized diamond rings. 

It’s not her fault. Her fingers knot in the cotton of Nicole’s cut off tee tugging her close while Waverly thinks about the sun in her eyes, and how easily she melts at silky words and candy.

For a split second her heart stops. Nicole’s lips taste like popcorn and Licorice, and all she hears is I could love you…if you let me . Would Waverly let her?  I do love you, Waverly. Maybe Waverly wants to love her back, but Nicole’s tongue caresses her lips, and she’s just not ready. When her heart starts up again, she recognizes what she’s doing, and she releases Nicole with an abrupt force that separates them.  

“Oh fudge nuggets I’m…”

“No-no it was…”

“…so stupid, I really shouldn’t have.” Waverly prattles on through her burning hot embarrassment. Those were just lines written for a scene. Nicole doesn’t actually love her. Nicole doesn’t really want to kiss her either. She’s just really good at pretending for the cameras and Waverly’s really good at falling for tricks. 

Nicole shakes her head and shrugs. “I mean, I didn’t hate it…actually I.”

“…promise it will never happen again—”

“I won’t fight you if it does.” 

“What?”

Nicole swallows. “What?”

“You want to do it again?”

“No—nope?”

“That’s what you just said…basically.” 

“No…I said I won’t fight you if it does.” 

“Oh,” Waverly blinks and considers it for a moment. She could just fall for Nicole for a second longer. Fall for Nicole’s pretty little tricks. She didn’t hate it either, after all what is one kiss? But it’s risky. No, it’s stupid. She shifts closer anyway. 

“I can’t,” she says soft and weak, but her fingers still trace feather light up Nicole’s arm, because she wants to. She wants Nicole. She wants Nicole to want her too. Always and forever.

 “Okay.” Nicole says equally soft. 

 “I think I want to.” Waverly admits, when her fingers hook under the cut-off sleeve of Nicole’s tank top. Nicole shivers when she pinches the fabric then straightens it out again with the flat of her hand. 

Waverly’s fingers continue their path up Nicole’s neck, and Nicole inches closer, sharing breath just millimeters away. The muscles in Nicole’s neck tighten under her hand and Nicole swallows before she says, “I want you to.”

Goosebumps stretch out over Waverly’s own skin like armor. 

“Okay,” she says with soft fingers flexing an invitation over Nicole’s jaw.  

Nicole takes it. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips and Waverly can feel it on her own when they’re barely close enough to touch. Just a ghost of contact before the lights go out. 

It’s pitch black. Nicole’s hand goes to the back of Waverly’s head keeping her steady with a gentle hopeful pressure. “Keep going,” she whispers, and Waverly can taste the licorice on her breath again.

Waverly nods, bumping their noses together in the pitch black darkness. Her heart races and comes to a skidding stop before it picks back up again. This is happening. She’s going to kiss Nicole, but she keeps fidgeting. Trying to get the perfect angle and playing with the soft hair at the nape of Nicole’s neck. All the while Nicole’s hot breath brushes against her lips waiting patiently for her to close the gap. Do it Waverly. You know you want to.

But a rustling coming from upstairs startles her. She jolts back and turns an eye to the staircase in the darkness half expecting to find a pair of eyes staring back it her. It gives her chills. Then she detects it again. 

“What’s that?” 

Nicole sighs. “Wait here.” She launches off the couch cushion and leaps over the back. Her feet smack against the hardwood on the other side. 

“W-where are you going?”

“I’m going to go check it out.”

“What if someone’s there?”

“I’ll grab my gun from my closet.” 

Waverly whips around so fast. “You have a gun?”

“Shhh. It’s in a safe and it’s not loaded. Just wait here okay. Trust me?” 

Waverly doesn’t wait. She follows Nicole upstairs clinging to the back of her shirt the whole way to Nicole’s room.

“Ow Waverly, your goddamn nails. Can you like trim those things one of these days?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous and I really have to pee.” 

“Go pee. I’ll guard the door,” Nicole says, clicking something on the gun Waverly can’t identify. They shuffle back into the hallway towards the rustling. Waverly can hardly see anything more than 2 inches in front of her, but then she sees them. Those two glowing eyes she’s been expecting since storm number one. She digs her fingers into Nicole sides and rears up, holding Nicole steady. 

“N-no I can’t because it’s in there and it’s looking right at me.”

“Come on.” They approach the bathroom cautiously, slowly, and…it’s a cat prancing around on the counter knocking over Waverly’s hairspray.

“Beyoncé?” The grey tabby whines. Nicole drops the gun to her thigh and the lights come back on. “Almost wasted a bullet.” 

“You said it wasn’t loaded!”

“What good is a gun without bullets?” 

Waverly smacks Nicole in the stomach. “Do you even watch the news?”

“Do you?”

 Waverly scoops up that cat and cradles it in her arms. “Uh, I think your Beyoncé is a Jay-Z.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Surprise! It’s a boy.” 

Nicole frowns and scratches the cat on the head. “Still Beyoncé to me.” 

“Well it explains why Beyoncé keeps coming around rubbing on all of Calamity’s stuff. He’s trying to rub all over Calamity’s stuff.” Waverly giggles and wiggles her eyebrows. “But Calamity Janes spayed, right?”

“I kind of never got around to doing that.” 

“Nicole!”

“Don’t give me anymore lectures on responsibility. I am all lectured out today!” Nicole whips around and trudges to her bedroom down the hall. She slams the door behind her, but opens it again just a crack. Waverly smirks, and pivots in the other direction to her own room. 

“Goodnight!” she calls over her shoulder.

Just before shutting her door a muffled “‘night.” answers back.   

  ***

Dr. Svane has never asked for a private meeting before. Waverly was admittedly apprehensive. It started off fine with some basic questions. How are you feeling? Has anything changed? Nothing too invasive, until he slapped a fat stack of cash on the table between them. 

Waverly just gaped at it. She’s never seen that much money before in her life.

“I want you to start a fight publicly with Nicole…make a big scene.”

The words seemed to have come out of nowhere, and they pull her out of her initial shock. Waverly takes a second to look around and make sure she’s in the right place. The long red velvet curtains still shape the sunlight into one thick strip cutting the horrid bearskin rug in two. The same outdated psychology book, The Primal Scream, is stacked untouched on his desk, but The Confidence Game by Maria Konnikova wasn’t there before. 

And he’s still here relaxed in his leather chair with his Rolex and his thin framed glasses. Yup, she’s still in the same swanky downtown office prescribing the Hollywood cure for crazy. “What? Why?”

“I propose a date. A cute little restaurant somewhere. Nicole does have a history of stringing multiple women along. Would it be so bold to say you are a little miffed about it? Jealous even?”

How does he know Nicole’s history with women? What does he know? They’ve only met him a handful of times, mostly doing weird little couples exercises that Nicole seems to get a kick out of making as miserable as possible. They’ve hardly given him their life stories, so what was in those files Robin gave him? “You’re a therapist. Should you be making these kinds of suggestions? It doesn’t exactly feel like a healthy way to move forward.”

“I am a therapist, but I’m also in show business. I am not only here to help you Waverly, but to also guide you on your path to stardom,” Dr. Svane reassures. 

“I am not sure I want to be famous. I just want to—”

“Survive I know,” he dismisses, and leans forward with his arms resting on his knees. “This is how you survive Waverly. Make PGE happy and they’ll make you happy. This—” he taps the cash on the table with his index finger pointedly. “is why we’re here…isn’t it?” 

Waverly sinks into the white leather couch as far as its unforgiving cushion allows, and eyeballs the money on the table. This she’s not sure she can do. 

***

Nicole bursts out of her room, all fired up in a maroon sweater over a navy button-up and khaki pants.  Waverly buries her face in Jeremy’s shoulder hiding her laugh. Her own dress is white with maroon flowers. It’s cut just above the knee and has a summery flow. Jeremy did her hair, of course, and her makeup. 

Nicole snarls, red faced. “I’ve Poke’ evolved into Ned Flanders! I won’t do it.”

“I hate to pull the contract card Mrs. Haught, but you agreed to allow PGE to provide you with a stylist for PGE interviews and events.” 

“I think you look cute. That sweater looks good on you,” Waverly says. 

Some of the lines loosen on Nicole’s face. She holds Waverly with her gaze like she often does. It’s hypnotic. Her fingers go to her hair following it around her ear where it stays tucked. 

“I can’t wear the khaki. I’ll live with the nerd sweater, but I can’t wear khaki. No one looks good in khaki.” 

“Just no holes in your pants. This is a family show.” Rosita calls after Nicole as she ascends the stairs.

Nicole laughs. “I’m so fucking sure.” 

Nicole does not wear the sweater, and her jeans do in fact have holes.

****

“Tell me Waverly, how have things been going so far?” 

Waverly shifts on the couch. Eliza’s gaze is heavy, and the hidden accusations in her words makes Waverly itch. It’s suffocating the way Eliza commands a room. She probes and prods to get out an answer, but not just any answer, THE answer. The problems is, Waverly doesn’t know what that answer is. She’s expected to find it all on her own. The hard way, and it’s itchy. So, she squirms. “Um, fine I guess?”

Wrong answer.

“Really?” Eliza pries. She crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. Her eyes study Waverly’s face with what feels like a magnifying glass under the sun. Heat concentrates all over Waverly’s cheeks and pinks her chest. She’s not sure what to say. 

It was only a fight. She only did what Dr. Svane asked her to do. So why is she in the hot seat? “Because from where I am sitting it seems like you and Nicole are having some troubles. Do you want to tell me about them? You can trust me. I’m a good listener.” 

She knows that’s Eliza’s job, but she still sinks at the manipulation drenching Eliza’s voice. She squirms some more. Her clothes feel suddenly full of thorns, scratching her like thick dry wool. They’re too tight. Eliza can make her say something. Eliza can make her say anything PGE wants if she doesn’t think of something good enough on her own. 

“We…we’re fine.” Her voice cracks and she tries to swallow, but her mouth is getting dry. Does she play along with Dr. Svane? Is she supposed to talk about Nicole’s history with women and how she’s jealous? Eliza watches her expectantly but gives her no other cues. “Well, I guess I have some trust issues?”

“Is that a question?” Eliza snaps. Waverly stuffs herself so far into the couch she’s sure her ass has hit the floor. PGE didn’t know about the fight Dr. Svane and Waverly had planned. Waverly was supposed to follow the cue card like Nicole did, and at one point she was sure Robin was having an aneurysm. It was all a surprise. Waverly can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

Eliza’s face offers little evidence either way. She nods at Derek who changes positions. He gets closer. Waverly can feel his greasy camera practically pressed up against her heated cheek. “Try again Waverly.”  

She clears her throat. She can do this. She’s like TNT, she knows drama. “Sometimes I go back to that place. Before, when we first started dating and…” 

Eliza leans forward with an impish smile adorning her face. A chaotic energy radiates off her and charges Waverly up like a devilish AA battery. “And?”

“There were always other girls…with their smiles and their touches. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then there was whispering…around town. I confronted him about it—”

“Nicole? You confronted Nicole?”

Waverly shakes her head. Get your story straight . “Nicole. I confronted Nicole and she said it wasn’t true.” 

“You believed her.” Eliza says as fact, rather than a question. Because gullible low self-esteem Waverly is better for reviews.

“I did.” Waverly confirms and stares at her hands wringing in her lap. She did. “But then today, when I saw the way she was looking at our waitress and the way the waitress…Scarlet,” She rolls her eyes in honest to god irritation. The waitress was a problem to begin with. “Scarlet directed all her attention to Nicole…I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I had to say something. I just blew up…all over lunch.” 

“Alright ladies, I have your cue cards.” Robin hands each of them half a note card as they sit opposite each other at the table. Nicole frowns at hers immediately. “Now I’ll be here the whole time. Just on the other side of this gate.” He maneuvers around the short cast iron gate guarding the outdoor dining to Maurice’s. Derek positions himself nearby, and another PGE Camera moves behind Nicole. 

They’re just cameras, but on the other side are the millions of viewers tuning in to judge, laugh, and cry while Waverly makes a fool of herself on a daily basis. She’s not awkward enough on her own without having greasy Derek’s lens breathing down her neck, watching her trip over her own feet on the way to work, or spilling coffee down the front of her apron after it burnt the shit out of her tongue. No, that’s all she needs is to have her mess televised across the nation. Waverly Earp, the laughingstock of Purgatory. 

“And cue the waitress please.” Robin yells. 

A tall dark haired woman with a punk rock vibe and Betty bangs stalks in on high heels, with two tri-fold menus. She sets them down in front of each of them. “Hello guys, I am Scarlet, and I’ll be your server today.” She smiles with her bright red lipstick and cat winged eyes batting right at Nicole. “Can I get any drinks started for you?”

“Um…water please.” Waverly says.

Scarlet doesn’t acknowledge her. Instead, she leans over Nicole with her breasts practically on Nicole’s forehead and points to the smaller menu on the table next to the salt and pepper shakers. “Our drink specials are good until 3 pm. We have a variety of cocktails…I’d recommend the French Kiss with Gin and fresh lemon juice, but you…” she bites her lip and taps the tip of Nicole’s nose with a long skinny finger. “You look more like a whiskey neat kind of gal.” 

Nicole blushes. SHE blushes. Unbelievable. “Oh, come on,” Waverly groans. Nicole and Scarlet both focus on her. “Is this a part of the game? Do I really have to sit and endure this for the next hour?” 

Robin giggles nervously and peaks over the edge of the iron gate. “Mrs. Earp, I assure you this is not a game. Please refer to your cue card going forward. Thank you. Now let’s try again.” He returns to a squatted position while Derek pans the camera above him. 

Waverly huffs. “Sure. Anything you say Robin.” 

Scarlet angles herself towards Nicole with red lips stretched into a wide flirty smile. “How about I bring you both and you can see which one you like better.” Nicole nods slowly with her jaw hanging open. Scarlet gives Nicole’s collar a pinch before striding away. Her heels clap loudly against the concrete.

“I’ll take a water while you’re at it,” Waverly hollers.

“Sweetheart, what is the matter with you?” 

“Don’t sweetheart me. I see right through you Nicole Haught.” Her lips get tight and her voice is caught dry in her throat. She stares Nicole down. “Right. Through.” 

Nicole throws herself back in her chair like Waverly shoved her. She fiddles with the buttons of her shirt and Waverly watches as Nicole releases the top two. She undoes the buttons to her sleeve too and rolls the cuff messily. She folds until it’s three quarters or the way up her arm, then pushes it over her elbow so that the fabric bunches in the pit of her arm. The other she rolls to match.

Waverly’s cheeks start to burn, and her mouth gapes open. She really hopes she’s not drooling in front of America. 

Nicole runs her fingers through the side of her hair and tucks it neatly behind her ear. A smile spreads dimple to dimple over her face and she winks. “What’s the matter sweetheart? You’re looking awfully thirsty? How about that water?” 

“Cue cards.” Robin whispers. 

“Tell me what happened next, Nicole?” Eliza asks. 

Eliza insisted Waverly remain in the kitchen for Nicole’s private interview, but every word that comes out of that redhead's mouth has her fuming. 

“That’s a good question. Here we were…I thought having a nice time and out of nowhere she just starts being difficult. Every little thing I say is wrong.” 

“That does sound difficult. Why do you think that is?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know. She’s just a bossy pain in the ass…who I love obviously.” Nicole shies away from the camera. Waverly glares at her through the opening in the kitchen. She cracks open one of Nicole’s Monsters and watches it drain in the sink in a toxic purple hiss. Somewhere at the bottom of the garbage disposal is the better half of a bag of Skittles. 

“I’ll show you a pain in the ass,” she mutters. Nicole keeps talking like that and Waverly will find a new home for that heinous bong hiding under the coffee table. 

“Anyway, the waitress comes over with our drinks…” Nicole continues.

Scarlet sets down a lowball glass half full of cheap whiskey, and a pink fizzing martini glass with an orange peel garnish. “Here we are cutie. Did you decide what you want to eat?”

“Excuse me?” Scarlet pries her eyes away from Nicole to Waverly. “My water?”

“Oh. My bad. I’ll just take your orders and bring it with your food ‘kay?” 

“Okay, well I’d like the mozzarella stuffed manicotti with fresh marinara and a Caesar salad…without the croutons please.” 

“How about you cutie?” Scarlet touches Nicole’s shoulder lightly with her fingertips. Nicole continues her blushing just like she did with those two stupid girls at Eden’s. “Can I get you some breadsticks or a salad?”

“Breadsticks sound good.” Nicole swallows. 

Scarlet gets even more ridiculous lifting Nicole’s drink and holding the straw to Nicole’s lips. 

“Are you going to flirt with her the whole time?”

“What?” Nicole says, looking over the French Kiss. 

“With Scarlet? Are you going to flirt with her the whole time?” 

“I’ll be back with your orders.” Scarlet says, and rushes away.

“Bye now,” Waverly mocks. 

Nicole flips over her cue card and smirks. “Waverly, I think we should talk about what’s really going on here.”

“And what is that?”

“Your little addiction…” 

“What addiction? I don’t have any addictions.” 

“Come on sweetheart.” Nicole smiles sympathetically and reaches for Waverly’s hand across the table. “Porn?” 

Waverly gasps. “I do not have an addiction to porn!” she says a little too loudly, and draws the attention of nearby tables. 

“Very good Nicole,” Robin whispers through the fence with a thumbs up. Derek homes in on Waverly, waiting for her to react again.

“Seriously Nicole! Porn?” 

“I am just trying to help you, sweetheart.” 

“You know what would really help me?” Waverly wasn’t sure she could do it before, but between this clown show and the other…she’s ready to show Nicole just how ridiculous she is. Waverly snatches that French Kiss and the contents go flying across the table and splash in Nicole’s face.

Nicole drags her hands down her face, mouth hung open in shock, and frowns at her booze soaked button-up. “Waverly what the hell!”

“That’s for Scarlet.” She grabs the lowball glass and that goes flying too. “That’s for Eden’s. You’re a filthy liar and a flirt Nicole Haught. I’m tired of it.” Waverly stomps off looking back only to say, “Don’t follow me.” 

“She was just so rude.” Waverly crosses her arms over her chest. “She treated me like I was the annoying one…the one who was flirting with her wife.” 

“I can imagine that must have been hard for you.” 

“Hard?” Waverly scoffs. “It was…I just wanted Nicole to pay attention to me…for once. ” 

“Is that why you did it? For attention?” 

Waverly thinks about it. Dr. Svane told her to do it. That’s why she did it, right? Scarlet was awful and Nicole was being awful. She had every right to be mad. Nicole is her wife after all, but she wasn’t really jealous, was she? 

“Waverly?” 

Waverly leaps from the couch, and marches into the kitchen. She rips Nicole’s vape pen out of her hand and waves it in her face. “Why are you such a skeeze?” 

“Hey, do you know where my Skittles went? I swore I still had a half of bag.” Waverly folds her arms over her chest tapping her foot for an answer. Nicole sighs resignedly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No? Of course, you don’t. You’re just out there flirting with every Betty Rockabilly with a drink special. I don’t understand why—”

Nicole cuts her off. Waverly didn’t see it coming, it was the shock wave in her chest that she felt first. Nicole’s lips smash against hers long enough for her to forget she was angry.

“You’re not the only one under the care of Dr. Svane and Mr. Crazypants.” 

“You mean…so it was all pretend?” 

“To me.” She winks and disappears out of the kitchen. 

***

“Son of a bitch!”

It only hurts for a second and then a sort of panic induced numbness kicks in. A few drops of blood pool on the cutting board, stressing the severity of the injury. It was only a carrot. She got carried away. She should have been more careful. It doesn’t take that much enthusiasm to cut up a carrot. 

She grabs the closest thing to her, which happens to be a dirty dishrag, and wraps it tight around her index finger. Shaking and distraught she clutches her hand against her chest and dances erratically around the kitchen. 

“Shit. Shit. SHIT!”

Nicole comes swinging around the corner. Her socked feet skid across the tile flooring and with a troubled look on her face she comes to a halt. “Waverly!” She extends her arms out in consolation. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

Tears trail down Waverly's cheeks. She’s too afraid to look and too traumatized to speak. She cut her finger off, she just knows it. 

She sniffles and tilts her head toward the bloody cutting board and the chopping knife. 

“Let me see.” Nicole reaches out again. 

She shakes her head and clutches her hand tighter to her body. If she doesn’t look, it didn’t happen. 

“It’s going to be okay. Just let me take a look.” 

Waverly shakes her head again as the adrenalin peters out and her finger develops a pulse of its own. 

“Are you just going to wear that dirty dish towel for the rest of your life? It might get infected and make it worse. I’ll be careful okay?”

She didn’t consider an infection. What if it spreads and she loses her whole arm? Or worse…what if she dies?

 Waverly caves. She holds out her ruined hand reluctantly and glances off the other way, opposite of the crime scene on the counter. Nicole carefully unwraps the dishrag and is…silent. Silent isn’t good. Waverly swallows down a sob and shakes her head slowly. 

“Is it bad?” she asks, though she’s not sure if she really wants to know the answer. 

Nicole sighs. “Well, I think it’s going to be okay. We should probably get you a tetanus shot just to be safe.” 

“What about my finger? Can-can they sew it back on?” 

Nicole’s quiet again. Waverly pleads with the universe that she will still have 10 fingers by the end of the day. 

“I suppose it could be sewn back on if we can find it in that carrot, but honestly it’s so small it will probably die and fall back off.” 

Die? That’s not a word she wants to hear in reference to an appendage. Her finger can’t just die . She sniffles again as she tries so hard to keep it together, but her insides are running around setting fire to themselves in stressed induced chaos. 

“I wouldn’t worry Waverly.” Nicole reassures. “Once it’s healed, you’ll hardly notice, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll take you to the hospital right now and we’ll see what they say.” 

Waverly glances in Nicole’s direction at the gentle look on her face, the sincerity of it, then she follows an oversized drop of bright red blood down her arm and watches in horror as it drips from her elbow to the floor with the tiniest wet smack. 

She nods. “I need my finger to be whole again.” 

Nicole smiles sweetly. She tosses aside the dirty dishrag and replaces it with a clean one. The new pressure stirs up a sting as the fabric sticks and tugs on the open wound. 

It doesn’t take long for Nicole to sort out Waverly’s fingertip from the carrot chunks. Waverly refuses to look when Nicole tries to explain it isn’t very much. There’s no convincing her. Going to the hospital isn’t a question. Nicole does what she asks and store her missing piece in a Ziplock bag inside another Ziplock bag with ice. 

“Where’s your car keys? Unless you want to ride my handlebars…I’ll let you wear my helmet.” She smiles big, dimple to dimple. 

“They’re over there.” Waverly nods to the counter behind Nicole, next to the untouched pile of bills. 

Nicole backpedals and hooks the keys with her finger. They jingle until she has them clasped in her hand. Waverly’s finger throbs with jealousy. Will it ever be able to hook things again? 

“Alright, let’s get our shoes and go, shall we?” 

Nicole helps Waverly into the passenger seat of the Jeep. She probably could have managed to shimmy in herself, but the gesture is more than appreciated. Nicole starts the engine and a cool burst of air washes over Waverly’s hypersensitive skin. Maybe she’s in shock. How much blood did she lose in there?

Nicole notices her discomfort and messes around with the gauges, but the cool air keeps coming. It’s always been that way. By the time the damn thing heats up, she’s already made it to work. If it’s winter, she arrives a popsicle. 

Nicole nods and kicks the Jeep into gear. It occurs to her that she’s never seen Nicole drive. Come to think about it, she’s not sure Nicole has a car, though she’s never been in the garage. Honestly, she doesn’t know where the door is. The house is like Hogwarts, it makes no sense. 

“Do you even have a license?” 

“Nope.” Nicole grins and zooms down the residential street as if it were no different than the highway. 

“Well maybe you should slow down.” 

“Why? Are you scared?” 

“No,” Waverly lies, as Nicole practically barrels through a stop sign. She bites her tongue. All her energy is tied up in this throbbing bloody mess of a finger. She lets her head rest against the seat and stares out the window silently until they arrive at Purgatory General. 

“Here we are. Should I get you a wheelchair or do you think you can walk?”

“Don’t patronize me. I’m dying.”

“That’s a little dramatic don’t you think?” 

Waverly bites her tongue again. Nicole’s the most dramatic person she’s ever met, but she accepts Nicole’s help out of the car and follows her inside. 

They get in line behind a pregnant woman clearly in labor, grunting and squeezing the hand of who is presumably her husband. In front of them, a woman soothes a screaming baby. She doesn’t speak English and she’s having trouble communicating with the nurse behind the desk. 

“Por favor…ayuda mi hijo esta muy enfermo.”

“Miss if you could just fill out these forms here with your insurance information, we can get you checked in.”

“No entiendo. Necesito ayuda.” The woman gently bounces the infant on her hip. His cheeks are bright red and wet with tears. 

A dark haired woman taps the other woman’s arm to get her attention. “Llene estos formularios y un médico lo verá. ¿Bueno?” she asks with a radiant smile. She is tall like Nicole with long beautiful black hair that catches the light in a pleasant way, shiny like obsidian. She smiles once more at the woman who nods and withdraws the clipboard from the counter. Waverly concentrates on her. She looks familiar. 

“Si, gracias,” the woman says. She and her baby wander off toward a row of chairs where she sits. 

“Next please,” the nurse calls. Waverly suddenly feels silly coming here when all the people around her are screaming in pain and she sashays in with a missing fingertip, but she is really attached to her finger. 

She hardly notices the tension in Nicole’s body, stiff as a board, but when she looks up Nicole’s face is dead focused on the dark haired woman. Her expression is unreadable. 

On the other hand, the dark haired woman lights up immediately when she recognizes Nicole. Waverly’s sure she hears Nicole’s heart thud loud in her chest. The whole room must have heard it. 

“Nicole!” the woman chimes, bright-eyed with pearly white teeth. She reaches out as if to throw her arms over Nicole’s shoulders, but Nicole steps back. Nicole’s arm goes around Waverly protectively, practically smooshing Waverly into her side. 

Waverly observes them curiously. An uneasiness quivers in the pit of her stomach. Something about this feels worse than a three-quarter length finger. 

“Shae?” What are you doing here?” 

Oh.

“I’m here for a few months to meet with some old colleagues of mine. We’re collaborating on a new project. We’re…” she stops and dismisses it with her hand. “You probably don’t want to hear all the boring details. It was never really your thing…” she trails off with a note of resentment. “Anywho, how are you? What have you been up to?” 

Nicole squeezes Waverly tighter. Her cheek probably looks ridiculous smooshed into Nicole’s t-shirt, but she doesn’t fight it. 

“I’m here with my wife…we had a bit of a kitchen accident.” 

Shae’s gaze falls to Waverly, noticing her for the first time. Waverly’s isn’t too offended. She doesn't feel very noticeable tucked under Nicole’s arm like a baby duck. 

“Oh. Right.” Her mouth twists like something bitter is swirling around in there. “I heard about the whole fake marriage thing. I didn’t thank you would actually go through with it. It’s a bit juvenile, don’t you think? I mean if you were that desperate for money, I could have lent it to you.” 

“It’s not fake,” Nicole snaps in defense. “She is my real wife, and her name is Waverly Earp.” 

Shae’s eyebrows raise and she slow nods. “Wow. An Earp.” 

The way she says it, Earp , like it’s dirty, something to be ashamed of. The Earp name does have a bit of a reputation. They’re not known for their quiet conformative lifestyle, but still. Earp. If Wynonna were here, she’d have this snooty bitch laid out before she could say ‘hola’. 

“What’s that supposed—” Waverly starts.

“Next please.” 

“That’s right. Earp.” Nicole adds with confidence. “Excuse us.” Nicole leads Waverly to the counter. 

The nurse slides a clipboard across the counter and repeats the same rehearsed lines. “Please fill these out with your insurance information and we can check you in.” 

After a few minutes a nurse wearing light blue scrubs comes down the hallway. “Waverly?” 

Waverly spots her and waves her hand in a feeble manner. “Right here.” 

“Great. Come on back. I’m Gretta.” 

They follow her to a small room at the end of the hall. It’s sterile white and spotless. There’s a track for the curtains that circle the bed from the ceiling, and a tangle of cords and hoses hanging from the wall blinking with green lights. 

Gretta gestures and Waverly slumps down on the end of the bed. Nicole stands dutifully beside her. 

“So, what’s going on today?”

“I cut off the tip of my…finger.” Waverly says through the lump in her throat she can’t seem to swallow. 

“Ah.” Gretta nods. She elevates Waverly’s hand and unwraps it. She manipulates it as she does her examination. “Well, let’s get you cleaned up before your doctor comes in.”

Waverly buries her face in Nicole’s side while Gretta wipes down her arm and hand with a warm cloth. 

“There you go. The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

Nicole smiles. She cups Waverly face in her hands and brushes the tears from Waverly’s cheeks with her thumb. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart.” 

Waverly smiles weakly back. She’s not so sure, but Nicole continues to reassure her. 

Her good hand tangles in the soft cotton of Nicole’s t-shirt, holding Nicole in place until the doctor swoops in. He knocks on the door and smiles. “Hello, I’m Dr. Reggie. The nurse said there was an incident with a knife and a fingertip?” 

Much to Waverly’s dismay Nicole moves aside for Dr. Reggie. He stops at the sink to quickly wash his hands before wheeling over a stool and squatting down on it. “Okay, let’s have a look.” 

Waverly holds out her hand and closes her eyes. “Uh-huh.” He mutters. “Well, what do you want to do Mrs. Earp?” 

“What kind of question is that? I want you to sew the damn thing back together.” She shoves the Ziplock bag at him.

Dr. Reggie’s gaze flickers from Waverly to Nicole. Nicole shrugs. 

“Alright,” he says. He pops up from the stool and proceeds toward the sink. He pulls out a few things from the cabinets and sets them unwrapped on a tray. When he comes back again, he has needles and scissors and all kinds of things Waverly would rather be unaware of.

“Waves, I’ll be right back okay?” 

“No. Don’t leave. Please?” 

Nicole squeezes her shoulder and winks affectionately. “You got this Earp. I’ll be right back.” Then strides straight out the door to Shae standing in the hallway, talking to a nurse in blue scrubs.

A little prick gets her attention. “Ow!” 

“Sorry. I thought it might hurt less when you weren’t looking.” Dr. Reggie says. 

“It didn’t.” 

“It’s just something to numb your finger.”

Waverly observes a lot of excited hand gestures coming from Nicole. Shae smiles and reaches for Nicole’s arm. Nicole doesn’t smile. Her face says something very different than Shae’s. Nicole’s drips with agony. She dodges every pleading touch Shae offers until she says her final words and strides back into Waverly’s room.  

“How is she doing Doc. Is my wife whole again?” 

Greasy Derek follows Nicole into the room. Nicole ignores him. She’s good at pretending she’s not being watched.

“I’d say she’s good as new.” Dr. Reggie rips off his gloves. “The nurse will be in momentarily with your discharge papers. Those stitches will dissolve on their own, so no need to come back. Bye now.” 

Nicole plops on the stool in his place, looking up at her. She seizes Waverly’s finger and inspects it. For the first time, Waverly sets her eyes on it. It’s just a tiny ring of stitches on the upper side of her finger. It doesn’t look so bad. She wiggles it just to be sure it works. It aches but seems to function normally. 

She focuses back on Nicole and the hurt in her eyes. That little freckle is clear as day under the fluorescents. It’s magnified under the gloss in Nicole’s eyes, as if they had briefly filled with tears then dried up again. 

“How does it feel? Are you still dying?” 

She holds back a smile and inspects the stitches again. “No. I think I’ll live.”

“Good.”

“Are you okay?”

Nicole smiles. “I think I’ll live.”   

But Waverly can’t shake the feeling that she’s hiding something. 

***

Waverly knocks on the door. “Nicole?”

Nicole’s bare back is to the door. She’s bent over the bed loosening the buttons on a black button-up. She glowers over her shoulder. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“So, you just come in? What do you need Waverly?”

“There’s something wrong with the sink…it’s backed up.” 

Nicole throws the shirt over her shoulders and shoves each of her arms through the sleeves. “Did you turn the water off?”

“Of course, I turned the water off.” 

She sighs. “Show me.” 

Nicole follows Waverly downstairs and to the kitchen.

“Explain,”is all she says.

“I filled up the sink to wash the dishes and when I was done the water wouldn’t drain. I couldn’t find the switch to the garbage disposal so I—"

“I told you the garbage disposal doesn’t work,” Nicole interrupts. 

Nicole digs around in the drain and comes up with a handful of melted but still recognizable Skittles. She whirls around with a whole other level of dark and brooding on her face.

Waverly shrugs sheepishly.

“Sorry.” 

 ***

She’s easily swallowed by the crowded dance floor, seen only by the neon lights bouncing pink, blue, and purple across her face. The bass pounds in her chest and is indistinguishable from her own heartbeat as her hips move to the rhythm. She gets lost in it. In the eardrum bursting speakers standing in every corner of the room crashing over her like waves. She loves it. The freedom of her body moving on its own accord while everyone around her does the same. 

Her hair falls in a mess over her hot, sweating cheeks, and past her shoulders where the individual strands sway. She brushes it out of her face and gets a clear view of the cameras standing against the wall near the door. 

She spins on her heels to Chrissy. “I need to go to the bathroom.” 

Chrissy nods and follows Waverly weaving through the sea of people. “I’ll grab us some water.” 

Waverly’s feet root to the ground when she comes around the corner, shocked to catch Nicole pinning some chick against the wall with their lips mashed together and their fingers tangled in clothes and hair. “Nicole?” 

Nicole flinches away, startled. “Waverly?”

“Nicole you can’t just make out with random chicks at the bar.” Waverly glances over her shoulder for cameras.

“She’s not random. She’s my girlfriend. Kevin.” 

The words hang heavy in her chest. Girlfriend . Her eyelids feel hot and heavy. Is she going to cry? Kevin stands up straighter and smiles. She loops her arm around Nicole’s waist and nestles her head against Nicole’s chest. No, she’s not going to cry. Nicole can have all the girlfriends she wants. 

“You can’t have a girlfriend!” Or not. 

“And who are you to tell her what she can’t have?” 

This time Waverly stands a little taller, and with her arms crossed smugly against her chest. “I’m her wife.” 

Kevin’s jaw flexes. She wheels around to Nicole and slaps her hands against Nicole’s chest, forcing her back a couple of steps. “I thought you said you were divorced. Have you not been divorced this whole time?” 

“N-no, I am divorced. I am both.” 

Kevin sizes Waverly up. Waverly notices Kevin has the same tattoo as Nicole and Wynonna, but on her wrist. Was Kevin in Juvie with Wynonna too? What is it that they need protection from? Who? 

“I’m confused.” 

“What if someone sees you Nicole? We signed a contract, remember?” she says in a hushed tone, and glances over her shoulders praying those cameras didn’t follow her.

“No one’s looking.” 

“You know what…I thought maybe…” She hesitates. What did she think? Did she think one millisecond long kiss meant something? Two millisecond long kisses? That it gave her any claim over Nicole? “I thought for a second…” She sighs. Of course, it didn’t. Nicole doesn’t belong to her, and she doesn’t really want that, does she? 

“Waverly?” 

“We should go home, Nicole. I saw cameras near the dance floor and if PGE…”

“Wait a second,” Kevin interjects. “You really are married, aren’t you? Cameras? What are you some kind of celebrity?”

 Nicole brushes past her holding out her arms. “Is that what you want Waverly? Me to come home with you?” 

Waverly's eyes fall to her hipbone, where the hem of Nicole's button-up raises just enough that Waverly can see red TomBoy underwear peeking out of her waistband, and that damn pocket knife in her front pocket.

“Pull your damn shirt down!” is all she can say, and yanks the hem of Nicole’s button-up almost to her knees.

 “Hey, you’re stretching it out!”

“Good, maybe it needs to be stretched…I’m tired of seeing all your…shapes.” 

“Waverly stop.” Nicole swats her away. “Just tell me what you want me to do, sweetheart?”

Come home with me . No, she won’t tell Nicole what to do. Not this time. If Nicole wants to come home with her, she can decide it her damnself. “Do whatever you want Nicole!” 

Nicole studies her wide-eyed, and swallows. She doesn’t follow Waverly when Waverly spins the other way and bolts down the hall. She doesn’t call after her. In fact, when Waverly glances over her shoulder as she veers the corner Kevin has Nicole back in her grasp. Nicole doesn’t really care. She doesn’t want Waverly. 

“Waverly?” Chrissy has her by the shoulders shaking her into the present. “Dude, are you okay? You look all clammy.” 

“It’s hot in here.” 

“I got you some water.” 

Waverly shakes her head. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go home. I’m not feeling well suddenly.” 

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“No. No. I’ll be okay. Stay and have fun. Be safe.” She smiles. Chrissy smiles weakly back. 

The cool fresh air hits her like a splash of cold water after being crammed in that boiler room of a nightclub. She replays everything in her head. The kiss on the couch. The kiss in the kitchen. She doesn’t care how short they were, Nicole has a girlfriend and she has every right to be mad. 

Then Nicole has the nerve to ask Waverly what she should do? 

Waverly snarls in disgust and picks up her pace across the parking lot, into almost a run. She fumbles around in her pocket and whips out her phone. Nicole has no right to tell her what she needs or who she needs. She sure as hell doesn’t need Nicole.

WAVERLY: Still want to talk?

CHAMP: Come over? ;)

***

It’s the same old shit he always says. 

I’m sorry. I need you. I’ll be better. 

But it’s late and she’s tired. She’s not sure how much more asshole she can combat tonight. Why'd she even come again anyway? Because of Nicole? She pushes off the edge of his couch and crosses the room to the door. “Look Champ. I just can’t this time. I’m kind of married.” Am married.

“But it’s not like it’s real and it’s to her . That’s not you.” 

“You don’t even know me,” she snaps over her shoulder.

He leaves the couch and follows her. His hands slide over her shoulders and he leans into her ear. “Baby, I know you better than anyone, and you know it.” 

She almost feels herself turning, falling for it, more like muscle memory, but again she’s heard it all before. She shakes her head. She can’t this time. She reaches for the door. “I have to go.” 

As soon as she positions her hand on that doorknob, he makes one last attempt. He does know her is the problem. He knows exactly which strings to pull, what buttons to push, he knows what she wants to hear deep down inside, more than anything. 

“Waverly, I love you.” 

She freezes. Is she really so naïve to think he actually loves her? After 9 years of toying with her, he says it now? But he did say it, and she heard it. Despite her best efforts, it does something to her, like all his tricks do. 

She knows she doesn’t love him. She hasn’t since she was 16, but to be loved ? Now, that’s something she could love. If she stays, now for this, will she stay later? Will I love you trap her in this town that she so desperately wants to get away from? No. At least she hopes she’s not that stupid, that weak to throw her life away for a boner and a pickup. 

“I love you,” he repeats, and her hand falls from the doorknob. 

Chapter Text

Waverly didn’t mean for it to happen this way. Or, at least she didn’t really want it to. This is the last time she said, but it was the last time…last time too. 

Still, she always finds herself in the same miserable place, the lowest of the low, rock bottom.

Her key is still in the door. It’s unlocked, but she couldn’t bring herself to go in like this. Not when she feels so worthless and dirty.

She’s been staring at that cigarette for the better part of an hour, all crinkled up from where she jabbed it into the ashtray. The smell of smoke still haunts the air around her, and she can taste it on her tongue.

Everything is cold. The damp spring air, the wooden porch chair jabbing tiny slivers into the back of her legs, and the empty place in her chest she fills with excuses.

“It’s okay baby,” he mumbles against her skin while his lips press from the crook of her neck to the tip of her shoulder. “I love you.”  

Waverly shivers, and her fingers tremble, winding her shoelace tight around her finger. It’s swollen and purple and squeezes out between the gaps. It’s ugly.

Her tears drag scars down her cheeks and if they aren’t accumulating on her chin, they’re dripping in her hands. Her eyes sure as hell can’t accommodate any more. She doesn’t have to see them to know they’re red and puffy.

What did she expect to happen? She could have asked Nicole to come home with her, or she could have gone home alone, she could have done a million other things, but she didn’t. She went straight to him.

She sucks in a shaky breath and fights back a sob. No, she doesn’t get to cry over this. She did this to herself. It was her choice to crawl into bed with him again, and again, knowing exactly how she would feel after.

He said, I love you, and she wanted so badly to believe that someone one might love her. He loves me. That’s what she told herself as he was undoing the buttons on her blouse. She kissed him, but it was cold and meaningless.

Everything about him is cold—his words, his touch, and the space between them, when he has her. She could almost throw up from the scent of his aftershave clinging to her skin and her clothes. “God damn Waverly, what’s wrong with you?”

Nicole was right, Waverly’s no better than she is. Waverly’s a tease, and she uses Champ just as much as he uses her, but she’s the only one crying about it.

All that pretending builds in her chest like dry ice in a bottle, the ache swells until she’s shaking. It pours out of her, all of it in a heavy rush that takes her down. She slips from the chair to her knees, then to her elbows, and she’s lying on the porch with her body curled around her, gasping through tears. She might sink into this ground and never get up.

She’s too busy feeling sorry for herself to notice Nicole sneaking up on her bike.

“Waverly?”

“Fuck,” she whimpers, as inconspicuous as she can, and dabs at her cheeks with the sleeves of her blouse. That’s the last thing she needs right now, Nicole seeing her like this.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asks with notable concern. She stows her bike alongside the house, then her head comes bobbing around the screened in porch before she pushes through the door. It snaps shut behind her.

Waverly wiggles herself into a sitting position. She tries to ignore the residual pressure demanding release from her chest. Seeing Nicole makes the pressure worse, sharper, more like broken glass, because all she can see is Kevin tugging on Nicole’s button-up when she turns the corner.  “How’s your girlfriend?” she snaps with a bitter bite to her words.

Nicole doesn’t react to it. She squats and plucks at the Tootsie Pop wrapper caught under the door frame. “She’s not my girlfriend, anymore.” She crumples the wrapper in a fist and tucks it in her pocket.

“Oh.”

Her eyes raise slowly to meet Waverly’s. They’re dark, like root beer barrel candy, and bare an underlying sweetness. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

Waverly doesn’t answer at first. Her arms wobble to keep her upright, and she’s barely holding back another sob. How embarrassing. She shakes her head no, begging herself not to cry in front of Nicole.

Nicole duck walks across the deck and kneels in front of her. She combs back Waverly’s hair plastered to her tear stained cheeks. Waverly can hardly stand to face her.

“Why are you out here in the cold?” she says, in that voice like a lullaby. It can slow Waverly’s heart, and speed it back up again. Waverly shakes her head. She doesn’t want to admit how she stormed out of Ice Nine and into Champ’s bed, but she doesn’t have the energy to lie either.

“I-I went to Champ’s,” she confesses.

Nicole jerks away, as Waverly feared she would and sinks, sitting on the backs of her legs. “Oh.”

“Go ahead and say it! I know you want to.” Stop acting like you’re better than me because you’re not. She can hear it, repeating in her ears like it never stopped. Nicole sees her for what she is. We are the same.

“Say what?”

“Just call me a hypocrite, because I am! I know. I’m just-just disgusting.” She growls through clenched teeth. She’s not sure how it’s even possible that more tears are trailing down her cheeks. She might drown in them.

“Waves.” Nicole soothes.

Her fingers brush aside Waverly’s hair again, until she can study Waverly’s face and she cradles it in her hands. “I’m not going to call you a hypocrite…and you are definitely not disgusting…” She pauses, and makes sure Waverly’s paying attention. “Sweetheart, you are only human. Shit happens, right?” Nicole’s all dimples and big brown eyes. They swirl around Waverly like a big heavy coat and she’s not cold anymore.

She snorts. “I just yelled at you. You shouldn’t be nice to me.”

“I do it because I care. Okay?”

Waverly nods with a laugh. She sneaks her arms over Nicole’s shoulders and Nicole squeezes her around the waist, bringing her closer.

“I didn’t go home with her,” Nicole reveals.

 “Ick, don’t make me feel worse,” Waverly scoffs, and melts into Nicole’s arms. She could fall asleep like this with Nicole holding her and massaging gentle circles into her back, but Nicole has other plans.

“Here, I have an idea.” Nicole leans back on her heels and ducks her head to meet Waverly’s eyes. Waverly straightens herself out, still clinging to Nicole’s biceps for support.

Nicole rises to her feet dragging Waverly up with her.

“Do you trust me?”

Waverly hesitates, then nods.

The pool cast a blue glow over Nicole’s proud, dimpled face. She smiles wide and kicks her shoes to the side. Not too long ago, they were standing in this same spot, wearing tweed and lace. Nicole was the apprehensive one then, and Waverly was just a silly little girl, high off her fake wedding.

“What are we doing here?”

“We’re going to jump silly.” Nicole doesn’t wait for a response before plunging into the pool with a splash that sprinkles Waverly’s feet. She rushes up from its depth whipping her wet hair from her face when she bobs above the surface. “Come on!”

Waverly slips her shoes off with little enthusiasm and moves to the edge of the pool with her toes flexing over. Oh, how things have changed. She never thought in a million years Nicole would be the one trying to entice her into something so childish as this.

“Get in here.” Nicole summons with a wave of her hand. She leans, arms and legs straight out, and floats on her back.

Waverly dips her toe in. The waters cool in a comforting sort of way. She watches Nicole stroking her arms through the water beside her while she’s belly up, gracefully gliding around the pool. The movement is peaceful. Waverly relishes in the way Nicole’s skin gleams in the moonlight and the way the cool water pinkens her lips.

“I am going to baptize you,” Nicole jokes. “I will absolve you of all your sins.”

Waverly laughs. “Well, we’re going to be here a while.”

At that Nicole smiles and tucks her wet hair behind her ear. She treads a little closer to the pool edge, arms and legs frog-like. “Don’t make me come over there.”

Waverly gives her a stern look, like, don’t you dare, then launches off the tiled edge and splashes in front of Nicole. The water slaps her in the gut with ice, but she quickly adjusts. Nicole catches her and keeps her from plunging under.

“Alright, you ready?”

“To do what exactly?”

“Just repeat after me.”

She nods with uncertainty and her lower lip starts to tremble.

“I, Waverly Earp,” Nicole pauses, looking to Waverly expectantly as they both tread water to stay afloat, their knees colliding every so often.

Waverly rolls her eyes but plays along. “I, Waverly Earp.”

“Will never talk to Champ Hardy again, be that by text, phone, or verbal communication.”

“Nicole,” she scowls.

“Come on Waverly, the first step is the hardest.” Nicole says in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t be condescending.”

But Nicole just waits. Waverly grumbles in irritation. A little bit of water goes up her nose when she dips a little too low and it stings the back of her throat. “I will never talk to Champ Hardy through text, phone, or verbal communication.”

“And, I promise not to let douchebags determine my worth.”

Waverly grinds her teeth, feeling judged and exposed, but she repeats it.

“Last and most importantly, listen real close. From here on out, I commit to respecting and loving myself, the way I want others to respect and love me.”

“Hey!”

“Waverly, I’m only here to help.” Nicole’s cheeks blossom into a charming smile. The kind Waverly can’t resist.

She glares and repeats, each word chipping away at her chest, her lungs, and her heart. “From here on out, I commit to respecting and loving myself, the way I want others to respect and love me. There. Now what?”

Before she can say anything else, Nicole dunks her underwater and all Waverly can see is a white rush of bubbles coming from her nose and mouth in a sea of green. She burst up spitting and frantically pushing soaked hair from her eyes.

“Nicole!” she shouts and swivels around with her legs kicking under her. Nicole’s already halfway down the pool. She propels herself forward, kicking, and splashes after.

When she catches up, Nicole scoops her up, holds her close, and they’re both breathless. Nicole grins at her with wet glowing skin and water droplets hanging from her lashes. Waverly forgets about Kevin, and Champ, and PGE. All she notices is her wife’s big brown eyes scanning over her face, and those strong arms that she’s become familiar with, around her waist.

“Don’t smile at me like that,” Waverly insists, but she basks in it.

Nicole sticks out her lower lip in a frown that Waverly wants to kiss away. She considers it before Nicole launches them up and dunks them under when she comes down again. Chlorine rushes up Waverly’s nose and stings her eyes. She pops her head above water and shoots a stream from her mouth. It hits Nicole in the face.

Nicole backstrokes away. “You’re a brat.” She laughs.

“You sons of bitches! I know that’s you, Nicole Haught, and I have Sheriff Nedley on speed dial!” A familiar screeching voice bellows from the Pepto Bismol pink stucco house behind them.

“Shit.” Nicole laughs. She launches herself out of the pool, then tugs Waverly out after her. They leave behind a trail of wet footprints, and an irate Bunny Loblaw, giggling the whole way home.

The bathroom floor is rapidly flooding into one giant puddle. Water pools at their feet as it drips from their saturated clothes and sopping wet hair. Waverly wrings out her hair over the bathtub while Nicole peels off her socks.

Their giggling faded out when they reached the front porch and Nicole extracted Waverly’s key from the doorknob. She smirked a little at the unicorn key cap.

Waverly discards her blouse in the bathtub, with only a minor struggle yanking the first soaked sleeve over her elbow. She can still taste the chlorine on her lips. She can feel the coolness of the pool water rippling around her with every movement, and Nicole’s fingers in her hair, and on her face. Their bodies held together. The way Nicole can make her feel safe like no one else can.

Nicole fumbles with the buttons on her own shirt, her fingers aggressively pinching and pulling buttons. Waverly brushes her hands aside, and they gaze at each other, while Waverly works her way down Nicole’s shirt, one button at a time.

She’s seen, Nicole. She’s seen all of Nicole, but she still feels her cheeks get hot when Nicole shrugs off that button up and it joins Waverly’s blouse in the bathtub.

Waverly’s jeans follow immediately, after Nicole shimmies them down her legs, and Nicole’s belt clinks on the ceramic after Waverly rips it free of Nicole’s belt loops. One by one the remaining items fall to the tub with a wet slap until they’re both standing, still dripping, in their underwear.

Nicole’s still sports her red Tomboy Boxer briefs, and her hip bone is still sharp just above her waistband. Waverly can’t fight the burning need to brush her thumb over it. She doesn’t. She bites it back, and tries not to stare, but she has seen all of Nicole already. She could stare just a little. She could just…

Waverly reminds herself that Nicole can’t actually read her mind, but then Nicole goes and lifts Waverly’s hands to rest over her stomach, and it sure as hell seems like it. 

Her skin burns under Waverly’s palms, and her stomach flexes. Waverly smooths her hands up Nicole’s stomach, over her chest, and links her wrists behind Nicole’s neck. The action brings them close together, and Waverly’s heart beats against Nicole’s chest.

Nicole dips her head to meet Waverly’s, and Waverly’s fingers tangle in the soft hairs at the base of Nicole’s neck, and draws them even closer, bumping their noses together. She brushes her thumb over Nicole’s lower lip, and her tongue darts out over her own.

“I can’t,” Waverly sighs, and untangles herself from Nicole. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours since…and I need a minute, you know?”

“Of course, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s not because I don’t want to,” she adds shyly.

Nicole nods. “You go get some sleep. I’ll hang up all these wet clothes.”

Waverly brushes past Nicole to the door. She pauses over her shoulder. “Nicole…thank you.”

Nicole nods again.

Waverly strips her underwear and bra off immediately upon entering her room and she shuts the door. She sighs into bed and tucks herself in. She doesn’t feel scared anymore, and despite everything, Nicole has proven more than once that she’s there. Just down the hall, door open, if Waverly needs her. She smiles. Tonight, she’ll sleep alone, and tomorrow will be different.

***

“So, what exactly are you filming?”

“Us Waverly…duh.”

Nicole zips past and jabs a finger in Waverly’s ear. Waverly cringes and tucks her ear to her shoulder. She swats Nicole away, scowling. “Ugh, it’s too early for that…and you for that matter. Why are you so energized anyway?”

Nicole’s been on some kind of kick this morning. She got up way too early banging around in the back room. Waverly’s never been in that room. It’s locked so she couldn’t even sneak a peek.

“Vitamins,” Nicole says, and crushes the grape Monster in her fist with a devilish grin.

Waverly responds with an eye roll and drags her hands down her face, exhausted. Her head throbs and her throat’s dry. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she was hungover. She supposes that’s what happens when you cry out every last pathetic tear.

Nicole must notice, she doesn’t say anything, but she fills up a glass of water and inserts it in Waverly’s hand. “Thanks,” Waverly says suspiciously.

“Okay,” Robin butts in. “Now, everyone’s going to want to know what your life is like—”

“Why?” Nicole asks like that’s the dumbest thing in the world. Waverly wonders the same thing. It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to be a part of her life of subdued excitement. She hopes people get a kick out of her spilling stuff on her apron, as much as Nicole does.

“Because people like to feel they are a part of their favorite celebrities’ lives, and this is how we give them that illusion. They’ll eat it right up. So, we are going to be doing A day in the life of WayHaught, episode.”

“And what does that entail exactly?” Nicole continues, with increased agitation.

Waverly gulps down her glass of water, then shuffles to the pantry where she digs out a granola bar. Nicole pops up behind her, fridge wide open, and trades Waverly’s granola bar for an apple. Waverly shifts her eyes between the apple and Nicole’s innocent dimpled smile.

“Why are you being weird?” Waverly says slowly.

“I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Well, stop. It’s creeping me out.”

“Ladies. Derek is going to work with you, Waverly, and film your day from start to finish.”

“Gus will love that,” she huffs.

“And Nicole—”

Nicole shakes her head violently, hands cutting through the air in front of her. “Nah-uh, no way is someone following me around while I’m at work. I have important deliveries to make and I don’t need some noob on a mountain bike slowing me down.”

“Contract, Mrs. Haught,” Robin reminds.

She slumps against the counter with a pout all over her face and pivots her head in Waverly’s direction eyeing Waverly’s apple. “Are you going to eat that?”

Waverly shrugs indifferently. Nicole plucks it from her hand and crunches into with her teeth. Waverly blinks at her in utter shock. If it’s not candy coated and artificially colored, Nicole doesn’t eat it. “Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

Nicole stares blankly back at her and continues chewing, audibly.

“Dave here will come along with you Nicole. I am sure he can keep up with you just fine.”

Nicole snorts, and sinks her teeth into the apple again, a little more aggressively this time. The juice drips down her mouth. She wipes it away with the back of her hand while she sizes Dave up.

Dave’s scrawny, not like Derek, and ghostly pale, with large dark circles under his eyes. He’s creepy. Creepy Dave.

“Do you guys want to start by making breakfast?” Robin asks in his usually cheery tone that Waverly has learned to loathe more than almost anything else PGE related.

They both stare blankly at him. “Are you new here?” Nicole remarks.

“Alrighty then, what do you guys usually start with in your morning routines.”

Nicole leans her head toward Waverly, thinking, her eyes lighting up as they both reach the same conclusion.

“I’m first!” Nicole yells and bolts out of the kitchen. Waverly hightails it after her clawing into her back and yanking on her t-shirt.

“You’re always first, and you use up all the hot water!” Waverly shouts.

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

She squeezes under Nicole’s arm at the stair landing and leaps up the first few stairs, but Nicole has long arms and grabs Waverly by the seat of her shorts stalling her completely, arms flailing in front of her.

“Let go of me!”

“Is…this normal?” Robin says, soft and confused, watching from the foyer.

Nicole and Waverly pause to acknowledge him. Greasy Derek and Creepy Dave gawk at them, quizzical expressions on their faces. Like they've never had to fight for a bathroom before. Try growing up with Wynonna.

Waverly straightens out, adjusting her pajama shorts and plucking her hair from her face. Nicole casually gestures her up the stairs. “You guys aren’t gonna follow us into the bathroom, are you?” Nicole asks.

“Heavens no.” Robin shakes his head and laughs melodically. “Better let you guys do that on your own.”

Nicole shuts the door behind them. Waverly already has the water running. Their clothes still hang from the shower rod, only damp now. She yanks a few loose and tosses them in Nicole’s face playfully.

“Hey!” Nicole snaps and chucks them in the corner haphazardly.

“I’m-going-first,” Waverly spells out through tight lips.

Nicole glares, and blindly fumbles for her toothbrush and toothpaste. She smears a large glob across the bristles. Half of it oozes to the sink. Even when she jabs the toothbrush in her mouth and puts it into motion, she’s still glaring.

Waverly ignores her. She sheds her pajamas to her feet and kicks them in Nicole’s direction. She slips behind the curtain and dunks her head under the rushing water.

It’s when she wipes the water from her face that she notices a gap in the curtain. That heat spreads over her again across her chest, up her neck, and blossoms in her cheek, at Nicole’s reflection in the mirror. Her toothbrush slows mindlessly, thrusting in and out of her mouth, as with lusty golden eyes, Nicole stares. It burns in Waverly’s chest like honey whiskey, before their eyes even connect. Waverly’s lips part and she gasps.

Something in her tells her to keep going, to leave the gap in the curtain, and allow Nicole to watch her as she has stared at Nicole so many times before. Lavender and sage spreads over her in a sudsy coat as she lathers her skin. Just under the hot water lines track through the bubbles quickly carrying them away.

The more Waverly lathers, the sudsier she gets, the slower Nicole brushes, until her toothbrush halts all together caught between clenched teeth. A foamy bit of drool drips from her lips and splats in the sink. She snaps out of her haze at that, and quickly wipes her chin with an embarrassed pink to her cheeks.

Nicole spits in the sink, rinses, and dries her mouth. She keeps her eyes in the mirror, still, a little bit distracted.

“My turn,” she states with a note of suggestion that makes Waverly shiver.

Waverly makes sure she’s not sudsy, and they trade places. She wraps herself up in a towel and takes her place at the sink, careful to avoid the mirror and those golden eyes that turn her brain to mush.

Robin, Greasy, and Creepy all wait downstairs on the couch. They stampede to the foyer when Nicole and Waverly slump down the stairs, neither enthused about “A day in the life of WayHaught.”

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” Robin chuckles.

Nicole takes one look at them and barrels through the door, both screen doors smacking shut in her wake. Before Dave can even straddle his bike with a camera mounted to the handlebars, Nicole’s halfway down the street.

Waverly glances at Derek. She follows Nicole’s tracks, snatches her keys off the counter, and makes a run for her car. She might have been able to outrun Derek and his camera if she didn’t freeze in the walkway, distracted by something.

Nicole’s helmet lies carelessly in the grass next to the sprinkler head. Smokey the Bear is buried face down in the grass.

“She isn’t wearing her helmet,” Waverly mutters. She collects the helmet under her arm and marches to the car, yanking the door open unnecessarily hard, and slamming it shut again. Derek clambers into the passenger seat.

The air conditioning takes forever to kick in as per usual, and by the time Waverly’s halfway to work she’s sweating, but she’s not going to work. Not yet. She has a pit stop to make.

By now, she has Nicole’s route memorized. Not because she’s a stalker-like Nicole yelled at her that one time, but because half of her route is on the way to Eden’s, and the other half is…well, it’s just a coincidence that she kept running into Nicole at various businesses. She really isn’t a stalker.

“Uh…don’t you work at Eden’s?” Derek asks in a weaselly little voice. Waverly gives him a funny look. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him talk. 

“I do, but I have to bring this helmet to Nicole before her stupid head ends up splattered like a watermelon all along the side of the road.”

“Gotcha.”

It doesn’t take long to find Nicole zipping in and out of traffic like it’s nothing. Every last minute decision she makes launches Waverly’s heart into her throat.

Traffic in Purgatory is not particularly heavy, but everyone living in Purgatory works on Main Street, so the mornings can be a bit of a nightmare. Waverly does her best to make her way through the thick flow of traffic and get Nicole’s attention. She nearly pees her pants when she catches Nicole weaving and dodging her way through an intersection, oncoming cars barely missing her bike tires.

“What the hell is she doing?” She glances over at Derek wide-eyed and riled up. “Did you see that? She didn’t even stop!”

“Cool.” He says like a teenage boy. His camera pans between Evel Knievel, and Waverly’s reaction to her insane tricks. 

Waverly is not impressed at the way Nicole zips along, moving with the bike like it’s a part of her. Insane. Dangerous. “It’s like she’s playing Frogger…but in real life!”

Waverly slams her foot on the gas pedal, swerving around the next three cars. Someone honks. She ignores it, eyes trained on Nicole.

“Why doesn’t she just use the bike lane like a normal person?” Waverly continues to gripe to Derek. She swerves around a familiar black van, giving it a double take, before returning all her focus to Nicole.

All she can think about is the Purgatory Chronicle article highlighting the number of pedestrians and bikers struck down by cars on Main Street. It’s dangerous, and she’s told Nicole that, and she’s told Nicole to wear a helmet.

Finally, Nicole swings into the bike lane and catches Waverly out of the corner of her eye. Waverly leans over Derek, the car wavers, and shouts out the window. “You forgot your helmet!”

Nicole’s forehead creases and she shakes her head. Her legs work harder to propel the bike forward away from Waverly’s Jeep.

“That little fucker.” Waverly floors it past Nicole and cranks the wheel, tires squealing she stops in the middle of the bike lane, cutting Nicole off.

Nicole’s eyes grow wide and her bike skids to a stop, back end swinging.

“Waverly, what the hell!”

Waverly erupts out of the Jeep and marches around the front end in a tiny tornado of feistiness. “Nicole Haught, you forgot your helmet.”

“Waverly, this is my job!”

Waverly ignores her and fits the helmet to her head. “You are going to get killed riding around like that. What’s the matter with you?”

“The only danger to me right now is you. You can’t just abruptly pull off into the bike lane! What if I couldn’t stop?”

“You weren’t thinking about that when you flew through the intersection, were you?”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job!”

Waverly ignores her again, only to push the helmet up Nicole’s forehead and peck her on the lips. “I’ll see you at eight. Keep your damn helmet on.”

When Waverly peers out her review mirror Nicole’s still blinking, standing frozen in the same spot. Waverly smiles.

***

“What did I tell you about having those cameras in here?” Gus snarls and gestures disapprovingly to Derek shadowing Waverly around Eden’s. He squeezes himself tight to the wall, staying out of the way the best he can with his camera.

“I’m sorry Aunt Gus, Mr. Gardner said it was okay. As much as I wish I did, I have no say in this,” Waverly shrugs. She darts past Gus behind the register. Derek monitors her every move. She can feel the camera’s judgy little lens like it’s touching her.

The door chimes, Waverly doesn’t have to look up to know whose Tim’s are swaggering over. Nicole clears her throat in a theatrical manner when she reaches the register. Waverly doesn’t rush to take her order. It’s unnecessary really. Waverly stretches and rolls out some of the tension from her shoulders. She’s been hunched over all morning opening boxing and stocking supplies.

Creepy Dave lingers behind Nicole, practically up her ass. She has her helmet clipped to her messenger bag and the mark on her neck is extra red this morning.

Judging by the dark eyes and frowny mouth, she’s still hanging on to their earlier confrontation. Waverly decides to smile for the cameras. She bats her eyes at Nicole with her arms draped over the register in a flirty way. “Do you want your usual, Sugarbear?”

Nicole’s eyes instantly lighten and a smile peeks at the corners of her lips. She moves closer until their faces almost meet. “You know it, Sweet Cheeks.”

Nicole loves games. Games that Waverly hates. Games that Waverly enjoys, and games that Waverly is really not sure about yet. Nicole will engage in any game, anytime, and Waverly has learned to use this to her advantage.

“No smooching at the register,” Gus grunts. She bags up Nicole’s scone before Waverly has a chance to ring it up. Nicole slides her money across the counter and snatches her breakfast off the counter.

“Sit with me,” Nicole requests, and smirks over her shoulder, “love of my life?”

Waverly darts a glance at Gus mumbling about invasion of privacy and shoving things around on the counter. “Aunt Gus?”

“10 minutes. The trash isn’t going to walk itself to the dumpster. Ah geez, someone got something sticky all down the side of it. Toffee syrup by the smell of it. That’s all you girly.”

Waverly grins at Nicole who leads the way to her table with the company of Dave and Derek. Nicole sheds her jacket and situates herself with her scone. She immediately bends back the tab to the Monster, and Waverly ingests the vitamin flavored grape as it fizzles out. Nicole digs into the paper bag and breaks her scone in half. She hands Waverly half.

Waverly narrows her eyes but accepts it.

“Waverly, I’ll wear the helmet, but you can’t go chasing me around while I’m at work.”

“Will you be more careful?”

“No,” she says flatly.

Waverly scoffs and shoves the lemon scone in her mouth. It’s no use explaining what she’s already explained to Nicole. Nicole’s a stubborn ass and she’ll just do what she wants anyway. Her eyes dart off to Derek in the background, kneeling by the table behind Nicole. She's not sure how she's supposed to get used to this, being watched all the time.

“I have to meet with Dr. Svane today,” Nicole states casually.

“That’s weird. I have a private session with him today too. I wonder what he wants?”

Nicole shrugs and slurps up her Monster.

“What exactly did he say to you last time? You, know with the waitress…Scarlet.”

A sly grin stretches over one side of Nicole’s face while she chews in concentration. “He told me that he paid you to start a fight on our date.” She sets her scone down and chuckles. “He didn’t think you’d do it. In fact, he was almost certain you wouldn’t.”

Waverly’s body caves in on itself. Her knees come together, her fists clench, her lungs deflate. Heat rises to her cheeks. 

“So, he told me to give you fuel. He asked me to do whatever it takes to get you to finally snap.”

“Why?” Waverly asks. She glances around at the cameras and the people nearby, worried Nicole is going to get herself in trouble.

“Because that guy’s a loon Waverly. Don’t take anything he does or says seriously.” Nicole leans forward on the table and drops her voice to almost a whisper. “Haven’t you noticed; he doesn’t have any certifications on the walls.”

“So.”

“Have you looked around his office. His psychology books are either ancient, unethical, or irrelevant. He’s a crook. He’s probably not even a licensed therapist.”

“But...”

Nicole dismisses her and relaxes in her chair with one arm draped over the back. She nods and winks to Derek.  “Don’t worry Waverly. It’s just for the show. Just…play along.”

“10 minutes is up Waverly!” Gus hollers.

Waverly sighs, still bristling with questions. “I’ll see you at home, I guess.”

She slides from her chair, shoulders tense, and trudges across the coffee shop, Derek trails behind her. Her personal stalker. She nearly makes it to the register before she runs into him, creeping just inside the doorway.

“Waverly!” Champ exclaims.

She startles and takes a brisk step back. “No. I am working.”

Aunt Gus charges over waving a brown tinged cloth, before he can say anything. “You get out of here young man! This business reserves the right to refuse service to assholes, and you are an asshole.”

“Cool it!” he spits. “Waverly, you left so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”

Waverly can feel it, whatever magic that laces his voice, and boils her down. But she made a vow to herself, and he’s not welcome anymore. “Well, you said it now, goodbye.”

She side-steps around him, and he takes hold of her wrist as she passes. “Just hang on a second.”

She spins around, but doesn’t get a chance to say another word. Nicole barrels towards them, tugging her jacket over her shoulders, cheeks so red, there are flames in her eyes. Champ hardly gets one blink at her before she clobbers him with her fist, and he falls hard on his ass.

Derek looms over him with his camera watching him squirm, while Dave pans between everyone else.

“Fuck,” Nicole cries out, and clutches her hand to her body. She shoots Waverly a pained look. Waverly, completely bemused, slack-jawed, frozen, is at a loss for words. Sure, Nicole punched Champ that one time, but this…was epic.

“Sorry,” Nicole says.

She vaults over Champ, burst through the door, and throws her leg over her bike. She’s gone before Waverly can find her voice again. Creepy Dave is left standing on the sidewalk.

“Fuck, Waverly, the bitch broke my nose again.”

Waverly’s gaze falls to him. His nose dripping down to his shirt. He has hand cupped over his face, and Waverly’s not sorry.

“The bitch is my wife,” she says and whips back around to work.

Champ gets himself together and scrambles out of there.

***

His office does feel cold, rather clinical with its leather couch and clean tidy surfaces. There’s a mirror on the wall and replica of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, but no certifications. No college degrees, nothing that suggests Dr. Svane is a licensed psychiatrist.

And his books. Waverly can’t read the titles of the ones on the back shelf, but she notices a new one in the stack on his desk. The Stanford Prison Experiment, by Gabriel Dischereit. Maybe Nicole is right, and Dr. Svane really is a fraud, but why would PGE pick him for the show?

“Well, Waverly, where should we start?” he says, and settles into his leather chair across from her. One leg crosses the other and his hands fold in his lap.

“Why don’t you have any certificates on your walls?”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline, and his tongue flicks out wetting his bottom lip. “Excuse me?”

“What school did you graduate from? Why do you have a book about being a con artist on your desk?”

Dr. Svane drags his nails through the hair covering his chin and jaw. His hands drop to his lap again and he dissects Waverly with his eyes. “We are not here to talk about me. Let’s go back to you. How are things with Nicole? Last time we spoke—”

“Last time we spoke you handed me two thousand dollars to throw a drink…two drinks in Nicole’s face.” Waverly argues.

He chuckles dismissively and fidgets with his glasses, refitting them to his face. “Now Waverly, I think you may have misunderstood. I simply asked you—”

“Cut the shit, Dr. Svane…if you even are a doctor. What is it that you want this time?”

He leans back in his chair with a sinister smirk on his face. “I see. First, I want you to tell me about Nicole’s relationship with…” He slips a yellow notepad from his side table, and flips through the top few pages. He nods, pleased. “.…Kevin?”

Waverly’s done thinking about Kevin, and her stupid smug face when Nicole introduced Kevin as her girlfriend. “I have nothing to say about that.”

“No?”

“No.”

He nods, but Waverly gets the feeling he's laughing at her. “Maybe you would rather talk to Nicole about your feelings?” Dr. Svane produces a photograph tucked under a page from his notepad and slides it across the table. “People can only hide for so long Waverly, but the camera sees everything.”

Waverly scoots to the edge of the leather couch and hovers over the table to examine it.

Her jaw drops. It’s clear as day, Kevin pinned between the wall and Nicole’s hands and lips. It’s worse in a photo.

Waverly springs to her feet, fists clenched, ready to fight. “What kind of game is this! You think you can manipulate me with a photograph?”

“Settle down Waverly, this is merely a product of your wife’s indiscretions. I am only asking you to face your true feelings.”

He’s so calm, and collected, like he’s done this before, countless times. Waverly’s sure that he has. If he wasn’t so blatantly inappropriate, he could probably get anyone to do anything with all his manipulative bullshit.

Waverly drops back to the unforgiving couch with little bounce. She clears her throat, her tongue flicks out wetting her lip, and she asks again, “What do you want?”

He smirks and reaches into a briefcase under the side table. He fishes out a brick of cash and slaps it on the table. “All you have to do, is tell Nicole how you feel. How you really feel.”

That hardly seems worth another two thousand. She eyes him suspiciously.“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Tell her anytime or anywhere. It’s up to you.”

Waverly doesn’t trust him in his ambiguous nature. What chaos is he building towards? Who is he building it for? Nicole's voice whispers in the back of her mind. It's just for show...play along.

“Deal.”

***

Waverly finds Nicole lounging in her usual spot on the couch with a book propped up in her lap. She has her hand under a bag of Otter Pops and a bottle of Jameson on the coffee table. Waverly rolls her eyes. Honestly, this girl. Waverly's surprised she's even survived this long with all her ridiculousness. She swings by the couch and snatches up the Otter Pops on her way to the kitchen. Nicole turns around and calls after her.

“Hey!”

Waverly throws the popsicles back in the freezer, grabs a Ziplock bag, fills it with ice, and wraps it up in a washcloth. She returns with it to the living room. Nicole discarded her book to the floor and stretched out her long legs across the couch. Her lower lip sticks out in a cute little pout.

Waverly swats at Nicole’s legs until she moves them aside, but not without a fuss. She gently elevates Nicole’s knuckles and examines the bruising. They’re a little red with a little purple forming at the points of the joints, but they’re not too bad, Waverly decides, resting the makeshift ice pack on them. “There.” Nicole hisses at the new sensation. 

“That was really stupid,” Waverly scolds.

Nicole frowns and retracts her hand.

“And kind of sweet.”

“I’m sorry…but I’m not sorry…he has a really punchable face,” Nicole protests.

Waverly chuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me anyway.”

Waverly eyes the bottle of Jameson. After a day like this, she could use a drink. Turns out having cameras follow her around all day is, hard, and exhausting. Gus was exhausting with all her complaints and demands. Waverly had to do twice the amount of work as usual. Then Champ, and Dr. Svane, and that photo. Oh yeah, she could use a drink. She struggles to reach the bottle on the table, arm stretched out, fingers straining. Nicole snickers and nudges it into her hands.

“I could have got it.” She feigns annoyance, fingers wrapping around it. She brings it close and unscrews the cap.

“Alright, give it back then.”

Waverly shakes her head and hums. She takes the bottle to her lips. The moment the whiskey burns her tongue her face scrunches up in disgust. “Ick, how are you just drinking this like it’s root beer?”

“Years worth of practice, sweetheart,” Nicole smirks and takes the bottle. She swallows it down like it’s nothing before leaving it on the table again. Drinking is not a skill Waverly inherited. Not like Daddy. Not like Wynonna. Even Gus can take a shot without a hint of discomfort.

“How’d your appointment go, with Dr. Svane?” Nicole pries.

An immediate bitter burn settles in Waverly’ belly with that one drop of whiskey she let sneak down her throat. That photo comes to mind first. Kevin’s fingers tangled in Nicole’s shirt. Their lips connected. She can’t drink that away. “I asked him about his certificates…he dodged the question.”

“Of course, he did. He’s not going to admit he’s a fraud.” Nicole shifts into a sitting position with her legs folded in front of her. She tucks her hair behind one ear.

Waverly shrugs, and reaches for the bottle again. It’s not any better the second time.

“What did he ask you to do?” Nicole asks. She searches Waverly's face, and sighs at her hesitation. “Come on, they're no cameras.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you. It’s my task.”

“Do you want to know what he asked me to do?”

Waverly gazes at Nicole with curiosity pumping through her veins. Wouldn't that be breaking the rules? Are there any rules at all? No one said they couldn't tell each other. What happens if they do? Of course, she wants to know, but honestly, she’s scared to know.

“Yes. Tell me.” she leans in as if to hear a secret.

Nicole nods and keeps firm eye contact. “He had a photo of you…” Waverly's heart picks up speed. She has a good idea of what Nicole’s going to say next. “With Champ.”

“Like outside? I met him at his apartment…how do they even know?”

Nicole shakes her head and swallows back something else. “I don’t know Waverly, but it’s out there.” 

Her eyes start burning. Tears spill into her lower lashes. Waverly’s afraid to even ask. “Okay, so what does he want?”

“He wants me to talk about it, in our next interview. He wants me to say it, that I found the photo, and that you were having an affair with your ex-boyfriend.”

“He showed me a photo too. With Kevin.”

Nicole nods. “I expected as much.”

“What do we do?”

“I was thinking…Dr. Svane is here I’d say—more for drama than actual help…we could give him all kinds of drama. We could use this to our advantage.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s putting us in positions to hurt each other for the sake of television. We can accept his money…do his stupid little tasks…but we don’t have to hurt each other to do it. We just…pretend.”

“Okay. So, we pretend.”

"We pretend.” Nicole echoes, then she takes the Jameson to her lips and swallows hard. She hisses and returns it to the table.

“Should we kiss on it?” Nicole says with a smirk,

Waverly scoffs and palms her in the face. “You wish.”

 ***

“Jesus! Wear a bell or something!” Waverly snaps.

Nicole rolls her eyes and scoots over for Eliza. She has a habit of appearing, as if out of thin air. The surprise puts Waverly on edge, and it appears to the same to Nicole. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”

“What’s the bad news?” Waverly asks, dread already settling in her stomach, and trembling in her bones. More surprises.

Eliza drops a stack of entertainment magazines on the table with a smack. “Good news is, you have made the cover of three mainstream media magazines, and the Purgatory Chronicle.”

“And the bad news?”

Eliza taps the cover of the topmost magazine. Waverly leans in to read it, her eyes grow wide in horror. It’s the photo Dr. Svane showed her. She flips to the page of the article with shaking fingers and reads.

“Nicole Haught (28), a contestant on the hit show The Newlyweds, was caught with a mystery woman inside the popular nightclub Ice Nine. Wife, Waverly Earp (23), was sighted storming out of the club after reportedly catching Haught in the act. Friends of the couple state that Haught has been in an on-and-off-again affair with the unidentified woman for over year.”

“What friends?” Nicole demands.

Eliza doesn’t acknowledge her. She flips up the next magazine and covers the first. Waverly’s eyes grow even wider.

“Waverly Earp, one half of the popular reality TV couple, known as WayHaught by fans, was photographed sneaking out of ex-boyfriend, Champ Hardy’s apartment. This incident happened just a day before he and Earp’s wife, Nicole Haught, were wound up in a violent entanglement.”

“Violent entanglement?” Nicole snarls. What was left of her scone is mere crumbs on the table, mutilated in a fit of hostility. “That makes it sound like I pulled a knife on him…though I should have…punk.”

“The Newlyweds executive producers is very impressed with your poor choices. You are surpassing the other contestants in the drama department by far already.” Eliza applauds.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted in life,” Nicole says, sarcasm brimming over her lips.

“Well, what do we do? None of this is true…I—”

Eliza slams her hand on the table and drills into Waverly like Judge Judy on steroids. No sympathy. No weakness. Just pure domination. “You’re saying you weren’t leaving Champ Hardy’s house?”

“I was but—”

“Did you not go to Ice Nine and find Nicole with another woman?”

“I did but—”

“I don’t see the problem here Waverly. You signed up for reality TV. Can you name a single reality TV show that is all sunshine and rainbows?”

“Well, no I just…”

“That’s right, because nobody wants to watch that. This is good for ratings. It’s good for the show. If the CEO is happy, I’m happy, and if I’m happy, you’re happy. Got it?”

Waverly nods, wordlessly, as if Eliza sucked them all out with a vacuum.

“Good.”

Eliza strolls away, leaving behind the stack of magazines on the table. The photo of Waverly outside Champ’s front door is a real slap in the face. She wishes she could say it wasn't true. She wishes she had better evidence to deny it, but Dr. Svane said it, the cameras see everything.

“I don’t like this,” Waverly says, staring at the covers, the images, feeling invaded. Harrassed even.

Nicole shrugs and plays with the tab on her Monster until it wiggles free and drops in the empty can.

“This doesn’t bother you? They have these pictures. You don’t suppose Dr. Svane did this?”

Nicole shrugs again, obviously checked out from this conversation, and stares out the window. Waverly follows her gaze to the black van parked across the street. It appears to be empty this time. She takes a quick glance up the street as far as she can see, but no signs of the driver or a camera. It gives her all kinds of creepy sensations. She shakes it off. One demon at a time.

“Aren’t you worried people are going to think you’re some kind of sexual deviant? A cheater?”

Now her eyes flash to Waverly and the Monster can crunches in her tightening fist. “That picture does nothing but prove what people already think of me. Why should I care if America thinks of me the same way Purgatory has for years? You’re the one who has something to worry about. Perfect little Waverly isn’t so perfect after all.”

“Stop patronizing me! I was just asking you a question. You don’t have to be all defensive and angry.”

Nicole softens. She releases the destroyed Monster can and reaches a hand to Waverly’s, placing it on her arm lightly. “You’re right I’m sorry. All I know is, it’s not just PGE following us out there." Nicole nods to the black van. "All the more reason than ever to stick to our plan. Okay?”

Waverly covers Nicole’s hand with her own and tucks her fingers underneath. “Okay.”

“We still on for tonight?”

Waverly nods. Nicole smirks again. “Should we—”

“No,” Waverly interrupts. “Maybe later,” she adds shyly.

***

“Just let it all out okay? For practice. We have to make it believable when Robin gets here,” Nicole says.

Waverly nods, cupping a mug of cold tea. She didn’t bother to heat up the water. She was too nervous. “I got it.”

“Okay, and action. Where were you the other night Waverly?” Nicole demands.  “Look at me!”

 The words pummel her like waves, real or not. They rehearse it. Nicole told her what to do. Do exactly what Dr. Svane instructed. To get it off her chest. Scream it out. Waverly doesn't know if she can do it. She's definitly not sure she can do it with a camera pointed at her face.

“I was with Chrissy.” Her voice wavers.

“Stop lying! Stop feeding me all your little bullshit about you being over him. And about you caring about me! Stop-- I can’t stand any more of it!”

Nicole snatches Waverly’s mug and it shatters against the wall, cold tea puddles on the floor. “Nicole…that was my mug,” Waverly whines.

“Sorry. I’ll get you a new one…keep going.”

Waverly casts another glance at the ruined mug littering the floor. It was her favorite. “You want to talk about lying?” She starts building it up inside, thinking about Kevin, and Scarlet, and all of Nicole’s snarky comments, until she’s ready to blow. “How about we talk about you and your little girlfriend! How long has that been going on Nicole? A year? Two years?” Waverly stammers.

Nicole’s face turns a little pink in her cheeks, and her eyes go shark black. Waverly remembers, Nicole’s a good actor, but she still struggles to tell the difference. She gives Waverly a little nod of encouragement.

“So? Are you gonna answer me?” Waverly recites.

“How about we just admit you revenge fucked Champ?”

Waverly reels back. “Okay…ow. That one hurt a little bit.”

“Oh, sorry. Too much?”

“Just…tone it down a couple of notches.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I don’t think I can. I kind of lost my momentum now.”

“Me too." Waverly says. Getting those words out, screaming at Nicole, it rid her of some kind of poison that was burning her up inside, and now it's gone. "I feel better actually…good even.”

“I don’t want to yell at you anymore.”

“So, is that it? Do you think that will work?” Waverly asks hopefully.

“I don’t know.” Nicole smiles and burst into laughter, it’s contagious. Waverly laughs too. They fall into each other and tumble to the couch while tears stream down their cheeks, breathless.

Nicole smiles against Waverly’s cheek and nuzzles against it, until Waverly faces her, and their lips connect. Nicole’s hands caress her hips, and Waverly’s fingers weave through red hair. Her heart skips a beat here...thump…and adds an extra there…thump-thump. Waverly relaxes into Nicole’s touch, and everything truly melts away.

“I’m sorry.” Nicole whispers against Waverly’s lips. “That I didn’t tell you everything.”

“I’m sorry too.” Waverly says. The words spill out of her in a sudden rush of relief. She smiles and claims Nicole's lips again.

***

“Alright ladies, just like we did with the “A day in the life of”, episode…we are just going to film you around the house. So, just do what you do normally. I’ll stop you when we need a retake or a better angle. Just act natural,” Robin instructs.

Both Derek and Dave occupy the living room from opposite corners. Calamity Jane really doesn’t like Dave. She peed on his camera bag when he first arrived, and blatantly attacked his leg. Nicole had to lock her up in the bedroom. Every few minutes you can hear her yowling in displeasure.

Nicole leans into Waverly as she heads to the kitchen. “You ready?” she whispers.

Waverly nods.

“Okay.”

“I am going to get some tea. Do you want anything?” Waverly asks, just like rehearsal.

Nicole grunts.

After Waverly disappears into the kitchen Nicole sneaks a peek at Waverly’s phone and immediately snatches it up panic and concern all over her face. Waverly peers at her through the opening in the kitchen wall and waits for her cue.

“Uh, Waverly…can you come in here for a second, please?”

Waverly wanders out, appearing as oblivious as she can for the camera homing in on Nicole, casually holding a mug of cold tea. This time, not her favorite mug.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“What is this?” Nicole holds the phone out to Waverly. Waverly feigns guilt and panic at the text message of a smiley Chrissy sent earlier.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just—”

“What it is, is a text message from that little shit. Waverly, I thought we were past this!”

Waverly shakes her head wildly as the camera pans to her face, cheeks pink from embarrassment. “We are. I’m sorry. It’s not what it looks like.”

“Don’t lie to me, Waverly! I’m getting really sick of all your little bullshit about you being over him. I can hardly look at you right now.”

Waverly swallows, her mouth’s getting dry, and she can’t take a sip of this cold tea, because she’s afraid she’ll choke. She’s not brave like Nicole, she can’t act, and pretend, and play. Nicole makes it look so easy.

Nicole snatches Waverly’s mug and it shatters against the wall, and once again cold tea puddles on the floor.

“You want to talk about lying? How about we talk about you and your little girlfriend! How long has that been going on Nicole? Huh? A year? Two years?”

 “Hmm…” Robin says. “How about we try that last line again. Let’s say three years…oh and Derek can you move around and get Nicole from that angle over there. Really zoom in on her face for this."

“Okay…start from how long.”

“How long has this been going on Nicole? A year? Two? Three fucking years?!”

Nicole stands stiff, with her eyes all dark and brooding, egging Waverly on, feeding her with encouragement.

“So? Are you gonna answer me?” Waverly demands, really getting into it this time.

“Hmm…that’s not working.” Robin hums. “Derek, move to face Waverly a little better and we’ll get that again, but with her face. We can patch it together later. Feel free to really let go Nicole. You’re both doing fantastic. This is not what I expected but...I like where this is going.”

“I don’t think I can be with you anymore Waverly. Honestly! What were you thinking? Am I always the last person you consider?”

“Oh, that’s just rich coming from you!”

“You know what! Fuck you!” Nicole stomps off into the foyer. She pauses on the stairs. “I think you should leave.” 

 “Fine! I’m staying at Chrissy’s! Don’t follow me.”

Waverly charges past Nicole and slams the door shut behind her. Once the cool air hits her she laughs to herself, and runs to her Jeep.

She waits around the corner with the headlights off until Robin and the others disappear down the street, then she pulls back up into the driveway.

Nicole greets her at the door with her hand up waiting for Waverly to hi-five her. Waverly does. They both laugh at the chaos of it all. What will the tabloids say about them now?

“I think we did it.” Nicole grins. “See that wasn’t so bad.”

Waverly laughs. “Not so bad.”

She lets Nicole wrap Waverly up in her arms, and for once, everything feels like it’s going to be okay. As long as they work together.

***

Waverly tiptoes her fingers along Nicole’s side, and when she reaches the ticklish spot just under Nicole’s lower ribs, she revels in the way Nicole’s abdomen tightens. Nicole doesn’t say anything. She continues her own affections brushing her hand lightly up and down Waverly’s shoulder, while absently staring at the ceiling.

They don’t usually cuddle this way, they’re spooners, but after fighting, after the way Nicole kissed her, Waverly will soak up any opportunity to touch Nicole again. Nicole doesn’t seem to mind the way Waverly’s tucked herself under her arm or how Waverly’s head rests on her chest. It’s definitely not something Waverly is used to, but she could get used to it.

There is one thing, however, that keeps popping into her mind when her fingers reach the highest point on Nicole’s ribs, just under her bra. That symbol inked in skin with all its secrets, and the frustration that swells in her gut when no one will give her any answers.

“Nicole?”

Nicole hums in response, but keeps her focus on the ceiling, as she has been for almost an hour.

“Are you ever going to tell me about this tattoo?”

Her hand stops its movement over Waverly's shoulder and her stomach tightens. It doesn’t relax this time.

Waverly rolls her eyes up at Nicole, her expression unchanged, and repeats. “Nicole?”

“Waverly.” Nicole says back with zero note to her voice.

Waverly props up on one arm to get her attention. Her hand flattens against Nicole’s ribs, to offer comfort. “Why can’t I know? It’s not like you’re a gangster or a cult member, right?” 

Nicole’s eyes shifts to Waverly, still expressionless, cold even. “What if I am?”

Sharp little needles ripple through Waverly’s body at the thought. She studies Nicole’s face and narrows her eyes as she tries to get a read on the emptiness there. Nicole can’t be. She can’t be, because Wynonna has the same tattoo, and Wynonna’s not either of those things. Wynonna may have been a hooligan growing up, but she’s not a thug, and she’s not a brainwashed idiot either. So, Nicole can’t be.

Waverly doesn’t answer and Nicole returns to her entertainment of the night. Waverly’s fingers return to Nicole’s ribs, specifically over the tattoo, tracing out all the branches and curves. What if she is?

Nicole has an attitude, and can be a real dick sometimes, but Waverly has seen the sweetness inside too. She’s felt it wrapped around her in a hug, or a cuddle. Tasted it in a kiss. Whatever Nicole is, she’s not bad. Waverly refuses to believe that.

Waverly drops to her elbows and shimmies further down the bed, so that she’s eye level with the tattoo. She examines it. It’s just a symbol. People get silly little symbols tattooed on themselves all the time. Maybe it was some kind of Juvenile Detention fad, a cliché.

But, Nicole’s apathetic response does nothing to confirm her theory, or invalidate her concerns. If it was just a fad, why do she and Wynonna refuse to talk about it?

 “Okay, I’ll tell you,” Nicole breathes out.

Her eyes are still cold, distant, but, she won’t look directly at Waverly. She adjusts herself in a seated position and Waverly sits up to mirror her.

“When I was thirteen, my best friend and I were playing in the woods, late at night. It was dark, and creepy…and I dared her to climb the stairs, but when we got there, there were all these men dressed in heavy robes and they were burning something.” Her nose wrinkles up at the memory. “It reeked of death.”

Waverly rubs her hands up and down Nicole’s upper arms, to offer some form of comfort, while she speaks. “We tried to run away, but this big lumberjack of a man…Raymond…caught us. He took us to his boss…” She shakes her head. “Anyway…his boss told us if we were going to live, we had to earn it…”

“What does that mean?”

“He made us work for him, both of us…stealing cars, mostly.”

“Why didn’t you tell Sheriff Nedley, so he could have protected you?”

“We couldn’t,” she snaps. “He threatened the people we loved most…if we told…he-he threatened my grandpa.” She shakes her head again. Waverly notices the tears building in her eyes and the tremble of her lip. “My friend got caught…I was supposed to be the lookout, but I got distracted…and she was caught trying to hotwire a car. She went to juvie and it’s all my fault.” A few tears scale down her cheeks, and she sniffles."It only got worse Waverly."

“Hey,” Waverly cups her face. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

 “He marked us. All of us.”

“All of you?”

“All of ‘his children.’” 

Waverly thinks back to Ice Nine. The tattoo on Kevin's wrist. “Kevin?”

Nicole nods. "Her too."

"Was she your friend...the one who went to juvie?"

Nicole shakes her head and picks at the hem of her boxer briefs.

“You were just a kid, Nicole. You didn’t have a choice. It’s okay now, isn’t it?”

She smiles weakly. She envelops Waverly in her arms, squeezing her close, and nestling her face into the crook of Waverly’s neck.

Waverly combs her fingers through Nicole’s hair as they sit in silence. Occasionally Nicole presses warm lips to Waverly’s shoulder, her neck, or her collarbone.

 “I’ve never told anyone that,” Nicole admits quietly against Waverly’s skin. "Never."

That tattoo still nags at her. Wynonna has that tattoo. It keeps playing over and over. Wynonna has it. It all starts to muddle around in her brain. Nicole. The tattoo. Kevin. Marked. Wynonna.

Waverly claps her hands against Nicole’s chest lightly to get her attention. Nicole sits back so Waverly can see her face. She knows. She didn't want to believe it when Nicole started talking, but she understands now.

“Wait…” She tries to catch her breath. Trying to get the nerve to ask what she wants to ask. “He threatened your grandpa?” is what comes out first.

“Yes,” Nicole confirms.

Waverly’s chest aches, but they hate each other. They've always hated each other. Her stomach dips into the abyss and goosebumps spread all over. “And your friend…he threatened her too?”

“Yes.” Nicole says expressionless, as she watches Waverly put everything together, waiting for Waverly to asks the right question before she'll answer.

“Who…who did he threaten your friend with?”

“You.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, asshole!” Waverly shouts, and slams the Jeep door shut. Wynonna pauses on the front steps to the Homestead. She peers over her shoulder at her little sister marching in her direction. Her head falls back dramatically, and she whines.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for over a month Wynonna!” Waverly continues, on her heels now, as she lumbers through the front door. Wynonna’s first task is the whiskey she seizes from the cabinet. She doesn’t bother with a glass, the bottle is fine, and she sags into the chair, elbows on the table. Waverly watches, eyes wide in both frustration, and concern. 

“I’ve been undercover with Black Badge. You know I can’t use my personal cell while I’m out, baby girl,” she says, her voice is tired and a little raspy.

“Well, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Wynonna swallows the contents of the bottle like it’s the last thing she’ll ever drink. When she’s done, she slouches against the back of the chair with the bottle still hanging in her hand. “Alright. Pick away.”

Waverly looks around the kitchen, distracted by the silence. The TV’s off. It’s always on for Daddy. The house is too quiet now. “First of all, where’s Daddy?”

“I don’t know, but if he passed out on the can again, thas’ all you.”

“Wynonna, you can’t just—”

Wynonna cuts her off with a wave of her hand. She leans forward, elbows on the table again, and sets the whiskey down roughly. “Listen baby girl, I’m tired as fuck, so pick your bone and move along.”

She sounds just like daddy. No affection in her voice, and no patience, but Waverly knows her all too well. She’s not daddy, her lack of empathy is just a mask hiding what she really is. A coward, and it’s written all over her face. She’s afraid.

 “What’s wrong?” Waverly asks anyway, knowing it’s unlikely that she’ll get an honest answer.

“I can’t talk about it. You know this so stop asking me all the time!” Wynonna’s words swell into almost a growl, and the bottle teeters on the table.

Waverly takes in a deep breath as the words settle back into silence. She came here for a reason. It may or may not have something to do with Wynonna’s current state of hostility, but this has been gnawing away at her for almost four fucking weeks. She has to say it. She has to confront her sister, or she just might burst.

She lunges forward and grips the chair across from Wynonna. The adrenaline floods through her in anticipation. She counts to three to calm herself down before she says it, but her voice still comes out in a hurry. “I know about that tattoo…about Raymond .”

Wynonna doesn’t look surprised. She sucks her teeth and nods. “Nicole?” she asks, but they both know she already knows the answer to that. She erupts from her seat, gun drawn, and chair kicked aside. She slams her free hand on the table. Waverly stumbles back, so startled and confused she’s not sure how to react.

 “I’m gonna kick some ginger ass!”

Waverly’s never seen Wynonna’s eyes so cold before, animal-like. It has her frozen, and as much as she’s had enough of them, tears swell above her lower lashes.

“Wynonna, stop it!” She tries to shout, to meet Wynonna’s asperity, but it comes out weak. “You’ve been lying to me almost my whole life. Why? Why couldn’t you tell me?” Tears fall now. She moves around the table, tugging on Wynonna’s jacket, feeling cheated, desperately combing aside chestnut strands of hair. Her sister won’t even look at her.

“If Nicole told you, then she told you why, Waverly.”

“I could have helped—”

Wynonna brushes her off and trades the gun for the bottle. The whiskey slows her down. It weighs heavily on her drooping eyelids; she swallows it and wets her words. “You couldn’t have Waverly. You were just a child. Too young…we all were. She shouldn’t have told you.” She chucks the empty bottle to the sink. Glass against stainless steel, the sound is jolting. “You need to leave, and I need to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

It hurts to see Wynonna this way, cold and so far away, with a feral look in her eyes. Waverly wants to latch on and smother it out of her with love and affection. If Waverly wasn’t so mad, she might do it. Right now, she needs some goddamn answers. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me the truth!”

“You want to talk about the truth baby girl?” Wynonna staggers out into the living room, whiskey heavy in her steps, and staggers back in with a new purpose. She waves the magazine around wildly as if to showcase it and drops it on the table where it smacks in front of Waverly. Waverly wipes, frustrated, at the endless tears cutting lines into her already pink cheeks. This magazine is all too familiar.

“Here I thought this shit-ticket was out of your life,” Wynonna’s words blur, but they don’t get any less bitter, and her tongue gets sloppy, but she blathers on. “— and …I don’t know, you’re married to an even bigger shit-ticket. For god’s sake Waverly…”

“I’m not…”

Wynonna cuts her off again and taps the magazine with her index finger impatiently. “This picture tells a pretty story, baby girl…and I’m assuming Nicole’s getting something in return for giving up all her dirty little secrets?”

“You know what Wynonna? You’re really mean when you drink…and you drink too much!” Waverly moves toward the door. She doesn’t rush, she hopes her sister will pull her head out of her ass and stop soaking everything in whiskey for once. Nicole told her the truth, why can’t her own sister confide in her?

Wynonna takes in a deep breath, and lets it out again, slow and controlled. She shakes her head, face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she says.

Waverly pauses.

She slides around the table and takes both Waverly’s hands into her own. She smiles, eyes glossy with what could be tears, if Wynonna would allow herself to cry. “Try to understand… please . I didn’t do this to hide something from you…or to hurt you. I did it to protect you, because you’re my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore.”

“You’re not, but you will always be my baby sister.” Wynonna kisses Waverly’s forehead, and brushes away her hair with sisterly affection, her smile bright and false. “I’ll keep you safe,” she whispers. “Just trust me.”

Waverly nods acrimoniously, pulls away. “That’s it…after fifteen years that’s all the explanation I get?”

“This isn’t a game Waverly. Nicole told you, you’re in danger enough already, what more do you want me to say?”

It’s different being lied to by her. Abandonment, exclusion, she’s used to. In some ways, Waverly’s always felt like an only child, but she’s never felt so empty about it as she does in this moment, when Wynonna looks her in the eye and lies.

“That’s fine Wynonna…I’m sure Nicole will tell me the rest.” That was a low blow. That comment ends this conversation and gets her nothing. She’s tired of being on the outside. Waverly’s a grown woman. She’s married, and she’s learned more about Wynonna’s childhood from her wife, than from her sister.

“Get out.” Wynonna grunts through clenched teeth and eyes full of icy blue fire looking more feral than ever.

Waverly quells the urge to take it back and apologize, but it’s too late. Her sister is not here anymore. That’s all daddy. “Goodbye, Wynonna.”

Waverly throws open the door, and stomps her way to the Jeep, sniffing back every tear that dares come out. Wynonna won’t stop her this time. By now, Wynonna’s located a new bottle of whiskey and is dragging her ass up the stairs. She’ll pass out before Waverly makes it halfway home.

***

Waverly can see what Nicole wants by the way Nicole looks at her, honey eyes with a heavy sense of longing, still patient. She can sense it even in the softest touch, a brush of their hands, an arm around her waist, a gentle offer.

She could taste it on Nicole’s lips, in their last kiss, there was a question. She didn’t know the answer yet, but Nicole gave her room to savor the excitement of curiosity.

Waverly thought about it, last night. During book time Waverly curled up next to Nicole on the couch. Nicole’s fingers combed through her hair, and while they read, she could hear Nicole’s heart beating. She fell asleep to its rhythm beating against her own before she could think anymore.

She thought about it again, this morning, when they woke up still tangled on the couch, and did their morning race to the shower. Then again, at Eden’s, at the table in the corner, the way the sun filtered in through the window, highlighting strands of Nicole’s hair a brighter red, the kind of red painted in a sunset.

Just like the red in the t-shirt Waverly’s wearing with all its yellows, and blues too. She likes the colors, but she picked this tee because it’s Nicole’s, and it smells like her, even though Waverly just washed it. It hangs low on her, nearly mid-thigh, but she tied it in a knot, so it doesn’t hide the black lace panties she chose tonight.

She really thought about it. She tried to plan it out in her head, what to say, what to do first. She strutted into Nicole’s room with Led Zeppelin on her chest, and her heart in her hands, ready to charm the pants off her wife. Yet, as confident as she felt, the moment was lost once she climbed into bed next to Nicole spooning her pillow like that, with her face relaxed in sleep.

In one heavy breath, all that confidence fades away. Something else floods through her instead, constricting her chest, freezing her muscles, and pinning her to the mattress, not the way she wants to be. It lingers there in the forefront of her mind, that maybe she’s not good enough, or won’t be good enough. Nicole doesn’t want the love of a broken girl and all her insecurities, because Waverly’s not loveable.

Waverly takes a deep breath in an attempt to fill the emptiness in the pit of her stomach. That can’t be true. She refuses to believe that this thing between her and Nicole is just some casual dalliance to be easily forgotten. Nicole cares. Waverly can see that too, in small gestures, and the way Nicole kisses her.

They understand each other. They both have their own issues; both are a little broken and lonely. A little scared. Waverly finds safety in Nicole. Reprieve from the chaos that PGE brings, even if Nicole brings her own bit of chaos to Waverly’s life. They’re in this together.

“Okay, Waverly, just do it already.” Waverly mumbles to herself.

She may as well have cast herself off a cliff with the way her stomach plummets into a rush of butterflies. She shimmies under the blankets and aligns herself with Nicole before any more nerves can stop her.

Fingers comb through red hair and trace sweetly down the heat of Nicole’s back, and Waverly presses light kisses against her cheek, gently coaxing Nicole awake. Nicole arches into Waverly’s hand, muscles trembling into a deep stretch, then her body curls in on itself in a little sleepy ball around her pillow.

Nicole hums, her eyes are still closed, and her pillow squeezes closer to her face. “Is it five already?” she groans.

“No,” Waverly whispers and presses a tender kiss to Nicole’s lips. Nicole’s eyes flutter open, cross-eyed and clouded with sleep. Her lips draw into a lazy smile with those dimples prominently on display. They’re irresistible. Waverly presses her lips to one before it disappears. 

Nicole’s not the candles and rose petals type of girl, but Waverly would do it. She’d grace every surface in this house with wax candles of all shapes and sizes, and sprinkle a trail of sweet rose petals leading up the steps to the bedroom, swirling them across the blankets. She’d do it for Nicole, just to tell Nicole how she feels. Even if she’s not sure how to put it into words yet. Safe comes to mind. Wanted .

“Hi.” Waverly smiles.

“Hi.” Nicole smiles back and cuddles into Waverly’s neck applying soft playful kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. Nicole giggles into her shoulder and kisses there too. “Waverly, what’s going on?” she laughs.

 “Do you like it?” Waverly asks, and plucks the front of the t-shirt. She wants to be sexy for Nicole, to be desirable, but she doesn’t know what Nicole likes. She doesn’t have the all-black, leather pants, wild thing edge like Kevin. She’s just Waverly. She wears jeans most days and half of the time she doesn’t even brush her hair.

“Yes,” Nicole says, in a sultry voice. Her fingers find the knot on the t-shirt. She teases it loose and the shirt spills around Waverly, covering her in places she doesn’t want to be covered, but the look in Nicole’s eyes suggest she won’t be disappointed for long. “I really do.”

There’s no struggle finding those places again, Nicole’s hand smooths over Waverly’s upper thigh, and traces out the black lace underneath. The touch prickles along Waverly’s skin. Her fingers tighten in Nicole’s hair and she captures Nicole’s lips with her own kind of wild edge.

But Nicole breaks their kiss. Doubt sets in again. Does Nicole not want this after all? She takes Waverly’s hand in her own and thumbs the diamond on Waverly’s ring finger. Sometimes Waverly forgets it’s there, it’s a part of her now, it claimed her from the beginning, didn’t it?

“What’s wrong?” Waverly asks nervously. Heart blaring in her ears, she panics. It dawns on her. What if she’s been misreading the signals, and Nicole doesn’t want love at all? Nicole won’t love her.

“I just want to make sure I didn’t do anything or say anything that made you feel rushed. We can wait. I can wait as long as you need.”

Waverly sighs in relief.  “No silly, I don’t feel rushed…” She slips her hand under the back of Nicole’s Concrete Blonde shirt with a new burst of confidence. She draws lines over Nicole’s ribs and explores as much of Nicole’s body as she can in this position.  So much of Nicole she’s already familiar with, all the shapes and curves, especially when wet, but still a stranger to so many other parts. “No, I just want to feel you .”

Her fingers curl at the hem of Nicole’s shirt and she struggles to remove it. “Sure, now your shirt wants to stay on,” she jokes, and tugs a little harder. Nicole laughs and pulls her arms through the sleeves. It’s off. Waverly runs her hands over Nicole’s body excitedly, anywhere, and everywhere. She’s naked and silky.

Nicole melts into her touch, into the kiss Waverly presses to her forehead before she kisses Nicole’s lips again. Nicole helps Waverly out of her Led Zeppelin t-shirt and their eyes meet; the shirt lands somewhere on the floor. Waverly’s cheeks flush from the adrenalin and her own nakedness.

Nicole gracefully rolls her on her back, bridging over her. Red hair flows around Nicole’s face, and the tips tickle Waverly’s cheeks. She lowers her head to Waverly’s lips, and smiles into a kiss. Nicole has her right now, entranced.

Nicole settles her full length along Waverly, and Waverly surrenders to her touch, wholey succumbing to the notion that they desire the same thing. That under all of Nicole’s games, her rough exterior, and defiant nature, she wishes for…she needs , love. Waverly wants to be that for Nicole, to give Nicole love, to be Nicole’s safety like Nicole is hers. She kisses Nicole like she loves her, because she could love Nicole.

Nicole pins Waverly’s hands to the mattress above her head with one hand, and the other hand wanders. Her touch is warm and gentle but addicting. She’s confident in the way she teases, with skillful fingers slipping under black lace. Waverly moans. She needs it.

She allows Nicole to set the pace and take the lead, hold her captive with a kiss, but it’s not enough. She needs to wrap her arms around Nicole and hold on, because what she is feeling is something she’s never felt before. The way Nicole slides inside of her, and moves against her, it has her toes curling, back arching, and she’s desperate for release. Desperate to feel close.

Waverly breaks her hands free because she can, because she has to, and drags her nails down Nicole’s bare back, soft at first until Nicole’s touch becomes almost unbearable. Waverly’s eyes squeeze shut, her nails drag harder, undoubtedly leaving clean lines in Nicole’s skin. She’ll wear them for days. But neither of them care about that right now, only their bodies coming together in some effort at making love, if that’s what this is.

Waverly thinks that might be what this is. This sensation of her heart slowing down to a dangerous pace, then speeding back up again, she wants to believe this is what falling in love feels like. As her body relaxes into the mattress, she gazes into honey gold eyes and smiles. Nicole does this to her. Nicole feels like falling in love.

***

Waverly wakes wrapped up in Nicole’s arms. She stretches from head to toe and enjoys their scents mingling in the sheets before she opens her eyes. Nicole stirs behind her. She tightens her embrace, squeezing Waverly around the waist, molding herself completely against the back of Waverly’s body. Nicole’s naked and warm.

Waverly smiles. “Good morning,” she says.

Nicole kisses along Waverly’s jaw. Waverly turns and their lips meet. “Good morning,” Nicole answers.

Part of her didn’t want to wake up, afraid it was all just a dream, just a silly little fantasy, but Nicole’s still here, holding her and kissing her. They’re tangled together, exploring each other, now more familiar. It wasn’t a dream.

“How about I make us some pancakes before work?”

Now that’s a fantasy. Waverly waking up the morning after, wandering into the kitchen to the smell of blueberry pancakes. It’s late in the day, the sun’s bright and warm. After they eat, they curl back up together in bed and drift off to sleep…

It’s just a silly idea that shouldn’t mean anything. Nicole thinks of Waverly first. She thinks to make sure Waverly has more than just a “good time”, even if it is just blueberry pancakes. Nicole won’t leave in the middle of the night. Nicole wants to make her blueberry pancakes.

The gesture flutters in Waverly’s chest. She smiles again. Something better floats through her mind.

“Mmm that sounds nice but…I kind of don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

“No? But don’t you have like way too many pancakes to eat?”

Waverly shakes her head. She pulls Nicole close and whispers against her cheek. “I have a better idea...” 

“Well when you put it that way…”

***

Waverly’s spent the morning wiping down the tables and washing windows, anything to stay away from the pastries and their sickeningly sweet aroma. Even Nicole’s table, in the farthest corner from the register, isn’t far enough away to escape the way the sugar coats the back of her tongue. It makes her gag, but as much as she’d like to, she’s afraid to make a mad dash to the bathroom. She especially doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the camera. Derek may be nodding off periodically, but his camera doesn’t sleep.

There’s no doubt in Waverly’s mind, if Gus catches her throwing up in the coffee shop, Gus will scold her for coming in sick. Calling out just wasn’t an option. That leaves her with little choice but to wash the sticky residue from the side of this table, and try not to take in too big of a breath.

“Girl you are almost 15 minutes late!” Gus hollers from the supply closet. She charges out waving a fistful of straws and meets Stephanie at the counter. She is not a very big woman, but she’s as ferocious as a wild boar when she’s pissed off. According to Uncle Julian, that’s where Waverly gets her attitude, from mama’s side of the family.  “I hope you have a real good excuse!”

Stephanie rolls her eyes in an obnoxious teenager type of way. Not much has changed since high school. She punches in at the register, then spins around to face Gus, whipping her hair behind her. “I got stuck behind some stupid bicyclist. I didn’t like… run her over.”

Waverly’s ears perk up. Fear kicks in at the image of Nicole weaving in and out of traffic down Main Street. It’s reckless behavior like that that Waverly wishes she could put an end to. Maybe if she was bossier and Nicole was less stubborn, she could rein in those wild and heedless tendencies. She can’t tame the untamable, however. She knew this from the start, but dammit if she doesn’t still try.

Don’t interfere with my work, Waverly.

Fine! But try not to die, okay?

They’ve had that conversation a few times. Nicole has kept her word so far, wearing her Smokey the Bear helmet, working on the not dying part. Still, none of it resolves the churning in Waverly’s stomach right now.

“It was just a minor collision.” Stephanie continues, and sweat ripples along Waverly’s hairline. “I am fine…let’s not get dramatic.” The shaking in Waverly’s fingertips syncs with the irregularities in her heartbeat. She can’t tell if she’s flying or falling or maybe she’s fainting? “It’s not like I killed anyone—”

It can’t wait anymore. Waverly misses what Stephanie says next, bolting to the bathroom. She throws herself to her knees, the door slams shut behind her, and she grips the toilet seat. She doesn’t want to think about it anymore. As gross as it is, she embraces the cool porcelain pressed to her hands and ignores the grooves in the tile floor biting into her knees. The amount of times Waverly has mopped up urine off this floor is irrelevant in her desperate need for relief.

I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry so much, sweetheart. Waverly wants to believe Nicole, but it’s hard listening to Stephanie talk about some stupid cyclist she maybe left for dead on the roadway.

“ Nicole ,” Waverly chokes, and her body hates her.

Derek’s head lolls back, his mouth is open, and his lips vibrate through heavy breath. He doesn’t notice Waverly wandering out of the bathroom, weak and clammy. She straightens out her ponytail and tries to tell herself she’s not sick. She can’t be sick. She keeps Derek in her peripheral vision as she maneuvers around the corner.  

“Where’s Waverly?” Nicole demands. She’s got dirt spread down the back of her t-shirt and a crusty trail of blood winding down her arm. She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Waverly stares at her like an apparition, the thought of Sheriff Nedley calling to tell her Nicole’s been killed in a collision fresh in her mind.

Stephanie nods past Nicole. She turns around. All her prickly energy softens and dissipates as a smile spreads across her face. On a normal day, that smile would melt Waverly into the ground. Not today. Not with Nicole standing in front of her all mangled and dirty. The horror of Nicole’s near death experience won’t be tempered by swooning and infatuated butterflies. No, Waverly’s adrenaline is out for blood. Who hurt my Nicole?

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Waverly speed walks the best she can without panic-tripping over her own feet, and latches on to Nicole’s arm. “Don’t sweetheart me! What happened to you?” Waverly twists Nicole’s arm to get a better look at the gash on her elbow. The skin has been shredded from gravel. Red beads of blood still ooze from the raw flesh. Waverly frantically grabs napkins from behind the counter and presses them to the wound.

“Did you fall? Did you get hit by a car?” She side-eyes an oblivious Stephanie with venom in her gaze.

“Ow! Waverly stop.”

“See, this exactly why you need a helmet, and thank god you have one! I can only imagine—” Waverly talks too fast and her heart’s racing. She releases Nicole’s arms and grabs at her face, searching for any more signs of injury.

“Waverly!” Nicole wiggles free of her grip and pins her hands at her sides.

“Why aren’t you wearing your jacket, it would have protected you?” Waverly struggles to free herself. Tears build in her eyes. There’s a rip in Nicole’s shirt at the shoulder, and a white scrape on the side of the helmet hanging from her messenger bag.

Nicole’s still breathing, and she’s walking and talking. She’s okay, but she’s hurt. Waverly takes in a deep breath. She is hurt and it’s too much, everything is amplified. The tears fall and Waverly’s nauseous again, but Nicole still has her wrists pinned. She tries to concentrate on what Nicole’s saying. It’s all jumbled up through the blood pounding in her ears, and then she gets distracted by Dave hobbling in all sweaty and out of breath. His arms appear to be too weak to hold his camera steady.

“It’s too hot for that jacket today,” Nicole says softly, as if to soothe the terror out of Waverly’s shaking limbs. “It’s practically summer, and I didn’t fall or get hit by a car…not exactly, anyway.” Her eyes roll to Stephanie staring blankly back at them. Stephanie shrugs apathetically.

Waverly gapes at her. She has half a mind to leap over this counter and take Stephanie to the ground.

“I didn’t do anything. I just opened my door and she like, ran into it.” Stephanie says. “That reminds me, should I give you my insurance information? I think your tire left a nasty scuff on the finish of my new car.”

Nicole shushes her and takes Waverly’s face into her hands to get her attention. It takes a good couple of seconds for Waverly to peel her death glare from Stephanie.

“You look like shit,” Nicole states, with concern pooling in her eyes. She studies Waverly’s face.

“…thanks?”

 “No, I mean…are you sick? You don’t look like you feel good.”

Waverly’s gaze falls to Nicole’s feet. She’s not sick. If she doesn’t say it out loud, it’s not real. She shakes her head no .

Dave creeps around Nicole’s side with his camera devouring their every word, monitoring each movement. Waverly buries her face in Nicole’s v-neck t-shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She doesn’t want to play The Newlyweds today. She just wants to survive it.

Nicole wraps her arms around Waverly, shielding her from the lens and whispering against her ear. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“You have to work.” Waverly sniffles.

“I know, but—”

Waverly steps out of Nicole’s embrace, shaking her head again. “ I have to work.”

She can’t leave Gus with Stephanie. Gus will kill her, and Stephanie. Though, in this moment, she’s not super concerned with Stephanie’s well-being.  On the other hand, it would make a juicy story for the tabloids.

And in other news, The Newlyweds very own Waverly Earp was murdered earlier today by her boss and Aunt, Gus Gibson, over a stomach flu.

“Well, come sit with me a second,” Nicole says sweetly.

Waverly nods and Nicole takes her hand.

Gus comes grumbling back. She’s in a real mood today, agitated by Derek’s camera. Invasion of privacy , she mutters, disrupting her business . “Waverly, I need you to take out the trash,” she barks. Waverly stomach twists. She grips Nicole’s hand tight in reaction.

“She’s taking a break,” Nicole spits.

“And are you her boss?”

“No, I’m her wife,” she challenges.

Neither of them says another word. Waverly’s afraid to look back at Gus as Nicole leads her to the corner table. Nicole slides out a chair for Waverly, and Waverly drops into it.

Nicole situates herself in the seat facing her. “This isn’t about us…the other night, right?”

“No! No…I’m just…sick. Well, I was sick for a second, but I’m better now.”

Nicole nods her acceptance. “Okay, I am at least going to get you some water and see if the old bag will give me some crackers.”

“That’s not very nice. She’s my aunt you know,” she calls after Nicole.

Derek snorts out of sleep and drags himself closer, opposite of Dave without being in view of his camera. She’ll never get used to them always being around. It was supposed to be one day. One Day in the life of Wayhaught , except it's not one day. It’s every friggin’ day with the cameras stalking them through their daily routines. Their entire lives are filmed, except the shower, thank god, and PGE gives Greasy and Creepy the nights off. Nicole locked them out of the house on several occasions and blocked Robin’s phone calls.

The contract Mrs. Haught.

Kiss my ass, Jett.

“So, Gus is super pissed. She wouldn’t even look at me,” Nicole says, and reclaims her seat next to Waverly.

Waverly giggles. “Take that as a compliment. If Champ talked to her that way, she would have smacked him with a broom…or worse.” She hooks her finger around a lock of Nicole’s hair and tucks it behind Nicole’s ear. “She must like you a little bit.”

Nicole chuckles and kisses Waverly’s cheek. She sets her scone, her Monster, and a paper cup filled with water on the table, and hands Waverly a small package of crackers. Waverly opens them and nibbles off one corner.

Nicole cracks open that Monster and the chemical grape aroma floods Waverly’s nostrils, stirring up a fresh storm in her stomach. She ignores it the best she can and shoves a cracker in her mouth to distract herself. 

Nicole takes the Monster to her lips and swallows.

“Hello there.” They both startle. Waverly half expects to see Eliza looming over them, appearing out of nowhere like she often does. Instead, it’s the woman Eliza warned them about. The one they’re not supposed to talk to, Jolene .

Jolene smiles at them innocently, but her eyes are sinister, black, like demon eyes. She holds out a long slender hand to Nicole.

Nicole dismisses the gesture. “What do you want?”

“I’m Jolene from the Hubris Press, just doing a follow up for the story I’m working on,” she says in a voice that’s falsely sweet.

“What story?” Waverly asks nervously.

“Oh, you know, the one about Nicole punching Champ Hardy in the face…just right over there.” She points as if she were watching an instant replay.

“Fuck off,” Nicole grunts, and picks her Monster back up.

Waverly watches her throat bob as she chugs it in a hurry. When she’s done, she tears off the tab and drops it in the can out of habit. Jolene watches too, and the look she gives Waverly speaks volumes. I see what you see , Waverly imagines her saying. Her presence is deceiving. Part inviting and familiar, Waverly could tell her everything. But those eyes mirror a dark storm of destruction waiting to suck Waverly up and rip her into pieces. 

Nicole sets her dark brooding gaze on her, demanding she leaves with just a look, but she doesn’t. Jolene’s smile never fades, and her confidence doesn’t waver. “I’m sorry Nicole. This must be really hard for you after the way things ended with your first wife.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I think it’s pretty clear, Nicole. You couldn’t satisfy Waverly, just as you couldn’t satisfy Shae.”

Nicole smashes the Monster can into a disk on the table with her fist. The action surprises Waverly. She jumps a little in her seat and the package of crackers slips through her fingers and lands in her lap. 

Nicole doesn’t talk about Shae. In fact, the only times Waverly has heard Nicole talk about her, is during that interview with Eliza. Waverly had always assumed Nicole was too much of a shithead to keep a fancy pants doctor for a wife. Now she’s not so sure. Now that she knows Nicole.

“Shut your mouth.”

“I can only imagine how it feels knowing you drove your wife back into the bed of her manipulative ex-boyfriend. All that baggage you carry around really is a burden to those around you, isn’t it? Maybe you’re just not cut out for marriage.”

“That’s not at all what happened,” Waverly protests. Her chest aches over the hurt on Nicole’s face. She could tell that day in the hospital, Nicole still has wounds from her previous marriage, and somehow Jolene has gathered that too. Jolene knows just where to stab and cut to get a story.  She’s manipulative and sadistic. Eliza warned them not to talk to her because she has the power to ruin their lives.

“Look, we all know you’re a little bit impulsive, Waverly…some might even say... dramatic?”

“You get away from us, now!” Nicole growls. She’s half out of her seat, red-faced and shaking. The Monster can flies from the table and wobbles on the floor.

“Did it feel good to hit him?” Jolene antagonizes. “I bet it felt good to take out your anger on someone other than your best friend…or should I say, ex -best friend?”

“That’s enough!” Waverly cries out.

Jolene turns to Waverly next. “How is big sis doing, by the way? After the big reveal? That wasn’t very sisterly of her, keeping that secret from you was it…”

“How do you know about that?” Waverly asks. There were no cameras with her at the Homestead. She would have noticed if someone followed her, wouldn’t she?

Jolene ignores her, blithe and deadly innocent, “…though it’s nothing compared to what she did to Nicole.” She smiles back at Nicole. “Right, sugar? What she did to you is unforgivable.”

“Stop it!” Nicole shouts. People are starting to stare now. Waverly forgets how to breathe. This is getting out of control, and the room is spinning like a ride at the fair.

“Then again, it’s not like you didn’t play a big role in your grandfather’s death. Well, you can’t really blame it all on Wynonna, because really it all started with you, Nicole.”

Nicole erupts from the table, her chair flies back, and she storms around Jolene to the door, slamming into it so hard it crashes into the brick exterior of the building.

“What is wrong with you?” Waverly says, and chases after Nicole. Tears flood her eyes. She brushes them away with the back of her hand.

Nicole’s already straddling her bike. She won’t look at Waverly, but Waverly’s certain she sees tears in Nicole’s eyes too.

“Nicole,” she says softly, and reaches out to her.

Nicole takes in a deep breath. It comes out rough and unsteady. She shakes her head, hands gripping her handlebars tight, and one foot ready at the pedal. “I can’t,” she says and pushes off, sending the bike in motion. She picks up speed the further she gets down the street leaving Waverly standing alone in front of Eden’s.

“Nicole!” Waverly yells, though she knows Nicole can’t hear her. “ Shit .”

***

Waverly snuck away hoping she wasn’t followed by any cameras, or worse. After today she just wants to curl up in bed next to her wife, if her wife wants to curl up next to her. Jolene said some terrible things. Bone chilling things. A part of Waverly wonders if Nicole will be home at all. Where would she go?   

Waverly keeps her head down. She’ll be quick. In and out with a new stock of Benadryl. No big deal. It’s not like she’ll get ambushed in the middle of the Grocery Outlet, right?

She slinks down the aisles to find what she’s looking for, skulking past the Tylenol and cough syrup, and there it is, the pink box. Not the pink box she was looking for, however. This one can’t promise her long-lasting relief. She seizes the box from the shelf and examines it front to back. Read your results in just 3 minutes.

She stares at it for a minute, trying to ignore the dread swelling in her belly. The box is light in her hand, yet holds so much weight. It’s a happy pink. Encouraging. Haunting .

She gets the sensation she’s dreaming. Stuck in one of those nightmares where she can’t move or scream for help. This box taunts her. It wants to steal everything away from her. She doesn’t want this box at all.

“Congratulations.”

Waverly startles from the cheery voice, and the box fumbles in her clumsy hands. Jolene’s smile is dark, filled with sugar coated malice. Just an imitation of compassion. It looks more like misery when it finds company: satisfied.

Shit . Waverly’s shrinks, her chest tightens, and she can’t breathe. Nothing about today is easy, and if Jolene’s here, surely it will only get worse. “Oh,” she chokes.

Jolone anchors her in an all knowing stare, as if to say, you can’t get away from me . “You’ve been married for less than four months, moving right along, aren’t you?”

“No. No, I meant to grab…” Waverly awkwardly tries to put the box back. She scans over the shelf nervously and grabs the first thing she sees. “—these,” she says, clutching a box of condoms. She shrugs hating herself.

Jolene blinks at her, wearing happiness as a disguise, Waverly wishes she could peel it right off. What’s underneath might be worse. “It’s a little late for those, don’t you think?”

“Actually, it’s not…what it looks like.” Waverly shuts her eyes in utter embarrassment. She’s grateful Jolene doesn’t have a whole camera crew with her as she seems to dig herself deeper. Even without a camera, Jolene knows things, and she knows the right things to say to get all the wrong answers. Don’t speak. Don’t speak.  

Waverly sees what she needs next to Jolene on the shelf, almost touching her. Of course. It’s tempting to turn around before she makes it worse. Go home empty handed and pretend this didn’t happen. She’d already be gone if her sinuses weren’t begging her to take what she came for. 

Jolene tracks Waverly’s arm outstretched in front of her, cautiously reaching. She plucks the Benadryl off the shelf and clutches it to her chest. Time to go . She drops the condoms on a lower shelf and backs away slowly.

Jolene watches, amused. I see you.  

Waverly forces a smile. “Have a nice night.” 

She spins on her heels, shaking, and flushed with embarrassment. Waverly won’t tell Nicole she was here, or that she ran into Jolene. It’d only make her madder. She won’t tell Nicole about that pink box either.

***

Waverly’s relieved to find Nicole sitting on the porch, no light, no little moth stalking the flickering bulb, just her sulking in the dark. She peers up at Waverly making her way up the walkway, expressionless.

The cigarette dangles limp between her fingers. She moves it to her lips, and sags into the wooden chair. “You’re smoking…” Waverly acknowledges, coming through the screen door. She lets it shut quietly behind her. Even the softest noise is harsh in the silence.

Nicole shakes her head. “No.” She plucks it from her lips and holds it out for Waverly to see. “It’s not lit. I’m just holding it.”

The moon provides enough light for Waverly to see the dried up tear tracks on Nicole’s cheeks. She acts so tough in leather, clouded in smoke, hiding behind dark broody eyes, but there’s something else inside. Waverly’s always seen it, that hesitation, the loss, the pinprick of pain preserved forever in resin. The fear.

Waverly slips the strap of Nicole’s messenger bag over her head and clutches it in front of her. “You left your bag at Eden’s.” She sets it by the door. Calamity Jane hisses at her and she holds in a sneeze. Waverly shoos Calamity away and carefully sits in the chair next to Nicole.

“Thanks,” Nicole says. She exhales imaginary smoke from her lungs and discards the cigarette in the ashtray. Her elbows go to rest on her knees and her head in her hands, and her fingers comb roughly through her hair. “It’s all true you know…it is my fault. All of it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I hated you, Waverly…before.” The words barely cut through the silence. It’s hard to accept them as true when they come out so weak and tired. “I wanted nothing to do with you.”

“Why?” Waverly asks.

“It was never going to end. I was so tired. I thought I might die in that place.” Her voice cracks into a whimper. She sucks in a breath, holding back tears, holding back something greater. Something that’s threatening to come out like a bomb, to rip through her, because she’s been holding on for so long, too long. Waverly can see it, and she can feel it radiating off Nicole.

She grips her chair to keep from touching Nicole, afraid that Nicole will push her aside. Nicole will keep secrets and shut her out if Waverly presses too hard.

“I had planned to testify against him…and finally be free. Wynonna was scared that if I told, he would kill you. She did what she thought was best, and she told Raymond what I was going to do.” Nicole picks up the cigarette again and rolls it between her fingers and her thumb. She grimaces and bites her lip. A tear bounces off her cheek.

“On the day I was going to—he—my grandpa was killed and there was nothing I could do, because I was locked up in that stupid Juvenile Detention Center.” The cigarette snaps, tobacco sprinkles in Nicole’s lap. Waverly startles at the volume of Nicole’s voice. Nicole lets some of it out, reaching a breaking point, she shakes and squeezes what's left of that cigarette in her fist. “I hit her…again and again. I told her I would never forgive her, ever .”

“A part of me wished it had been you, even though it’s not your fault, and it’s not fair. I resented you, because you lived, and he didn’t. He was everything to me. He was my hero.” Nicole looks at Waverly now with watery eyes. She wipes at them with the back of her hand and sniffles. “And the funny thing is…now you’re everything to me. I would do anything for you, Waverly.”

Nicole reaches for her, asking for reassurance, asking for acceptance. Nicole trusts her. She’s everything to Nicole. Waverly cups Nicole’s face and presses a kiss to her lips.

“I won’t let anything happen to you Waverly. Trust me.” And Waverly does. 

***

Eliza waltzes in the door with a tall woman Waverly’s never seen before. The woman is wearing a fancy pinstriped pantsuit and carries a shiny black leather briefcase. She’s better dressed than Waverly’s ever seen Eliza or Robin, and she carries herself like someone important. Waverly’s already nervous. She sets down the frothing pitcher held loosely in her hand before she drops it and makes a scene.

Eliza gives Waverly a summoning stare, and Waverly follows her to the table. Nicole’s already sitting there with her breakfast of champions laid out either side of the notebook open in front of her. It’s payroll day, so naturally Nicole’s in a, I’m not human until I’ve had my vitamins , mood.

Eliza nods to them as they all sit down. The fancy woman sets her briefcase on the table and thrums her fingers over the edge.

“Nicole, Waverly, this is Kate,” Eliza introduces.

Kate reaches out her hand to each of them and they shake it mindlessly before looking back to Eliza with questions. Eliza usually has a no bullshit-presence, but today feels different. Waverly senses bad news, worse news than the photographic evidence of her poor decision making with Champ.

“Are you another producer?” Waverly asks hopefully.

“No. I’m a lawyer, actually,” Kate says matter-of-factly. Her tone isn’t as harsh as Eliza’s, but it’s not comforting either. “I work for PGE handling the legal matters of the show… and its contestants.”

“What do we need a lawyer for?” Nicole asks. Waverly can’t tell if the gravel in her voice is nervousness, or irritation from her interrupted breakfast.

Eliza’s gaze is grave. She doesn’t answer. The latches on the briefcase snap open, ready to release whatever kraken is hiding in there. Kate produces a newspaper and drops it on the table for Nicole to see. Waverly’s heart sinks already. “For this .”

She’s afraid to look. How bad can it be this time, for PGE to have called in a lawyer? Waverly leans forward. It’s an article from the Hubris Press written by Jolene. Her eyes scan over it wildly. The front page exhibits a promotional photo of Nicole, taken for The Newlyweds , captioned: “Purgatory’s Reality TV Star Caught in Suspicious Cult Behavior.”

Waverly reads it aloud in order to process it. “Purgatory resident, Nicole Haught, rumored to be involved with the Ghost River Triangle’s most wanted: Johnathon Clootie. Clootie, also known as Bulshar, is the founder of a well-established cult and is believed to be associated with a number of criminal operations, including the distribution of illegal substances and grand theft auto.”

Nicole slumps against the wall and her eyes get lost out the window. Waverly recognizes that look. She’s checking out, whether she’s too tired, too angry, or too afraid, she doesn’t want to be here. Waverly knows that look from Wynonna.

The more she learns about Nicole, the more she realizes how similar Nicole is to her sister. Fuck if that isn’t terrifying, but she won’t give up on Nicole, and she won’t give up on Wynonna either, no matter what they’ve done.

Waverly continues reading. “Haught, having a criminal history, including incidents of theft and arson, has yet to be convicted of further crimes. She is still believed to be associated with the Cult of Bulshar. ‘ Nicole has had a rough start in life ,’ says Purgatory Sheriff Randy Nedley, when asked about Nicole’s criminal past. ‘… hung out with the wrong people. I did my best to keep her on the straight and narrow, but I could only do so much. ’”

Nicole says nothing. She’s not even paying attention anymore. Waverly can feel Eliza berating them with her eyes.

“Did I not tell you to be careful? I remember specifically asking you not to talk to Jolene, or anyone from the Hubris Press,” Eliza growls.

“She ambushed us. We hardly said anything. It was all her,” Waverly stammers. It’s the truth. Jolene did all the talking, twisting their words, and provoking them. Waverly just sat there flabbergasted and confused.

Eliza shakes her head in disbelief and looks to Kate.

“We will do everything in our power to get this story retracted from the Hubris Press and prevent any further media outlet from printing this. We understand that the contents of this article are of a sensitive nature, Mrs. Haught.” 

Sensitive is an understatement. Jolene publicly accused Nicole of being a cult member. As if Nicole’s reputation isn’t bad enough.

Nicole snorts. She doesn’t break her stare from the window. Kate continues as if she doesn’t notice. “During this time, I encourage you to confide in Dr. Svane with any emotional disturbances this may cause, and in the meantime, I strongly advise against any further interaction with Jolene. Or any other press until we get the situation under control.”

“Whatever.” Nicole retorts.

“Nicole, I am going to ask you as your lawyer, what is your involvement with Clootie? Any information you give me is confidential and will only be used to help you.”

“As PGE’s lawyer , I’m so fucking sure.”

Waverly slaps her hand on Nicole’s thigh and squeezes gently. “Nicole, let her help you—” That’s when Waverly sees them. The black van lurking across the street in the no-parking zone. The camera peeks through the cracked window. Nicole’s staring right at them.

“He asked me to burn down the Sports Supply Store. I drenched the place inside and out with gasoline and lit a match to it.” She giggles. It’s chilling. “I was sixteen. I had to get caught though, you see…so he could collect the insurance claim on his building.” She pounds her fist on the table and continues to watch the black van dutifully. One of the men steps out and leans against the door with a cigarette held to his lips. Nicole rolls her eyes. “He got a lot of fucking money and I got arrested for the 500th time.”

Kate nods. “What did you tell the police when they arrived?”

Nicole huffs, and shift her eyes from the van to Kate. “You mean Sheriff Nedley? He knew. He was there every time…he did as much as he could.”

“Well, if he knew why didn’t he stop it? Why didn’t he arrest Clootie?” Waverly asks. It doesn’t make sense. He’s the Sheriff, it’s his job to protect people, especially vulnerable people. Nicole was only sixteen, someone should have protected her.

Nicole’s eyes bounce between the three of them. “Clootie is untouchable. Nedley couldn’t do diddly squat. He had just as much to lose as I did. He already pushed it helping me…and…” Wynonna .

“And now?” Kate probes. “What is your involvement now?”

She hesitates. Shakes her head. “No more questions.”

“The more I know, the more I can help you.”

“You can’t. Not with this.”

 ***

Waverly frowns. Something is not right. Something’s missing. She searches the trail of cobwebs, floor to ceiling. Mr. Plumpkins…Bubble Gum…Pikachu.

“Someone’s missing,” she says, and rests her hands to her hips, head tilted to the side.

Nicole strolls out of the bathroom with fresh minty breath. She wraps her arms around Waverly and rests her chin on Waverly’s shoulder. “ What’s missing, sweetheart?”

Waverly narrows her eyes and searches harder. Charlotte, Pickles…Heathcliff?

“Heathcliff!” she exclaims.

Nicole releases her. Waverly turns around, overwhelmed with grisly possibilities. Why? Over a spider?

“What?” Nicole says in confusion.

“The spider. He’s missing.”

“ Oh . I didn’t know we were naming those.”

“Do you know where he is?” Waverly snaps, borderline accusing Nicole of withholding critical information. 

Calm down Waverly, don’t get crazy . She looks at Nicole desperately combating the urge to latch on to Nicole’s t-shirt and demand an immediate response. All the worst thoughts come to her first. Death . She fails. Nicole stumbles back a step. Waverly’s fingers grip into Nicole’s shoulders. Crazy runs in the family anyway.   

“Nicole?”

Nicole swallows audibly, guilt written all over her face. She tucks her hair behind one ear then stuffs her hands in her front pockets. “I might have stepped on a spider the other day.” 

Waverly’s eyes bug out. She knew it! Her spider senses are tingling. Healthcliff is dead! “How could you, with your big clumsy feet!” She swats at Nicole’s shoulder as Nicole teeters back shielding herself with her hands. 

“Ow! Hey!”

“You killed him! You murdered Heathcliff.”

“Okay, come on now, let’s not get excited.”

Waverly throws her arms up wildly, ridiculously , but dead serious. “Excited! He was alive…a living thing.”

“So was that carrot you mutilated in the blender this morning.” Nicole snaps in defense.

“That’s different, that’s a vegetable.”

“Life is life, Waverly, maybe you should be a little more sensitive.” 

Waverly wilts. Again why? Over a spider? Nicole rests her hands on Waverly’s shoulders taking pity on her and ducks her head to be eye level. “I’m sorry Waves. I’ll be more mindful of the spiders.” Nicole smiles.

Waverly’s know Nicole’s just endulginging her insanity. Nicole knows it’s about more than the spiders. Nicole doesn’t really care about the spiders. 

Waverly falls into her arms wrapped around Nicole’s waist. Nicole squeezes her close in response.

Waverly sighs.  “I think I need some tea.” 

“Lead the way.”

Nicole tears open a packet of Skittles with her teeth and shakes out a handful into her open palm. She selects one, tosses it in the air, and catches it with her mouth. She shouldn’t do that. She’ll choke. Waverly takes her mug of hot tea to her lips to keep from saying it out loud. Nicole hates it when she ‘moms’ her. 

“How’s your tea?” Nicole asks. She catches another Skittle in her mouth. 

“Fine. How’s your...Skittles?” 

“Fine.” 

The kitchen’s too quiet, like it was at the Homestead. It’s been that way for over ten minutes. Waverly does her best to pretend that everything is okay. She sips her tea, scalding her tongue, and watches Nicole eat candy, fiddling with things on the counter. They’ve been quiet. 

Waverly’s aware of her oversensitivity. There’s a lot going on with her sister, PGE, and Nicole. She’s tired, and frankly a little pissed off about it all. It’s easier to stress about the spiders. 

“Do you think Kate can really help us?” 

“Us? Waverly,” Nicole hooks her thumb to her chest, “that article was about me.” 

“It affects me too . I’m your wife...we’re in this together, remember” 

Nicole shakes her head. She moves past Waverly to the garbage under the sink and disposes of the empty candy wrapper. “Eliza wants me to do something stupid...like play with puppies or feed the homeless, to keep a positive image.” 

“Why is that stupid? I’ll do it with you.” 

Nicole laughs. “You just want to play with puppies.” 

“Well, who doesn’t.” 

***

“No fucking way!” Nicole grumbles in the foyer. 

Waverly sets her tea on the counter and cranes her neck out the kitchen. Nicole’s peering through the window. “What the hell does she think she’s doing?” 

She barges out the door, the screen flies open and slaps shut again. Waverly passes through the living room, slow at first, making her way to the door. Someone’s shouting and she picks up the pace. She pushes through the screen door kicking something on the porch, and out to the front lawn.

Wynonna’s there, still with that feral look in her eyes, and a little bit drunk. She staggers up the walkway. “Haught, you ass!” 

“Go home Wynonna, you’re drunk.” Nicole says. 

“My sister lives here. I can come over and visit her whenever I want to.” She glances at Waverly briefly, but it’s obvious she didn’t come to visit her little sister. She tucks her hand in her leather jacket and tugs free a manila envelope. “Beside, we have a problem and it’s all your fault. You and your big stupid mouth.” 

Wynonna nearly falls into Nicole smacking the envelope against Nicole’s chest, then swaying back again.

“What is it?” Nicole asks.

“Just open it.” 

Curious, Waverly shuffles forward kicking something with her feet again. This time she stops to investigate. Another manila envelope lay in front of her. It’s labeled “Haught”, and has two eyes drawn on the front. Waverly lifts it from the grass delicately and looks it over.

She peels it open, just as Nicole does the same with Wynonna’s envelope, and slips out the contents. The first item is a newspaper clipping. Waverly skims through the article in horror. “James Haught, was struck and killed while riding his bicycle down Main St. Thursday morning.This is the 13th bicycle related accident on Main St. this year...Haught was on his way to the courthouse to meet his granddaughter, according to wife Elaine...”  

Waverly’s hands tremble. Her body turns to jelly. Her biggest fear for Nicole, and it happened to her grandfather? Nicole can never ride that bike again. It’s got to go.    

The next item in the envelope is a photo of Waverly and Nicole on the front porch, and another in Bunny’s pool. She flips through picture after picture, until they’re just, her. At work, by her car, outside the house. She examines each one with shaking fingers and all of them have two eyes drawn on the back. 

“If one hair is harmed on that luscious mane of hair, I will end your life. Do you understand?” Wynonna growls. 

That same cocky Nicole from the wedding chapel appears again. Nicole stands taller, almost towering over Wynonna, and guides her back with sheer command presence. “Same goes to you.”

They glare at each other, neither of them moves.  “You think you know something Nicole, but you don’t. I do, and I have more friends than you.”

Nicole notices Waverly standing behind her. She shrugs with the coldest stare. “I have everything that I need, to ruin you, Wynonna.” The words come out in a pained whisper. They ripple over Waverly’s skin in so many goosebumps.

Wynonna’s eyes burn bright and hot toward Nicole. “One hair, Nicole. Just one.” And she backs down the walkway and loads up in her truck.

Waverly squeezes the photos in her hands bending them slightly as she approaches Nicole. “Nicole?”

Nicole makes a noise of exasperation, holding in a sob. She tucks her hair behind one ear and slips the vape pen from her front pocket. Shaking her head, she inhales and lets it all out again.

“Nicole, talk to me.” Waverly approaches further holding her breath at first, while the cloud quickly dissipates.

Nicole hands the contents of the other envelope to Waverly. Waverly examines it. She turns it around. It’s a photo of her with Wynonna and Uncle Julian at Rowdy’s Diner. “I don’t understand. Where did these come from?” She flips it over and there are two eyes drawn on the back just like the others.

“What?” Nicole notices for the first time the photos in Waverly’s hand, and the newspaper clipping. She reaches for them. 

“Did Jolene do this?” Waverly’s voice cracks through the lump forming in her throat.

Nicole shakes her head flipping through the photos. She creases them in her fist. “I wish.” 

***

“Waverly, are you okay?” Nicole asks. She nudges Calamity Jane out the bedroom door with her foot and shuts it.  

Waverly shakes her head. She should be afraid. Instead she’s numb. She laughs, this is crazy. Nicole set those photos on fire after Waverly suggested they bring them to Sheriff Nedley. They stood in silence watching the edges curl up and turn to ash until there was nothing left of them. Waverly’s life is in danger, and she has clearly lost her mind because all she can think about is Nicole naked against her.  

“Take off your clothes.” Waverly says.

Nicole stares, lips parted, pupils dilated. For a second they could forget everything, get lost in each other. All that crazy bullshit that claws into them, tears them apart, only brings them closer. They’re in this together. No one else understands like them. 

“You heard me.” Waverly repeats.

Nicole tucks her hair behind one ear and looks at Waverly for all of ten seconds before they’re fumbling with the buttons on Waverly’s blouse. Waverly works down the top and Nicole at the bottom, they meet in the middle. Nicole brushes it down Waverly’s shoulders while Waverly tugs it off her wrists and Waverly’s fingers are loosening Nicole’s belt. 

It hits the floor with her jeans. Nicole steps out of them and lifts Waverly to the bed. They both move quick, tearing off their remaining clothing. Nicole nearly drags Waverly off the bed tugging down Waverly’s jeans, and everything is gone. Then it’s just them. Nothing else exists. 

***

“I want you to carry this around with you from now on.”

Nicole holds out a folding knife resembling the one clipped to the inside of her front pocket. Waverly puts her hands up and shakes her head. Daddy taught her how to use a shotgun, and Wynonna taught her how to use her fists. She’s never used a knife before, and she’s not going to carry one around. With her luck she’d trip and land on it.

“No way. I don’t want that.”

“Waverly, I can’t be with you 24/7. I need to know that you can defend yourself.”

“Not with that,” she protests. Besides, if one of those scary dudes in the black van come at her, running is her best bet.

Nicole sighs. She clips the knife to her back pocket, because one knife isn’t enough for Rambo here, and fishes something else out of the lockbox in her closet. “Here. This, then.”

Waverly takes the small black canister and inspects it. “Pepper spray?”

“Yes. It won’t hurt anyone…much, but it will dye their faces blue so I can, when I find them.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Fine, crazy. I have to go to work. ” she says, and tucks the mace in her pocket. 

***

If this were a movie she’d be frightened, terrified, by the rustling behind her. It might be followed by eerie footsteps creeping closer and closer. They’d speed up. She’d hurry, but her shaking hands wouldn’t cooperate with the keys in the door. She’d go to run…and it would just be a friend, a coworker…or the killer in disguise.

This isn’t a movie. Her hands really are shaking. Nicole’s got her all freaked out and when the rustling gets louder all the hair on her body stands up on end. It’s dark and she can’t see. She shouldn’t have agreed to close Eden’s. Not tonight with cult thugs stalking her, spying on her. Where are her cameras now? Who is she kidding? Derek’s not going to protect her.

She freezes. There really are footsteps, and they’re coming right at her. She should have taken the knife. No . What is she going to do with knife? Stab someone? Fuck no! Someone is chasing her and she’s going to run.

She bolts around the building, turns the corner, and takes off down the alley. Dummy. Everyone knows not to run down the alley, unless you want to get dead.

Her feet catch on a soggy cardboard box, she stumbles forward, steadying herself on the dumpster.

Chills trickle down her spine. The footsteps get closer. Her pursuer isn’t slowing down. She keeps going. She flies around another corner back onto the street and crashes into something. Someone . She screams and blindly shoves them away. They grunt and grab onto her.

Waverly doesn’t remember slipping the mace from her pocket, but her fingers are way ahead of her, pressing the button and releasing a nice steady stream of pepper spray. A loud yowl comes from in front of her. She can’t see their face, and they likely can’t see hers now.

She runs hard and fast until she can’t breathe and she’s out of breath in front of Eden’s. Nicole’s there. Waverly throws herself into Nicole’s arms, shaking and hysterical. She can hardly get a clear word out.

“Some-somebody was chasing me,” she nearly sobs. “I ran down the alley and sprayed them with the m-mace.”

“Okay sweetheart. It’s okay.” Nicole combs her fingers through Waverly’s hair and wipes away her tears. “You’re safe now. I got you.”

Nicole helps Waverly into the passenger side of her Jeep and buckles her in. “I will check it out. I’ll be right back.”

Waverly grabs ahold of Nicole’s arm. “No, please. Let’s just go home. Don’t go in there,” she squeaks.

“I’ll be okay. Just lock the door.”

Nicole doesn’t wander very far. Champ staggers down the street swiping at his face through blue-stained tears. “Waverly!” he calls out. 

Nicole rolls her eyes. Waverly slides out of the Jeep and walks briskly over. “Why were you chasing me?” Waverly demands. 

“Waverly.” He staggers in her direction. Nicole holds him away with her palm to his chest. 

“That’s close enough.” 

Champ blinks between them through blue tears. He doesn’t resist Nicole. “Chasing you...Waverly, you bolted out of the ally and ran into me...and fucking sprayed me with pepperspray! I was just going to Shorty’s.” 

Waverly squints at him, taking in what he said. She heard footsteps. She knows it. She’s not crazy. “Someone was chasing me,” she insists.

“Well, I didn’t see anyone else Waves. Just you.”  

“Alright that’s enough.” Nicole releases him and takes Waverly under her arm. “Let’s go, sweetheart.” 

Waverly stares at him over her shoulder as Nicole leads her away. Someone was chasing her.

***

“It was only Champ?” Waverly says in disbelief. 

“It was only Champ this time.” Nicole says. “You should have had the knife. Please take it for your safety and my peace of mind.”

That’s a thought that makes Waverly sick. To think, instead of macing Champ in the face, she could have stabbed him. “What if I had stabbed him, Nicole! I’m not carrying that goddamn knife, so drop it.”

Nicole’s quiet. Waverly’s nose wrinkles. “What’s that smell?”

Nicole shakes her vape for Waverly to see. “Oh, they were out of vanilla, so I got grape.”

“Well make it stop!” Waverly grunts and tucks her knees to her chest. “It’s making me sick.” 

Nicole looks at her concerned, and stops. She tosses the pen in the cupholder. Her hand lightly covers Waverly’s shoulder and she squeezes with gentle pressure. “Are you okay?”

Waverly shakes her head and hugs her knees tighter to her stomach in an attempt to keep it together. It’s not enough. “Pull over,” she begs.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to be sick.”

Nicole hits the curb and yanks the emergency brake when the Jeep is stopped. Waverly throws her seat belt aside, shoves open the Jeep door, and slips from the Jeep into the grass where she immediately throws up.

“Something's wrong with me,” she whimpers. Nicole squats next to her and makes soothing circles over her back with one hand and the other pushes Waverly’s hair from her face.  “Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart. You just have the flu. We need to get you home and in bed where you can rest.”

Waverly nods, but she’s not so sure. 

***

There are things in life that are hard, and there are things in life that are really fucking hard. She could hardly look at herself in the mirror, opening that box with hesitant fingers. Both individually wrapped tests slid easily into her clammy hands. The first she dropped in the toilet.

The second…it’s just plastic, but when it tears, she can feel something rip inside of her too. She’s never worried about this before. She’s been on the pill since she was fifteen, and almost always uses a condom, even with Champ. Especially with Champ.

Reckless isn’t a word she uses to describe herself. She’s not a risk-taker, always the responsible one, stays inside the lines, and follows the rules. It’s just one mistake. She missed two doses. Only two, and one night without a condom.

“Jesus Waverly, when you fuck up, you really fuck up.”

The bright pink wrapper falls in the trash and she sets the stick on the edge of the bathtub staring at it, afraid to touch it. It might bite.

All she wanted was to get away from Purgatory and live her life. That was the plan. Now, she’s tied here forever, stuck with him forever. This isn’t exactly what she meant when she wanted someone to love her. Not like this. Not this kind of love.

She takes in a deep breath, snatches up the test, and positions it under her. When she’s done, she holds the test face down until she’s ready to look at it.

She sits and waits counting down the seconds to the longest three minutes of her life, but it doesn’t take three minutes for all the air to leave her body. Her heart races, her hands shake, and she flips it over.

Chapter Text

Waverly turns the key to the ignition and the Jeep rumbles to life. Cool air bursts through the vents, and if it weren’t so fucking hot today, she’d be a little more sensitive to the sharp chill. The arctic winds roll out a protective layer of goosebumps all across her arms, and she takes a moment to bask in it, as if it’s just what she needs to start the day off right.

“You can do this Waverly. It’s just a day like any other day. Now go to work , ” she says, talking herself into it, just like she had to talk herself out of bed in the first place. Though, it was hard to ignore the obnoxious insulting melody blaring out of Nicole’s cellphone commanding an apparently comatose Nicole to wake up. Waverly begrudgingly rolled over Nicole, smashed her fingers aggressively over that phone’s stupid face, and shut the fucker up.

Nicole, too tired from staying up late, banging around in that locked room downstairs, still didn’t move. She’d kept Waverly up too. So, she had no qualms about pinching her fingers into Nicole’s sides to get Nicole moving out of that bed and into the shower.

Over the last two days Waverly did nothing but lay in bed sick, buried under three blankets and a bonus blanket. Nicole waited on her with soup and ginger ale, offering to hold her hair while she wrapped herself tight around cool porcelain until she's achieved a state of complete physical desolation.

Gus initially wasn’t pleased when Waverly called out, but was surprisingly sympathetic, offering to make Waverly homemade chicken noodle soup. She did not understand why Waverly told her she’d rather curl up and die under a mountain of blankets than eat poultry ever again. The last time she accidentally bit into a chicken panini, mistaking it for cheesy vegetable, her mouth was overwhelmed by the taste of rancid metal as if she were chewing on a piece of tin foil.  Oh, pish posh was Gus’ response.

There are no hints of nausea today, no urges to run to the bathroom, and no cold sweat dreams.  Nicole ate candy in the shower this morning and Waverly wasn’t disgusted, any more than usual, by the sugar melting in the steamy air. It was a watermelon Starburst, which in Waverly’s opinion is the absolute worst.

After the thirtieth time Nicole asked her if she was really okay, and if she was sure she didn’t want to give it one more day of rest, Waverly got up and dragged herself out the door. Waverly’s never taken a sick day in her life; sure she legitimately felt like she had come down with the plague, but she’s fine now, and she’s milked it long enough.

Her grip tightens on the steering wheel, she checks the rearview mirror and frowns at her reflection—cheeks still drained of color, dark shadows under her eyes, did she even try to fix her hair?

She sniffs her tank top; it dawns on her that she’s still wearing the same one she slept in. It’s Nicole’s, Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here tour. Nicole said she could have it. It’s too pink . Waverly laughed at that. It’s not pink at all, it’s white and it’s too big. Waverly slips the hair tie from her wrist and ties a knot in the side of it to fit her small frame. There. She glances at herself one last time in the mirror, repulsed by what she sees, then backs out of the driveway.

Robin’s attempts to track Waverly down over the last forty-eight hours were thwarted by Nicole manning the front door and disconnecting the house phone. Unfortunately, Nicole couldn’t save herself. Eliza dragged her to the Miller Recreation Center to volunteer with the troubled youth of Purgatory. She ate half a quart of Sour Patch Kids ice cream when she got home, and said she never liked kids, even when she was one. Waverly didn’t so much as peek her head out from under the blankets for the rest of the night.

She cranks the knob to the stereo; it comes out fuzzy at first before those lyrics bleed through and crawl up Waverly’s arms like spiders. She’s never liked this song. Those words, the guitar, the despair in his voice. It antagonizes Waverly’s need for control, because life is precious and despite her best efforts, she can’t control everything. This song is proof. There are dangers all around her, maybe now more than ever.

Nicole, however, seems to enjoy singing along with Pearl Jam in the kitchen, boiling water for Mac N’ Cheese like the overgrown child she is. Waverly asked her why she likes it. It’s romantic Nicole offered.

Oh, where oh where can my baby be? The Lord took her away from me.

There’s nothing romantic about it. Waverly changes the station and lets Drunk in Love distract her as she makes her way down Main St, humming the main melody. She snaps her fingers to get into it, to wake up, to prepare to face reality again. Feeling like an animal with these cameras all in my grill. She bobs her head to the beat and surveys the road in front of her. All the cars, the people on the streets, and…

A familiar Smokey the Bear helmet zips past her window, weaving between the cars just ahead. Traffic is at a healthy pace this morning. Everyone’s had their coffee, everyone except Waverly, and Nicole keeps up like it’s nothing. Waverly cringes, Nicole taps her fingers along the side of a black SUV as she passes and shoots off to the opposite side of the street. It reminds Waverly of fish darting, around erratically dodging each other in tight spaces, like in the aquarium at the dentist's office.

Why is she such a dumbass? What’s worse is that Nicole recklessly grabs onto the back of a food delivery truck and lets it tow her along for a half a mile before using it to launch herself forward.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Waverly growls and slams her hands on the steering wheel. Her wife is a show-off and an asshole with a death wish, and those stupid lyrics creep through her mind again. Waverly’s done all she can do for that wildling, with the helmet and the lectures, all that’s left is to hope the universe doesn’t race down Main St. and take Nicole out. “I can’t deal with this today.” She drags her eyes away from Nicole and makes the turn onto 3 rd .

She deflates in her seat once parked, and lets her head fall back against the headrest with the air conditioner blowing through her hair. “This is fine. Everything’s fine.”

The engine shuts off. She throws her legs out of the Jeep first, and lets their weight drag her from her seat, while her mind clings to the steering wheel, the seatbelt, and anything else that will keep her from going into Eden’s.

She wishes she did have the plague. The last two days, bedridden, were a luxury vacation next to PGE and all its invasive fuckery. It’s barely been over 3 months and Waverly is already careworn and jaded. Hollywood life in Purgatory is anything but glamorous—no flying first class, poppin’ champagne, or shopping for expensive things. She still works at Eden’s and drives a Jeep that has one temperature, ice cold.

She trudges down the sidewalk glancing at the place where she maced Champ in the face, and freezes. There in the newspaper vending machine next to the big blue mailbox, The Hubris Press, big bold letters: Purgatory’s Favorite Little Angel, Pregnant!

“Motherfucker.” It’s one goddamn thing after another and it’s draining the life out of her. All her patience and compassion, her laugh, her smile, all the things that won her The Nicest Person in Purgatory , sucked clean out of her like marrow from her bones. She doesn’t feel nice right now. She’s more like a tiny tornado of fury, the Tasmanian Devil, ready to destroy everything around her, even herself.

Waverly frantically digs out four quarters from her wallet. She slots them in the machine, the lid groans open, and she yanks out the whole stack before it snaps shut. They go straight into the nearest trash can. “Absolutely fucking not!”

She shoulders through the door and winces at the bell chime above her. A man standing in line glances back at her over his shoulder. Waverly swears his nose wrinkles a little and she doesn’t blame him. She’d wrinkle her nose too at her own haggard appearance, hair frizzy and wild, dark circles under her eyes like she’s dressed up for Halloween. Honestly Waverly . She rolls her eyes with self-reproach, and power walks to the register, barely glancing at Gus and Chrissy talking behind the counter.

“We’re out of 2% milk.” Chrissy says and shakes the empty carton.

“I’ll have to send you to the store when Stephanie gets here to hand out orders.” Gus exhales in irritation. “She can handle that much.”

Their conversation fades and Waverly ignores the silence. She knows she’s a mess. She doesn’t need everyone reminding her. She jabs her index finger against the touch screen, clocks in. Her eyes meet Gus for a brief moment in her action to retrieve her apron from the hook on the wall. She yanks it over her head, it catches on her ears, and she yanks it harder into place.

A heavy expression of concern carves the grooves around Gus’s eyes, showing her age, as the ‘mom’ in her surfaces. Aunt Gus is the closest thing Waverly has had to a mom, and Gus has had no problem taking on that role for Waverly, but right now, that look whips up a slurry of guilt and regret. She could have used someone the other night, to wait with her sitting on the edge of the tub, while the answer trembled in Waverly’s fingertips.

That’s the kind of thing a mother would do for her daughter. Everyone knows Waverly doesn’t have a mother and that her father is a good for nothing drunk. She’s been watered down with pity her whole life; she couldn’t stand to give another reason for it. That’s why she did it alone, and she didn’t tell. Not Gus. Not Nicole. Not Wynonna. Especially not Wynonna. That’s a whole other shit storm of disappointment.

Waverly slaps her hands on the counter to steady herself and the sudden sway in her knees. She can only imagine what people are going to say when they read that article. Those vending machines are sprinkled all around Purgatory, how quickly they work spreading her plague to everyone. Her fingers curl against the counter, the tips turn white in her attempt to tear through the stainless steel top. This plague is not gone. It’s still growing inside of her, making her sick, and a part of her just wants to deal with it alone under a bomb shelter of blankets.

“Waverly, honey…are you okay?” Gus asks. “Still sick?” She touches Waverly’s forehead and her cheeks with the back of her knuckles. She hums, considering. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever.”

Waverly swats Gus’s hand away and cinches the drawstring to the apron a little too tight. It cuts into her waist, threatening to pop her like a can of Pillsbury Dough. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Chrissy asks standing on her toes like a gopher, peeking her head over Gus’s shoulder. She drops the milk carton in the trash can under the register and slides in next to Gus. “You’ve been sick for two days. Waverly, we’ve barely heard from you?”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Waverly sighs, hoping an apology can palliate this situation. Chrissy and Gus share a look of skepticism.

Chrissy opens her mouth, Waverly can hear it before she speaks. “I’m—"

“I’m fine!” Waverly interrupts. “Why is everyone always trying to baby me? I can decide when I’m fine, and I’m fine. Stop asking!” 

Chrissy puts her palms up and shakes her head. “If you say so.” She gathers up a dishrag from the counter and slinks past Waverly into the lobby. Waverly eyeballs her with dissatisfaction. If Chrissy knew she might understand, but Waverly’s not going to tell her.

“You would tell me if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?” Gus ask. Waverly turns her attention to Gus, and the pleading look in her eye. Keeping this from Gus is the hardest. She’s never kept anything from Gus before. She ratted on herself at fifteen for sneaking out to go watch the meteor shower on the Nedley’s rooftop. She called Gus first thing when she got home. Gus was madder about Waverly waking her up at 2:00am, than she was about Waverly sneaking out.

  I can’t. It’s too embarrassing. “I’m fine. I promise.” Waverly insists. She offers a smile hoping it doesn’t look as tired and faded as it feels.

 “Alright.” Gus says. She eyes Waverly, unconvinced, and disappears into the supply closet. Waverly pivots to face the front door.

She mans the register most of the first hour, eyes like a hawk, holding her breath, praying that not a single customer rolls in with a copy of The Hubris Press clutched in their caffeine-hungry hand. What she’s going to do exactly if she spots one, is yet to be determined. Chasing after an unsuspecting customer with a broom and ripping that sucker from their grip won’t earn her employee of the month, which is obviously her goal in life.

“Waverly would you be a doll and take out the cardboard?” Gus says with her arms bent awkwardly behind her back forcing out her chest like she’s trying to snap herself back into place. “My back has been killing me the last few nights.”

“You gotta stop sleeping in that La-Z-Boy Aunt Gus,” she groans out.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it little girl.”

Waverly rests her hand on her stomach and gives a lukewarm smile. If you only knew . “Back pain is the last thing I need right now.”

Despite catching herself on the mop handle and the back door, she manages to get most of the recycling out in one trip, even though a few of the flattened out boxes are bigger than she is.

Waverly glances down the alley, where the delivery truck backs in and unloads the ungodly amount of espresso mix and fancy coffee creamers needed to satisfy the stuck up hipsters of Purgatory. A roar of temptation swells inside of her. She could just run. There’s a bus station two blocks away. She could be on the next bus with a one way ticket out of here.

She takes one step forward, stops, and sighs. Her sneakers have holes in them, which seems trivial in comparison to everything else. Waverly squats down to examine them, running her thumb along her exposed sock where the canvas has frayed and separated from the sole. These black Chucks have seen better days. She’s seen better days. Neither of them will get very far like this. 

Waverly tugs the lace to her sneaker loose. It unravels in her hands. She pulls it tight and delicately ties it into a bow again. She makes sure it’s perfect and even. At least some part of her should look like she knows what she’s doing. She fixes the other to match and ignores the few tears sprinkling over her busy hands.

Finished, she closes her eyes, counting down the seconds, reliving those long three minutes, feeling the air leave her body, her heart racing, hands shaking, and she opens her eyes. It’s just a day like any other day. Now go back to work.

“Where have you been young lady?” Gus chides. “Stephanie’s late, I need you to run the register and pass out orders.”

“Where’s Chrissy?”

Waverly scans the lobby and stares in horror as Chrissy picks up an abandoned copy of The Hubris Press. Chrissy holds it out in front of her, her eyes swell in shock, and her gaze painfully lifts from the article to Waverly.

Chrissy stares at her, her expression pure pity, judgement of Waverly and her catastrophic life. A fire spreads hot across her cheeks, too hot to put out, and her desperate need to keep this on the down-low chases off all efforts of a verbal protest. Waverly dashes across the lobby, snatches the paper from Chrissy, and wads it up in a hurry, shaking her head cartoonishly. No. No. No .

Chrissy holds her hands at waist height, as if the paper is still clutched in them, and her attention sinks to Waverly’s stomach. “Waverly, are you pregnant—”

The full question catches on her lips. Are you pregnant with Champ’s baby? Followed by more pity. Waverly shushes Chrissy with her finger to her lips. Just shut your mouth! She silently begs.

“Are you?” Chrissy repeats quieter, and takes a cautious step forward, a thoughtful reach of her hand. Waverly cringes. Is Chrissy trying to touch her stomach? Is she trying to find out for herself? Waverly stumbles back, her arms cutting through the air frantically in front of her. No! She wants to scream. I don’t owe you an explanation!

It’s not enough that Chrissy is standing here gawking at her, but now Nicole’s outside unclipping her helmet. Waverly watches her through the window. She’s stepping toward the door. There’s the chime above her head and the sun’s in her face. She swaggers through the door, and stops, scanning for Waverly.

Nicole wears tired better than Waverly. Her face is kissed pink by the sun, highlighted in the sparkly sheen of sweat beading along her hairline, the peak of her cheekbones. Her wind teased hair she sweeps behind one ear in a quick practiced movement, barely containing her unruly red locks. She has no regard for Gus’s absolutely no smoking policy, of any kind , when she whips out her pen, taking in the wispy vanilla, then lets it roll out over her lower lip.

She’s so goddamn pretty , Waverly thinks. The threat of Chrissy’s question loses rank and cowers in the back of her mind only long enough to appreciate her wife, the goddess of leather and ripped jeans.

Nicole spots Waverly through the thin white screen curling around her, and winks before it dissolves into nothing. Waverly smiles like a giddy little schoolgirl after her first kiss.

“Nicole Haught! You know better than to be using that thing in here!” Gus scolds over the counter.

Nicole doesn’t respond in the slightest, her only interest is Waverly. Waverly goes to stuff her hands in the pockets of her apron, at a loss of what to do with them while under Nicole’s gaze, then she remembers.

Waverly takes a second glance at the wadded up garbage in her hand, and back at Chrissy still stunned beside her. She sprints behind the register, slams the paper into the trash can with such force the whole thing wobbles at her feet. She steadies it just as Nicole reaches the counter.

“Welcome to Eden’s what can I get started for you?” Waverly says, like an idiot. She pinches her nose between her fingers, embarrassed as fuck. Just be cool Earp . “I mean…what’s up, baby?”

Nicole narrows her eyes and cocks her head to the side the way she does when she’s about to say something charming. “Why are you all sweaty?”

“Just bustin’ out those latte’s, Sugarbear.” Waverly flirts. In a last-ditch effort to remain inconspicuous, she clicks her teeth to the movement of her finger guns. Not that cool Earp.

Nicole nods suspiciously, then smiles, those dimples pop out generously, and she flashes perfect white teeth. “Well, to answer your question, I would like my usual, and the company of my beautiful wife, if she is available.”

Waverly smiles sheepishly. “Yeah…yes.”

Gus grunts her acknowledgment to the question Waverly hasn’t even asked yet. It’s a well-known routine by now and Gus is getting used to it. Who am to keep a couple of married lesbians from having breakfast together? Gus had said one day. Waverly reminded Gus she is not a lesbian.

Waverly bags up Nicole’s scone. Nicole claims her Monster from the refreshment cooler, and they relocate to the table in the corner.

“So…what’s new with you?” Waverly asks awkwardly.

“Um…nothing since I last saw you two hours ago.” Nicole looks at her hard, rubbing her fingers together to shed off crumbs from her scone. Waverly watches them sprinkle over the flattened out paper bag. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Waverly blinks at the ceiling self-consciously, outside of Drunk in Love , her mind draws a complete blank. “I might have the plague,” she says. It comes out nonchalantly, rather like a joke than a real concern. She should have come up with a better response than that. If it weren’t for the figure walking through the door she would have. “Christ on a cracker!”

Nicole chokes on her scone. “What?” she grunts through a cough. “Are you still feeling sick?”

Waverly pats her on the back like a child, and hands her the Monster. “I’m fine okay. Just-just eat your scone. I only have five minutes.”

Waverly is fooling herself into thinking Jolene isn’t here to fuel her mendacious horror stories. She doesn’t strike Waverly as one with a proclivity for friendly tea.

“Good morning.” Jolene chirps. Her smile is a cruel warning. Everything about her screams black-hearted bitch, and Waverly would gladly use her for mace practice. Who does she think she is running around ruining lives? She has done enough, to Nicole, to Waverly, and to anyone else so blessed to have met her.

Only inches away, Waverly can feel Jolene sickening her veins as the dread brews and gurgles in her belly. Jolene is a poison. By some miracle, Nicole hasn’t seen The Hubris Press… not yet . Jolene’s here to show Nicole, isn’t she?

“How are things going with the big news?” Jolene asks.

“—what?” Waverly’s teeth almost chatter from nerves. Jolene’s going to make her do it in the middle of Eden’s. She’s going to hold the gun against Waverly’s head and pull the trigger, if Waverly doesn’t do it first. Waverly can’t. The words are stuck in her throat, it’s dry and sore, and it’s been that way over the last two days. If Waverly could say it, she would have by now, but she was sick, so she squeezed her eyes shut and hid under the covers.

Then there’s Jolene. The ruiner of lives. The master of chaos and destruction. We’re having a brilliant time ; she taunts with those dark obsidian eyes.

Please don’t do this , Waverly begs.

“Oh, I think you know, Waverly. We just spoke about it…the other day, in the Grocery Outlet. Remember?”

The world could be catching fire around her and Waverly wouldn’t move. Frozen to her seat in a cold sweat. Her fingers curl around Nicole’s Monster and it bends slightly before Nicole pries it from her hand.

“Waverly, what is she talking about?”

Waverly locks eyes with Jolene, and she can’t look away. She can’t let Jolene look at her wife and tell her this thing, before she has a chance to.

Jolene continues, unphased by Waverly’s attempt to control the situation. “First of all, congratulations.”

“…on what?” Nicole asks slowly.

“Nicole—” Waverly starts, but Jolene interrupts.

Nicole’s gaze pulls from Jolene to Waverly, then back to Jolene.

“On the baby, you both must be so excited!”

“Baby?” Nicole spits. “We’re not having…” She pivots in her chair to face Waverly fully. “Waverly? What baby?”

Waverly grabs Nicole’s arm in an attempt to instill some kind of confidence that she isn’t a complete shit after everything Nicole’s shared with her. She was going to tell Nicole, but not like this, over breakfast at Eden’s. “Wait let me ex—"

“No need to hide it Nicole. Me and Wavey talked about it, when she picked up the pregnancy test.”

“You did what now?” It’s Nicole’s turn to crush the Monster in her fist, squeezing out the remainder of the purple sludge. It fizzes down her hand onto the table swelling into a grape scented puddle. Waverly stops breathing. Nicole’s look is so violent, it plasters Waverly against the wall, hard enough to crack her skull and break her bones. She fucked up.

“See, it’s all right here.” Jolene drops The Hubris Press in front of Nicole and surveys the damage proudly. The corner of the paper quickly soaks up the purple and bleeds through the print, warping it, blurring the lines— except that word remains. Pregnant . “I’m surprised you haven’t read it, Nicole. The news is everywhere. Everybody knows.”

“No fucking way.” Nicole snarls leaning over the article and seizes it in both hands creasing the edges. She glances back to Waverly with a look no better than the first. “Waverly, is this true?”

Jolene gasps with her handheld to her heart, feigning concern. “Oh, I’m sorry Waverly, I didn’t realize you hadn’t told your wife. Had you only mentioned something earlier, I would have kept this our little secret.”

“Waverly, why wouldn’t you tell me?” Nicole slams her index finger in the middle of The Hubris Press. “I am your wife, you didn’t think to talk to me about this before anyone else? I had to find out this way!”

“No, I…I’m so sorry.” Waverly chokes, tears pooling in her eyes. She sputters out something that’s indistinguishable, shaking her head.

“Am I the last person to know?”

“Can we talk about this later? At home?” Waverly reaches out weakly, her hand only hovering above Nicole’s arm, before Nicole jerks her arm away. 

“Yeah…or not.”

Nicole lifts out of her chair and slips her bag over her shoulder in one swoop. She shoves through the front door setting off that stupid little bell above it, and Waverly could just scream. Nicole thinks she’s a liar. After everything Nicole has shared with her, how will Nicole ever trust her again?

Waverly chokes back tears. This is absolutely insane. She didn’t sign up for this. She agreed to the cameras and the interviews and all of PGE’s crazy antics. She did not agree to be persecuted at work in front of her wife. Waverly rushes to her feet and slams her hands on the table hard enough to make Jolene step back blinking her black eyes. “Shove it up your ass Jolene!”

Waverly tugs the string to her apron, and the knot unravels behind her freeing her waist, and beelines for the door.

 “Where are you going?” Gus hollers.

 “I quit. I quit everything! It’s too much.”

****************                                 ********************                              ******************

Waverly launches from the edge, plunging in with a splash, sending ripples to slosh over the concrete lip of the pool. She recedes into the stillness of light casting a blue glow over the cool water. It swallows her, sucking her in until she hits the tiled bottom. She’s made a safe haven here. Somewhere to start fresh. To wash away her fears and frustration with chlorine and moonlight, but this time the sun's out, shedding light on her newest mistake.

Waverly imagines Jolene lurking over the side of the pool, looking down on her with a twisted warped shape to her body, smiling.

You brought this on yourself sugarplum. What did you expect to happen?

It’s funny, all the things that run through her mind while her arms and legs float lazily at her sides and in front of her. What did she expect? That Jolene would mind her own business and forget what she saw? That Nicole would just smile and call Waverly sweetheart after she found this out from the lips of a demonic news reporter? Or understand how Waverly was scared, and embarrassed, and would have told Nicole eventually?

What crawled up Jolene’s ass and made her such a goddamn bitch anyway? That stupid smug face, ghostly pale skin, and those impossibly dark eyes. She gnaws on Waverly with her rows and rows of teeth tearing away at flesh and bone. How much more can Waverly take? It’s too fucking much.

Oh Waverly, you can’t cheerlead your way out of this one.

Shut up! Waverly wants to scream, and she does, she screams with everything she’s got, expelling every ounce of air from her lungs in a rush of bubbles that tickle her lips on their way out, and she’s empty inside.

Less buoyant with a hollowed out chest, Waverly sinks a little more, flattening her back against the pool bottom. The sun can barely reach her here. Emptiness feels good…for a second. The feeling doesn’t last long.

Her chest aches. Her lungs force her to breathe in sharp shards of glass water. The chlorine burns her inside and out. Instinctually she tries to cough only shifting around the sharp edges inside her. Waverly pushes off the tile with her feet and propels herself toward the surface, only now realizing how deep she had sunk.

She kicks faster fighting through the fuzzy black edges encroaching in her vision. At first, she thinks she’s hallucinating a figure in front of her. Red hair flowing around her face like the most beautiful mermaid Waverly’s ever seen. The figure grabs her by the arm and tugs her to the surface.

“What are you doing here?” Waverly coughs through the water in her chest, still sharp as knives as it makes its way out.

“I followed you.” Nicole says hoisting Waverly from the pool to her knees. “I went back to Eden’s and watched you get into your car. So, I followed you here. I saw you jump in the pool and I waited for you to come up, but you didn’t. What are you trying to do?”

Waverly plops down on the concrete. Her soaked denim jeans pull awkwardly as she folds her legs in front of her and hugs them to her chest. “I don’t know. I was trying to get away…from everything. I don’t think I can do this, Nicole,” she admits, and hides her face against her knees.

Nicole squats down in front of her, bouncing on her toes until she gets her balance. “Do what?” Nicole says impatiently.

“This!” Waverly argues, she looks up gesturing her hands all around her. “All of this. It’s too fucking much.”

“Waverly, why wouldn’t you just tell me?” she sighs.

“Well, I was going to tell you…it’s just that—”

 “But you didn’t. I had to hear it from Jolene ,” she interrupts.

Waverly shies from Nicole’s hardened expression.  Nicole’s right. She should be mad. Waverly should have told her. “I know…I was embarrassed…”

Nicole repositions herself, sitting with her legs bent up in front of her, and arms draped loosely over her knees. “You’ve made me look like an idiot. You’re embarrassed? I‘m embarrassed. My wife is pregnant with some jackass’ baby and I found out last? How am I supposed to feel Waverly, tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because—”

“Did you think I would be mad?” Nicole interrupts again. “That’d I leave you? I told you: you’re everything to me. I told you things I have never told anyone before…I think I’ve earned some kind of trust with you, haven’t I?”

Waverly launches to her knees and throws her hands to either side of her head in frustration. “Just stop talking for one flipping second!”

Nicole reels back, wide eyed, and silent…finally. She folds her arms over her chest and waits. Her soggy shirt is caught on her belt loop exposing black Tomboy boxer briefs just barely for Waverly to see, and below it the knife in the front pocket of her ripped skinny jeans. Waverly remembers stripping off those jeans and throwing them aside to the bathtub along with Waverly’s own sopping wet jeans.

Nicole was kind to her then, after she confessed to sleeping with Champ. Nicole held her while she cried and brought her here. Nicole understood then. She’ll understand now. She will.

“Nicole…”

******************************              *************************                 ************************

For fifteen minutes Waverly’s watches the firsthand creep along the face of that clock. It resembles Cogsworth in shape and color, and Waverly imagines it coming to life when no one’s looking. It ticks and tocks while she and Nicole stuff themselves deeper into their respective ends of the couch. If Waverly stuffs herself any further, she’ll be upside down in Wonderland, and the tick-tocking will be led by a frantic white rabbit.

“I want you both to try something with me.” Dr. Svane says. “Set your feet flat on the ground. Relax into your seats. You can close your eyes if you want, but you don’t have to.”

Nicole sighs heavily, not in an I’m relaxing sort of way. It’s like pulling teeth to get her to make any kind of effort in therapy. Waverly doesn’t blame her. Waverly’s not in a productive mood today either. Trying to navigate through the last couple of days, after Jolene released that article, her phone rang nonstop. She shut the damn thing off. Talking about it completely however, was unavoidable. Gus locked her in the supply closet until Waverly told her everything. It was a relief to tell someone other than Nicole, but to repeat the same story to everyone? 

Waverly flutters her eyes shut and lets Dr. Svane guide her.

“Take a deep breath in. Feel your body as you inhale.” Dr. Svane continues with a soft gentleness to his voice. “Take a long breath out. Notice your body as you exhale. Follow your breath, in and out. Rest your mind on your belly, or your chest, or at your nostrils.”

“What does that even mean? Rest your mind on your belly?” Nicole snorts destroying the opportunity for a peaceful ambiance with her class clown interruptus. She can’t help herself, can she? “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Dr. Svane doesn’t acknowledge her. He breathes his words in and out cathartically, his voice still soft and gentle. No waver. No irritation. “Just be aware as you breathe in, and aware as you breathe out.”

All that breathing relaxes Waverly deeper into the couch and she lets her mind wander from Dr. Svane’s office.

Waverly waited on the porch for him so Nicole wouldn’t hear the knock on the door. She couldn’t go back to that store and risk being seen again, risk someone finding out and telling Nicole. No one could know until SHE did.

She called him and asked for a favor. He did it no-questions-asked, like she knew he would. He doesn’t have it in his heart to pry or judge.

Waverly sprang from the porch seat when his truck pulled up. She winced at the squeaking brakes.

“Did you get it?” Waverly asked as Uncle Julian made his way up the walk. He smiled, concern glowing in his blue moonlit eyes. He held out the plastic sack to her.

“Talk to me my angel.”

Waverly shook her head at a dizzying speed and snatched the bag from his hands. “I can’t. I have to just…get this over with. I’ll talk to you if there’s something to talk about.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She ignored his offer to stay and wait for the answer with her. He said she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to be alone, but oh god did it feel that way.

Waverly stuffed the plastic bag in her sweatshirt and shielded it from Nicole padding out of the kitchen with one Twinkie in her mouth and another unopened in her hand. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” she said, distorted in sugary fluff. “Are you going to be sick again? Do you need me?”

Waverly ignored her too and marched up the stairs. She had one job right then. She kicked the bathroom door shut behind her and with shaking fingers she fumbled for that pink box trapped in cheap thin plastic.

She stared at it first. Read and re-read the directions. She knew what she had to do.

“When you’re ready, open your eyes and come back to our session.” Dr. Svane says pulling Waverly from her memory. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy,” Waverly mumbles as the memory fades off into the distance.

Nicole grunts her response. It’s doubtful she even participated.

 “I am going to continue where we left off before our exercise. If I understand, there has been a certain amount of tension over the last two weeks. Can you tell me more about this?” Dr. Svane asks.

“Congratulations Dr. Obvious. There is no prize,” Nicole retorts childishly. She’s irritable and edgy. She pretends like she’s not, by acting out like this, but she’s just as frustrated and scared as Waverly. This is what Nicole does. She gets snippy and quiet with her big broody eyes, sipping on grape Monster, acting extra sassy at Eden’s.

How are we going to deal with this? Nicole crushes another cigarette in her fist. What are we going to do? She empties an entire bag of Skittles into her mouth at once. It doesn’t have to be Nicole’s problem; Waverly had said to her. It isn’t about her this time. You’re my wife, of course it has something to do with me, Nicole threw back.

Dr. Svane shifts his gaze from Nicole to Waverly. He crosses his legs and sets his hands on the yellow notepad in his lap studiously.  Waverly darts her attention around the room avoiding his analytic stare. A lone copy of The Hubris Press is centered on Dr. Svane’s desk. Waverly glares at it. If only she could set fire to it with her mind and watch it curl and burn to ash, like those photographs.

Or worse, if she could just set fire to Jolene, make Jolene disappear out of her life, and out of this world. Jolene and her dark demon eyes and fake smile, burn it all . Waverly gasps at herself, at her own horrible thoughts. Is she really so upset, so angry, that she would wish harm on another human being?

She considers it, considers all that Jolene has done already. The damage that her articles have done, and how long the effects will last. She really has done some shitty shit. Waverly nods. Yup . That bitch has gotta go.

It’s quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time before Dr. Svane speaks again. His lips smack together, and his first word is silent. “Waverly, I would be interested to hear more about your interaction with…” He glances down at his yellow notepad and adjusts his glasses. His finger trails lazily down blue horizontal lines.  As if he needs to be reminded of the name. “Champ.” He says, like today is the first time he’s ever heard it.

“She doesn’t have to talk about that.” Nicole snaps.

Jolene didn’t name him, but Waverly has a feeling Champ will come up a lot anyway, considering the compromising photos of the night she spent in his bed. Nicole and she talked about how they would deal with it. What they would say. Nothing that made Waverly feel better about it.

Just his name reminds her of his aftershave soaking in her sheets, that oversized and gaudy belt buckle, thin brown leather belt and outdated Levi’s. All the lies he’s ever told her; I love you being one of them. But Nicole punched Champ in the nose, twice, and she did it hard . Waverly buries her smile in her hand. It was epic.

Dr. Svane squints questionably between them and his eyes light up. “Oh.” He uncrosses his legs and adjusts in his seat. “No-no. No. I think maybe you have misunderstood. I was referring to the incident with the mace.”

Waverly shrugs like it ain’t no thang. “I thought I heard footsteps and they were coming closer, so I ran. Champ happened to be there...”

Nicole huffs rudely and digs out a stick of Zebra Stripe gum from the front pocket of her jeans. The wrapper lands in her lap and she brushes it to the floor before taking the gum into her mouth.

Dr. Svane flinches at the action. “I see.” He continues back to Waverly. “Do you think it was Champ chasing you? Do you feel like he is a danger to you, Waverly?”

“No more questions!” Nicole declares.

“Nicole, in order for us to move forward in our development we must deal with what’s bothering us now.”

“We?” Nicole says in an accusatory tone. She bites hard on an air bubble in her gum. It makes a weak pop. “There’s no we .”

“Okay. Let’s try our ‘I’ statements.” Dr. Svane says impatiently. He sets his notepad on the side table next to his chair and removes his glasses. His face is naked without them and the bridge of his nose is a little pink. “Waverly, I asked you a question first. Do you feel like Champ is dangerous? Use your ‘I’ statements if you would.”

“Um—I”

“I don’t want to hear his name again!” Nicole interrupts.

“It is Waverly’s turn, Nicole.”

“ I believe that you are an asshole.” Nicole growls. “I am angry when I am around you.”

“Nicole, I don’t think this is productive,” Dr. Svane warns.

 “ I think this is stupid. I hate all of your questions.” She continues getting progressively louder with every word until her voice echoes off the sterile white walls. “I feel we are done here!”

“We?” Dr. Svane mocks. “Waverly? I’d like to hear from you.”

 “Um…” Waverly fumbles for words under Nicole’s commanding stare and Dr. Svane’s nod of encouragement. “I think I’m ready to go,” she concedes.

Nicole’s face is blank, cold even. She holds her hand out to Waverly to signal it’s time to leave. Waverly curls her fingers around it and accepts the boost off the couch. Nicole rest her hand against Waverly’s back protectively and attempts to guide Waverly toward the door.  

Dr. Svane puts his hands up, stalling them mid-step. “Wait. One more question.” He says. His smile is more mischievous than ever. “You’ll want to hear this one.”

Nicole’s hand drops from Waverly’s back. She glances quickly over Waverly’s face. Waverly nods and they both sink back into the couch.

“Let’s hear it.” Nicole says irritably.

Dr. Svane nods. He pulls open the drawer to his side table and withdraws two familiar stacks of cash. He slaps them on the table for dramatic effect and returns to take out two more stacks of cash. He smiles. “Do you want to play a game?” His voice is raspy in a way that gives Waverly the creepy feeling he’s about to chain them up and ask her to saw Nicole’s leg off.

“What kind of game?” Nicole asks.

******************************              *************************                 ************************

“I can’t do this…I can’t Nicole.” Waverly squeaks, looping the same path she’s made about a dozen time’s around their bedroom, scarring a trail into the hardwood with her incessant anxiety. Why did she think she could do this? She can’t do this. There’s no way she’ll pull this off.

“Okay, hang on a second.” Nicole says. She takes Waverly by the hands and lightly tugs Waverly out of her track. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath,” Nicole soothes. She brings Waverly’s hands close and holds them against her chest. “Look at me.”

Waverly does. Nicole’s expression is solemn and sweet and does something to calm the crazy out of Waverly. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, understand? And whatever you choose to do, I am here for you, whatever you need.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do this…how I am going to say it, ” Waverly gestures as if she were holding the problem in her hand. “in front of everyone and the cameras. They’re all going to know.”

“They’ll know what we tell them.” Nicole assures.

She kisses each of Waverly’s knuckles. She’s surprisingly unphased by something that is going to follow them for the rest of their contract, and beyond. Waverly envies her confidence. While Nicole stands tall and brave, Waverly runs erratically like a hamster on a wheel. Any second now she’ll trip and fly off into the nearest wall.

“We’re already married…pretend that we wanted a baby…” Nicole says. She rests her lips against Waverly’s forehead and sighs patiently. Her hand slides over Waverly’s stomach where it lingers there, cupping it. “That this baby, is our baby.”

Waverly recoils. It’s a natural reaction. People touch pregnant women's stomachs all the time, but the gesture is irritating and unwanted. She swats Nicole’s hand away. “Wynonna’s not going to believe that for a second.”

Nicole rolls her eyes disparagingly, not at Waverly but at her big sister, who is likely the biggest threat tonight. “We’ll deal with Wynonna later.”

The door opens, smacking Nicole in the back and startling them both. She releases Waverly’s hands and growls over her shoulder. “Can I help you?”

Rosita peeks her head in, and immediately eyes Nicole with disapproval.  “I see you decided against the burgundy cord shirt.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky I’m wearing a shirt at all.”

“Now, you don’t match.” Rosita pouts and motions to Waverly’s burgundy lace pleated skater dress, which Waverly has become attached to. She fingers the hem fondly.

“Great because we’re not twins going to church on Sunday,” Nicole snaps.

Rosita resigns, clearly not in the mood for Nicole’s jackassery today. “Your guests are waiting downstairs.”

The door smacks Nicole again. Eliza squeezes past Rosita into the bedroom.

“Do you guys have any respect for privacy?” Nicole snarls.

Eliza dismisses Nicole with a shake of her head. “Not at all. You signed away your privacy.”

“Remind me what we are doing again?” Waverly asks, gazing up at Nicole for one last dose of reassurance.

“This is simply a response to the article in The Hubris Press,” Eliza answers. “The Hubris Press is local. Only Purgatory will have heard the news, for now. We have to take control over this and reach your entire audience first, before Jolene or any other POS does.”

“Okay…and that involves my entire family because ?” Waverly knows the answer. They talked about it over and over until Waverly could hear the plan in her sleep.

Eliza answers again. “Because, you’re going to tell them on national television. You’re going to be open and honest and we’re going to capture a real reaction. The Newlyweds followers will want to know if you’re pregnant, Waverly. They’ll want all the details.”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable having all of America at my family dinner,” Waverly mumbles.

“That’s pretty much the definition of this show, Waverly, suck it up. Families laugh, cry, and throw dinner rolls at each other. At least you’re getting paid to do it.”

*** 

“You got this, sweetheart,” Nicole whispers in Waverly’s ear as they enter the dining room and are greeted with all of Waverly’s loved ones.

Their doleful stares pinch a little in her chest. She wishes things could be different, and that she didn’t have to tell them, not this way. What she really wishes she didn’t have to tell them at all.

The dining room is hidden behind a pocket door, and most days Waverly forgets it’s there. It was dusty and neglected before Rosita came in with a Swiffer and threw out the remains of forgotten house plants.

Nicole wasn’t enthused about Waverly being in here for the first time, scanning through the antique glass display cabinets full of memories captured in wood frames. In fact, she damn near insisted Waverly get out.

She put up less of a fight for Rosita. Rosita hardly gave her an option. Rosita does have a magic about her that breaks Nicole into submission…sometimes. Not with clothes. Nicole fights her tooth and nail when it comes to clothes. Waverly’s almost certain Nicole does it for fun, just to show Rosita she’s not as powerful as she thinks she is.   

“Hi guys.” Waverly forces a smile.

She makes her way to her chair and sits. Nicole sits opposite to her at the other end of the table separated by her family and this thing she has to tell them. They all gape at her expectantly. They’ve read the article by now. Some of them have asked about it and she dodged every question, waiting for this moment. It has to be captured on camera by PGE for this to work.

Waverly laces her fingers together and plops them in her lap. “I hope everyone is hungry,” she says sheepishly.

Mumbled responses ripple down the table. Waverly avoids their chain of probing stares and flickers her gaze straight to Nicole. Nicole is preoccupied. Disgust and pity aimed at Daddy contort her otherwise dull expression, his nose deep in one of her crystal lowball glasses. It’s too classy for Daddy and so is the whiskey wetting his lips. Nicole knows that’s what he’s here for, free food and fancy booze, not Waverly, and judging by her tightening grip on her own glass, Nicole can hardly stand him. 

Derek sweeps the room with his camera. The movement draws Waverly’s attention, Aunt Gus and Uncle Julian’s too. Wynonna’s too fixated on Waverly to notice. Wynonna’s not here for pleasantries, or free handouts like Daddy. She wants an answer to a burning question, and she won’t leave without it. Waverly shrugs to herself with a wicked satisfaction. She has the secret now. All guilt aside, it feels good to be the all-knowing one for once.

“This is kind of weird, Angel. I don’t understand,” Uncle Julian says, staring at the camera staring back at him. “Why are they here?” He gestures to Eliza and Robin standing in the doorway. Eliza’s head is angled to the phone in her hand, seemingly not paying attention to the so-called show.

Everyone else is waiting for Waverly’s response. Waverly doesn’t answer, unable to find a word to describe her situation. It’s a charade, all kinds of trouble, a real version of The Game of Life. She crosses her fingers hoping she doesn’t end up with two sets of twins and a high mortgage. She’s always been better at Candy Land anyway; she grins to herself.

Nicole props her elbows on the table and clears her throat breaking the silence. “As you are all aware, Waverly and I are on a reality TV show.” She pauses, a slight smirk on her face. There’s a perverse sense of amusement in her voice, gladly taking the opportunity to patronize their guests. “It shouldn’t be surprising to find cameras haunting our home…but if you really don’t understand, I’ll go ahead and break it down for you.”

“Nicole,” Waverly says, barely loud enough to grab Nicole’s attention. Waverly shakes her head, no . Being a smart ass isn’t going to help their situation.

Nicole leans back, disappointed, and lets out a heavy breath of resentment. She doesn’t say anything else. The attention is back on Waverly. All eyes are on her, all accept Daddy’s.

A heavy sense of dread weighs her down in her chair, but she manages to suck it up, and act like she wants to be here. “I have some news that I want to share with you all…”

Derek’s camera sneaks up on her and gets a close-up of her face. It’s distracting at the least. Waverly does her best to ignore it. “I know you have all been wondering…”

“Good evening everyone,” Rosita interrupts as she sashays through the door, Dave trailing behind her. She claps her hands together merrily and acknowledges the table, stealing Waverly’s moment. “Dinner has arrived.”

Eliza steps aside, taking her eyes away from her phone long enough for a train of well-dressed waiters to march by, all wearing matching black long-tailed suit jackets and gold ascots around their necks. Each of them displays a silver platter in one hand and delivers it to its destination.

Waverly’s silver platter is set in front of her. The waiter plucks off the cover revealing a thick steamy slice of vegetarian lasagna. Waverly’s mouth waters. She barely nibbled on a stale pastry at Eden’s today, and the baked cheese is making her hungry.

Everyone blinks quietly. No one touches their food. No one so much as lifts a utensil. They’re waiting for the answer. Waverly’s ignored their calls, Chrissy and Jeremy’s texts, evaded them at work. No one is here for dinner, and Waverly really needs them to be.

“Just act natural,” Robin chimes. “They’re just cameras, they won’t bite. Let’s all have a nice dinner.”

Wynonna leans back in her chair, ignoring the food in front of her, and swirls her whiskey in her glass. Her eyes connect with Waverly’s. “So, is it true, baby girl?”

“Your food is going to get cold,” Rosita says encouragingly.

Wynonna ignores her like she’s not even there and continues. “We’re waiting.”

“We’ve barely talked Waves; can you just tell us what’s going on?” Chrissy asks.

“I know.” Waverly whispers.

“Whatever it is Angel, you can tell us. We’re all here for you.”

Nicole clears her throat and pushes out of her chair. Dave follows her across the room to Waverly’s side, where she stands dutifully.

Nicole trails her hands lovingly down Waverly’s arms. Waverly’s hand goes to Nicole’s wrist and she glances up, connecting their eyes. Nicole smiles and nods, her eyes giving Waverly life. She can do this with Nicole. Nicole said she’s here no matter what. Nicole is her wife.

Nicole dips down and kisses Waverly’s cheek, “You can do this. I’m here,” she whispers.

Waverly’s eyes shut and everything around them melts away. It’s just them floating in a pool, eyes closed under the moonlight cast around them.

This is our pool she sings. Their arms and legs stretch out like water skippers and they luxuriate in the peace. She wishes she could stay here forever.

“Just say it, baby girl.”

Waverly opens her eyes to Nicole’s still shining down on her, patiently waiting for Waverly to take the lead. Waverly takes in a deep breath and braces herself. “I’m—"

******************************              *************************                 ************************

“…not pregnant.” Waverly reveals. She takes a deep breath and lets it out again. God, it feels so good to get that much out and see the hint of relief on Nicole’s face. “I didn’t tell you because there’s nothing to tell.”

“But why were you buying a pregnancy test?” Nicole asks.

“I did buy a test. I thought for a second that I might be pregnant, and I was scared, and I just wanted to deal with it alone, or at least long enough to take the test. I planned on telling you, but I was sick, and it was so nice having you there taking care of me. I didn’t want that to stop with something that could have been. I never imagined Jolene would write it up in an article, or I would have told you so much sooner. I didn’t know you would find out this way.”

Nicole’s quiet for a minute. Then out of nowhere she bursts into laughter. Waverly gawks at her confused.

“Why are you laughing?” she demands.

Nicole stops, “Sometimes you just have to laugh at the crazy or it will eat you alive.” Nicole lets out a relieved sigh. “Jolene’s such a royal bitch.”

Waverly settles back on her heels, chuckling in relief. “She really is the worst.”

“Totally the worst.” Nicole leans close and brushes her hands up Waverly’s shoulders, she ducks her head to meet Waverly’s gaze. “I’m really glad you’re not pregnant…but I would have been here for you if you were.”

“Don’t lie…you don’t like kids. Not even when you were one, remember?”

“That’s true.” Nicole smiles. “They’re loud, and smelly…and to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to share my candy, but for you? I’d do it. I’d do this with you.”

Waverly drapes her arms over Nicole’s shoulders feeling like a stack of bricks has been lifted off her chest, and squeezes Nicole closer. “What are we going to do? Everyone’s going to think I’m pregnant for real.”

Nicole rests her head in the crook of Waverly’s neck and rocks their hug soothingly. “I’m sure Eliza and Robin will find a way to make it worse.” She chuckles.

“That’s not funny.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,”  Nicole says. “We’ll make this okay, somehow.”

Waverly sits back on her heels, her arms still draped loosely over Nicole’s shoulders. “What about Jolene? She’s not going to stop. There will be something else.”

“That I don’t know yet,” Nicole says. Her expression shifts to something more somber and a little less encouraging. “She is dangerous, Waverly. She could really cause some problems…but we’ll figure that out too. I promise.”

******************************              *************************                 ************************

Dr. Svane grins at having piqued their interest. Waverly and Nicole both wide-eyed and speechless, gawk at the cash on the table.

“What kind of a game?” Waverly swallows. She licks her lips. That’s easily three times as much as Dr. Svane has ever offered her before. That can’t be a good sign, but she can’t deny her curiosity.

“I want you to lie…” Dr. Svane begins. His lips tighten into a wayward smile, trouble stretched thin over his lips, he breathes out manipulation and deception. Waverly can’t tell whose side he is on or what his game is, but she is sure as hell it’s not hers. “—to everyone. As far as your friends…families… Eliza knows, you’re pregnant.”

Waverly can’t possibly do that. She shakes her head. “No way. I am not doing that.”

Nicole slides forward, elbows propped up on her knees, and perches her chin on her clasped hands. Her brow furrows in consideration. “For how long?”

How can Nicole even be considering this right now? Gus already knows and Wynona would never forgive Waverly for lying. “Nicole, no,” Waverly pleads.  

“That’s up to you really,” Dr. Svane discloses, and as if he were all in, he thrust the cash closer to them like chips in poker.

“How do we end it?” Nicole continues, despite Waverly’s protests. Waverly stares at her in disbelief. She won’t do this. Nicole doesn’t get to make this decision for the both of them. It’s her body, her fake pregnancy, and her family she’d be lying to.

“It doesn’t matter how you do it or how you finish it. There is only one rule…and that is to convince everyone you are having a baby. No exceptions. Not a sister, an aunt,” he raises a challenging eyebrow at Waverly, “an ex-boyfriend …not even an ex-wife.”

“No.” Waverly protests, but Nicole talks over her.

“Yes.”

******************************              *************************                 ************************

“You can’t seriously be considering this, Nicole.”

“Damn straight I am.” Nicole says. She perches on the back of the couch and watches Waverly pace from kitchen to foyer. “That’s a lot of fucking money and I, for one, am here for it.”

“I don’t care about the money! I can’t lie to my family. I can’t lie to Wynonna…besides, I already told Gus the truth.”

“You’re going to un-tell her,” Nicole says matter-of-factly, like it’s so simple. Waverly growls as she trudges past with hardly a glance at Nicole.

Nicole reaches behind her to the couch, plunges her hand between the cushions, and comes back with an open package of licorice. It has to be stale by now. “Listen, sweetheart. This is all just a game. A giant game. It’s better if we don’t fight it and play along. Just trust me. I’m really good at games.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Waverly mumbles, begrudgingly making another pass. She can’t believe the way Nicole just disregards her feelings, as if she doesn’t have a say in this at all. “How would we even do it?”

Nicole smiles. She plucks a piece of red candy from the package and it flops around limp in her hand as she speaks. “We already know what PGE wants. They just want a good show. They want good ratings. They want…money.”

Waverly stops abruptly in front of Nicole, arms folded, she raises her shoulders in question. “What about Dr. Svane? His motives seem more…sinister.”

“Agreed, I haven’t totally figured out what his game is, but I still vote we play it. There’s only one rule. How hard can it be?”

Nicole tugs at the licorice with her teeth stretching it thin until it gives and snaps in two. Waverly rolls her eyes and resumes pacing.

“Easy for you to say Nicole. It’s not your family that we’ll be lying to.” She stops again considering what she said, and how it might have been unfair. She knows little about Nicole’s family, where they are, what they’re like, or if Nicole talks to them. Waverly suspects not, judging by their absence at Nicole’s wedding. Waverly never once thought to ask how Nicole felt about that, or any of it.

Waverly glances over her shoulder. Nicole’s quiet, focused on her chewing. “At least not to their faces.” Nicole adds. 

Waverly rolls her eyes again at her own insensitivity. Her shoulders slump weighted with guilt. “I’m sorry.” She shuffles over to Nicole taking her free hand between her own. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do it…I do trust you.”

Nicole blinks at her silently with big honey brown eyes. For a minute Waverly thinks Nicole’s going to be mad and lash out. Maybe she deserves it.

Nicole tears her licorice into two again and tucks the fruity tidbit in her cheek. “Okay. We’re going to use this game to fight Jolene.”

“How?”

“Jolene loves chaos. She praises it and she eats up the drama on a whole other level of bitch. Jolene’s power is knowledge. I don’t know where the fuck she gets her intel from, but she has an all access pass to our lives right now, sweetheart, and we have to take her power away. With me so far?”

“I think so?”

“If we take away Jolene’s story and tell it ourselves, make it our idea, then she doesn’t have that power anymore. She can’t threaten us with it, right?”

“Jolene’s just another bully.” Waverly nods. She’s good at fighting bullies. When she was twelve, she wacked Champ in the balls with a stick after he tried to lock Chrissy in a porta potty. He such a real dick and three quarters.

“Exactly. So, we invite your family over for dinner, because I know they’re all wondering, and we announce you’re pregnant to everyone on national television. We let PGE tell this story. PGE will get what they want, Dr. Svane gets what he wants, and we…we buy ourselves some time until we can figure out how to get you…” Nicole gestures with her piece of licorice, “un-pregnant.”

“Okay,” Waverly reluctantly agrees.

“One last thing.” Nicole says, and sets aside the licorice. It drops back into the couch cushion where it will remain for who knows how long this time, and Nicole slides from her perch to stand in front of Waverly. “I don’t want Champ to be involved.” Taking Waverly’s hands, she laces their fingers and leans in close enough to rest her forehead against Waverly’s. “I want this to be our baby.”

Waverly slides her hands up Nicole’s chest and locks them around Nicole’s neck. She tilts her had to see Nicole’s gentle eyes and soft smile, and molds their lips together. Sometimes Nicole makes things seem so completely normal, she forgets about the crazy. “Okay, it’s our baby.”

Nicole kisses her again. Her hand glides over Waverly’s stomach. Waverly brushes it off. “Don’t…do that,” Waverly says.

“Sorry-sorry.” Nicole stammers. “It was like a reflex you know? It won’t happen again.”

Waverly shushes her and tugs her back into a kiss. “Don’t stop doing that .” She smiles.

******************************              *************************                 ************************

Here it is. The big one. More than anything, she doesn’t want to lie to her sister. After how indignant she was with Wynonna, how she demanded honesty. How un-fucking fair would it be, for her to offer so much as a fib right now. But she made a deal to play a game with Dr. Svane. There is only one rule. No exceptions.

Waverly’s gaze drifts around the room, taking in glimpses of each face waiting for her to answer. Gus already knows the truth and Waverly’s going to have to convince her otherwise.

“Waverly and I decided to start a family.” Nicole says.

Gus leans forward, concern in her eyes, her hand on Waverly’s arm. “Waverly, I thought you said—”

“I lied Aunt Gus,” Waverly interrupts. Avoiding the hurt in Gus’s eyes. She’s never lied to Aunt Gus before and it breaks her heart. Aunt Gus shakes her head.

“I don’t understand your decisions right now Waverly, how is this going to help you achieve your goals? What about school?”

“I know. But this is what we decided to do,” Waverly says.

“It’s Champ’s, isn’t it,” Wynonna demands. “Come on Waverly, we all know you’re better than this. This isn’t something you would just decide…not now. Not with Nicole,” she adds bitterly.

Nicole snorts her agitation.

“And you.” Wynonna continues glaring at Nicole now. “We both know you don’t want this.”

For a minute Waverly’s worried there will be another incident like the one they had in the front yard, or worse, but Wynonna doesn’t direct any more of her attention to Nicole. Her eyes fall back to Waverly. “Waverly, what were you thinking? I thought you were smarter than this.”

Waverly takes stock of the cameras. Derek kneels next to her. Dave behind to the side of Nicole, and Rosita’s and Robin look shocked. Where’s Eliza?

“You’re just as bad as your mother,” Daddy sputters.

“Enough,” Nicole says.

“Irresponsible with no regard to consequences,” he slurs.

“Now that’s just not true and you know it,” Uncle Julian protests.

“Just another slut.”

“Hey!” Chrissy cries. Uncle Julian grumbles something too and Nicole smacks her hand on the table. Daddy knocks over his drink with a shaky hand. It startles everyone. Jeremy jumps up with a napkin and sops up the table. Wynonna keeps staring at Waverly. Uncle Julian helps clean up the mess.

“Waverly honey, I know you’re better than this. I don’t understand what’s going on but you’re a good kid. I don’t agree that now is the right time to have a baby, but mistakes happen, if that’s what this is…” Aunt Gus whispers. “If what you told me was true?”

Waverly wants to tell her this is the lie. That she told the truth before.

“Waverly, is this really what you want? To have a baby?” Chrissy asks.

Waverly looks to Nicole. It was Nicole’s idea to lie about it being their baby. She doesn’t know what’s worse. Convincing her family that she’s making a shitty choice or convincing her family that she made a shitty mistake.

“Whatever you want Waverly,” Nicole whispers, picking up on Waverly’s indecisiveness. “I’m here,” she reiterates.

Waverly decides. “No.” She sighs. She watches Wynonna nodding her head in an almost cruel way. It won’t matter what Waverly’s answer is at this point. Waverly knows her sister. Wynonna will take her answer and leave.

Waverly closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “This is not what I want,” she admits. She doesn’t want any of this and she wishes she could just say that, tell the truth. This game is stupid, and she can hardly look at them as she stutters out these lies.

Temptation flares up again. Would it be so bad to say the hell with it and scream, Jolene’s a big fat liar and I’m not pregnant ? She shakes her head fighting back the tears swelling in her eyes. That’s not going to happen, because Eliza’s back in the corner. She nods and mouths come on keep going , and Derek’s beside her watching with his camera. Robin and Rosita are huddled in the opposite corner uselessly, out of view from the lens.

“It’s Champ’s.” She grimaces. Nicole sighs. Waverly understands Nicole didn’t want Champ to be involved. She didn’t want him to think he had a baby. “I slept with him and…” she sweeps her hand across the table as if to gesture to the problem itself. “This happened. But Nicole is here. She’s supporting me and we’re going to figure this out.” Somehow.

Wynonna nods acrimoniously and pushes out from the table. “This is just another problem for me to deal with,” she spits, and downs the last swig of whiskey from her glass. It hits the table hard when she puts down the glass. Her glance is brief at Waverly before she bolts from the room, slamming every door behind her.

******************************              *************************                 ************************

“You both did a great job tonight,” Eliza praises. “I think America will be satisfied with your family’s display…it wasn’t exactly tossed dinner rolls but…” she shrugs.

More like tossing whiskey and harsh words. “Do you think it will be enough?” Waverly asks. Nicole wraps her arms around Waverly’s waist from behind and lowers her chin to Waverly’s shoulders. She couldn’t have done this without Nicole. Her family would have broken her. The fighting would have broken her.

Nicole handles the chaos better. She flips some magical switch inside of her and goes into stealth mode, no longer phased by the petty bullshit that a family can bring to the table. She an outsider. She doesn’t care about all the hard feelings and family history. She only cares about Waverly.

“I think only time will tell, but I have a good feeling. We’ll be recording your commentary on the evening over the next few days. I’ll have Robin contact you with the exact day. Otherwise, the night’s yours.” She winks and leaves out the door, leaving them alone in the foyer.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart,”  Nicole whispers.

“I don’t know why. I just lied to my entire family and my two best friends. I feel like an asshole.”

“You are not an asshole.” Nicole kisses the corner of Waverly’s jaw and below it on her neck. “Definitely not an asshole.”

Waverly leans into her and sighs. She sure feels like an asshole. “Nicole, what am I?”

Nicole chuckles. Waverly wouldn’t be surprised if Nicole enjoyed the madness just a little. Waverly would be certain of it, if it didn’t kill her so much to watch her family fight. Nicole gets riled up when it comes to Waverly. Despite having a calm presence, she can get a feral look in her eye and she bites when she needs to.

“That’s easy. You are extraordinary.”  

******************************              *************************                 ************************

Waverly tosses her shoes to the end of the bed; they tumble to the floor with a soft clap and a jingle from the tiny metal buckle. She reaches her arms awkwardly over her shoulders clawing at her back for the damn zipper to her dress. Who puts a zipper in the most difficult place to reach anyway? She finds herself spinning around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. Frustrated, she slaps her hands to her sides and growls for dramatic effect.

Nicole leans against the dresser, arms folded over her chest. She ducks her head, those honey brown eyes gaze up through long dark lashes, and almost bashfully, she smiles. Deep delicious dimples ripple each cheek, and in a maddeningly sexy way, Nicole bites her lower lip.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Waverly asks, on the verge of blushing. No one’s ever looked at her like that. She’s not sure how to stand without tipping over, in the very definition of a swoon, in sight of those heavy lidded bedroom eyes.

 “Because,” Nicole answers in a near breathless whisper. Her tongue flickers out over her lower lip wetting it a bright strawberry red, an eyebrow arches, and she smiles again. “I can’t help it.”

How does Nicole do that? How does she make Waverly feel so damn desirable, as if Nicole couldn’t pick any girl? Nicole watches Waverly swaying nervously like she is the girl, the only girl that Nicole has ever wanted.

Waverly pretends she is the only girl Nicole has ever taken in that bed, insisting she falls in love with silky kisses, writhing in the desperate rhythm of their bodies. The words just wet on her lips, etched in Nicole’s back, and thrusting up inside of her so she never forgets them. Her heart skips a beat … thump …and adds another… thump thump, at just the thought of Nicole taking her to bed right now to remind her.

All but breathless herself, Waverly bites her own lip, hardly fighting the grin spreading across her face. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Nicole says, and pushes off the dresser. A soft warm light glows in her eyes like a candle in a dark room, amber in color, brightening everything around it, everything it touches. It brightens Waverly too.

The intensity increases with every step until Nicole is standing in front of Waverly. She dips her head, her nose and lips bumping against Waverly’s cheek. Waverly’s eyes close to Nicole’s staccato breath hot in her ear, she can almost hear a whisper. Fall in love with me , and it coils around her heart, delicate as lace. Make me , she dares, only this brave in Nicole’s arms. I’ll fall if you fall.

Nicole takes Waverly gently by the shoulders and circles her around so her back is to Nicole, and she’s facing the full length mirror in the corner. “I can’t take my eyes off of you, sweetheart.” Eyes connecting only in their reflection, Nicole runs her hand up the outside of Waverly’s thigh bunching up the fabric of her dress. She pauses just below Waverly’s hip and presses a kiss to the point of Waverly’s shoulder. “And I don’t want to,” Nicole husks, and it hits Waverly right between her legs.

Waverly revels in Nicole’s gaze. The way those eyes wander over her. The danger they impose. The dirty thoughts they trigger. She’d fall over if Nicole didn’t have an arm around her waist, the way those eyes make her tremble.  She gathers up her hair in one hand and drapes it over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck and the zipper. “Don’t then.”

A sinful smirk stretches over Nicole’s lips, she lets go of the bunched up fabric of Waverly’s dress, and accepts the invitation. The zipper parts easily down Waverly’s spine. Waverly shivers at the cool air passing over the exposed skin of her back. Nicole presses another kiss to the base of her neck. It’s hot, then cools instantly when Nicole moves onto the next just below, and another below that.

Their eyes connect again in the mirror. Nicole gives her that lust-glazed look, like Waverly is the only one. “I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before,” she hurries out breathlessly.

A part of Waverly falls right then and there, plummets into oblivion at the warm thought of Nicole wanting her . “I want you too,” she says, but it’s inaudible, and it doesn’t matter. Nicole’s too focused to notice.

Nicole’s fingers hook under the straps of Waverly’s dress and she slips them down her arms, then holds the dress in place with her hand at Waverly’s waist. “You’re my sweetheart,” she smiles, nuzzling against Waverly’s ear. She takes it between her teeth and gives it a little tug.

Waverly groans. Yes, I’m yours.

They both watch the mirror in shared fascination as the dress sheds like a cocoon, and it pools at Waverly’s feet, leaving her nearly naked and glowing in Nicole’s candlelit eyes. She blossoms like a butterfly, confidently stretching out her wings, she pivots in Nicole’s arms, threads her fingers in strands of red hair, and eagerly pulls Nicole into a kiss.

Waverly runs her tongue along Nicole’s lower lip and sucks it into her mouth. Nicole still tastes like whiskey from dinner, sweet and smoky, and Waverly savors it. She guides Nicole back with their kiss and her hands at Nicole’s waist until the backs of Nicole’s knees hit the mattress, and she’s forced to sit.

Nicole curves an arm around Waverly’s waist, bending her body close, painting hot wet kisses down her chest, and as much of her stomach as Nicole can reach. So smooth and salacious, Nicole’s hand sweeps up the back of Waverly’s thigh, and over white cotton, and she takes one of Waverly’s nipples into her mouth.

Waverly throws her head back in a gasp, fingers knotting in Nicole’s hair, and the arm around her waist tightens, steadying her. Nicole pulls away. Looking up she places a loving kiss to the center of Waverly’s chest. “Lay down?” she says. It comes out more of a demand than a question.

Waverly shudders. She’s used to being the bossy one, telling Nicole what to do, but maybe she likes to be told what to do sometimes too. On the other hand, …

Waverly’s fingers release the top two buttons of Nicole’s shirt. She slides her hands under the collar and against warm skin, scratching lightly across Nicole’s shoulders. She leans close, scrapes her teeth just over the shell of Nicole’s ear, and whispers, “You first.”

Nicole chuckles and takes Waverly’s other nipple into her mouth sucking and rolling around her tongue. Her fingers hook into the waist of Waverly’s cotton underwear and she guides them down Waverly’s legs. Nicole releases Waverly’s nipple, breathless, and gazes over Waverly’s body, admiring every inch, while her hands roam over Waverly’s naked ass.

“Okay,” she says. She gently moves Waverly aside so she can toe off her Timberlands, then drags herself back onto the bed, and stretches out on her back.

Waverly crawls across the bed after Nicole and straddles her, hips pinned between Waverly’s thighs. Hands splayed over Nicole’s ribs, she gazes down appreciatively at her tall sexy piece of licorice, hair bleeding red across the pillow, eyes dark and rich like whiskey, it burns through her. She’s drunk on lust and the taste of Nicole’s kiss on the tip of her tongue. Those lips are addicting. Desperation sears through her veins, cheeks hot and flushed, she knows she’s already dripping wet, because Jesus fuck , her wife’s a snack.

Waverly leans in and presses open-mouth kisses along the column of Nicole’s throat and across the sharp edge of her collarbone. Her own hair falls around her like a curtain, and pools on Nicole’s chest. “You’re mine too,” she declares, quiet again, so Nicole doesn’t hear. Her fingers find Nicole’s buttons again and she works them down one by one, replacing each with a kiss. One against Nicole’s chest, one at the mid-point between her breasts and above her bra, another between her ribs, and a trail down her stomach, only stopping when Nicole’s belt buckle scrapes underneath her chin.

She slides herself down Nicole’s body to reach the last spot and places a lingering kiss there, swirling her tongue around Nicole’s belly button, and brushes Nicole’s shirt to her sides. Nicole groans. Waverly gazes up at her, over the expanse of her stomach and her chest, both rising heavily with her increasing heartbeat, while Waverly’s own heart skips a beat when their eyes meet.

Waverly gets brave again. Her fingers tremble. Excited and nervous, she unfastens the buckle to Nicole’s belt, and boldly tugs it loose. It hits the floor with a thud and a louder jingle than Waverly’s shoes did. She keeps her lips close, dragging them over Nicole’s stomach along the hem of her jeans. The button comes loose easily, and the sound of the zipper is thrilling.

Waverly peers up at Nicole again to see if she’s watching. Nicole holds her captive in that lusty stare, it only encourages her. She slips her fingers in the waistband of Nicole’s jeans. Her heart adds an extra beat and she kisses one last kiss to Nicole’s stomach before she slides herself off of Nicole, and shimmies down Nicole’s jeans.

Nicole tucks her arm behind her head and waits patiently for Waverly, who’s still, eyeing those three little buttons, so small, and so sexy. Waverly’s tongue flickers out over her lower lip. She wants those buttons.

Waverly settles between Nicole’s legs, face to face with them, and runs her fingers over each one. She smirks proudly at the way Nicole’s body reacts to her touch.  She considers starting at Nicole’s inner thigh with her lips and her tongue, teasing her way under Nicole’s underwear and pushing them aside. Curious to know if Nicole will beg. It’s tempting, but Waverly’s impatient.

All temptations aside, she strips Nicole of her underwear and nestles back between her legs. The first pass of her tongue is sweet and delicious, but the desperate whimper that flutters off Nicole’s lips fuels a wildfire deep inside her.

She grasps Nicole’s hips, keeping them pinned to the mattress, while her tongue glides easily through wet folds, flickering and swirling greedily. Nicole’s fingers comb roughly through Waverly’s hair, clearing tangled strands from her face, just enough for her to look up and marvel at Nicole—her neck extended, head thrown back, and lips parted for her jagged breath, and she cries out for the first time.

Waverly’s never seen Nicole so vulnerable as she appears right now. She realizes that this is her chance to give Nicole that feeling, the consistent inconsistencies of her heart, all the skipping and the fluttering that takes her breath away. This could be the moment she makes Nicole fall into oblivion with her.

Nicole squirms, hips shaking to the rhythm of Waverly’s tongue, body clenching and pulsing around her. Nicole must be falling. Waverly can see she’s close. Fall in love with me, Waverly insists, and thrusts in two fingers bowing Nicole’s back. Nicole moans again and this time Waverly’s name rolls off her tongue. Waverly thrusts harder and faster bringing Nicole closer to the edge.

Nicole’s nails clawing into her scalp, Waverly finds herself burning up in that feeling. She might disintegrate into pieces. She’s never wanted something so bad as she wants to make Nicole come right now, and burn with her.

“Keep going,” Nicole begs, as if Waverly would stop now, with Nicole tightening around her, holding her inside. Nicole cries out one last time, loud and raspy, and her body relaxes again, limp on the mattress. Waverly kisses her way back up Nicole’s body soothing every last tremble in Nicole’s tired muscles.

“Was that okay?”

Nicole smiles at her, gazing up through fluttering lashes. “That was perfect, sweetheart.”  

******************************              *************************                 ************************

Nicole rolls off Waverly in a heap onto the bed beside her. Both panting blissfully, they’re still for the first time in hours. In Waverly’s opinion, she just had a series of intense out of body experiences.

“That was good,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole’s gasps, then clears her throat theatrically. “Just good?” she challenges. “Try amazing.”

“Amazing,” Waverly agrees.

Nicole chuckles and shifts her weight on the bed, digging through her nightstand. Waverly ignores the initial rustling, her gaze lingering on the ceiling. She soaks in the smell of vanilla clinging to the soft sheets and the taste of Nicole still on her lips, and smiles.

“Amazing,” she says again.

She lays there a while longer, eyes up, reveling in their scents mixed together, and the image of Nicole undressing her in the mirror, the silkiness of their tongues gliding together, the skippy thing Waverly’s heart does for Nicole.

It could be the stress of her fake pregnancy or wanting Nicole to love her, either way the doubt sets in, and she starts to wonder if Nicole’s heart skips a beat here and adds another there, for her?

The familiar crackling of plastic brings her eyes back down to the mattress. To Waverly’s disbelief, Nicole rolls over with an unwrapped Tootsie Pop. She sucks it into her mouth and twists it.

“What?” Nicole asks in response to the raging scowl on Waverly’s face.

“Is there candy in your nightstand?”

“Yeah,” she admits shamelessly. “So?”

“Wow,” Waverly responds in utter disillusionment.

Nicole shakes her head dismissively and reclines against her pillow. It creates the image that this is simply standard operating procedure for all of Nicole’s sexual conquests. It’s just another lay for her, and Waverly is just another girl.

“Wow,” Waverly repeats to herself.

Waverly doesn’t want to be irritated, she just can’t fucking help it. The sight of that sucker, the thought of the wrapper and where it ended up, a shower drain, the porch? It sends her mind into maddening places. How can she crave the love of someone who drives her so damn crazy? Looking at Nicole with her Tootsie Pop, all Waverly can think is, heartbreaker .

“Did you love Kevin?” she asks, picturing Kevin or some other girl lying here while Nicole sucks on a Tootsie Pop, because that’s where her insecurities have taken her, making her feel like a stage five clinger.

Nicole blinks wide-eyed, she pulls the Tootsie Pop from her lips, and she shakes her head cautiously. “No.”

“Well, what was she to you then?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole shrugs, and resorts to spinning the Tootsie Pop between her fingers, focusing on it instead of Waverly’s biting glare. “Fun I guess.”

“Fun?” Waverly throws her head back dramatically into her overstuffed pillow, folds her arms over her chest, and huffs. Fun. “What am I to you?”

Fine, maybe Waverly’s looking for trouble. She can’t help feeling like she had cracked open her chest and offered her heart to Nicole on a silver platter. Vulnerability never looked good on her.

Nicole discards the Tootsie Pop to her nightstand and rotates to her side facing Waverly. Her hands immediately comb through Waverly’s hair in an attempt to reassure her. “Sweetheart, I’ve told you. You’re everything to me.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. She presses her hands lightly into Nicole’s chest and tilts her head back meeting Nicole’s honey gold gaze, and the ghost of charming dimples shadowing each cheek. That’s not good enough. “But…what does that mean?” She gestures her hand awkwardly between them. “We’ve done this .”

“We’ve done what? Had sex?” Waverly nods, but it’s not what she really wants to say. Clearly caught off guard by the sudden third degree, Nicole tries to soothe her with a smile. “Waverly, this isn’t the first time we’ve done this and it’s not what I care about most anyway.”

Waverly shakes her head as if to shake the words out of her mouth, afraid to be so bold to ask. “I mean…do you love me?”

That’s what she really wants Nicole to say, the thing that’s driving her mad, that would give her superiority over every girl that’s ever looked at Nicole. She needs to hear it before she can let herself feel it.

Nicole’s eyes are wide again, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water, searching for the right words. She’s going to let Waverly down easy. She doesn’t love Waverly. Of course, she doesn’t.

Waverly stops breathing. The only movement in her chest is her heart cartwheeling around until it stops too, flat lining in anticipation. She knows she shouldn’t push this. If Nicole doesn’t love her, she doesn’t want to hear it. It was a mistake to ask. She wishes she could take it back.

“I understand.” Waverly chokes out. “It’s okay.”

 Nicole hooks a finger under Waverly’s jaw to lift her gaze. Stubborn, Waverly fights it and refuses to look up. “Where is this coming from, sweetheart?”

Waverly doesn’t get a chance to answer. The doorbell rings and they both freeze.

“Who’s that?”

“Wynonna?” Nicole offers.

“No. She wouldn’t be so polite.”

“Good point.” Nicole rolls out of bed in all her naked glory, grabs her bra off the floor with her foot, and slips it on, covering her perfect chest. “Stay here.”

“What? Nicole no.”

“I’ll be right back.” Nicole shoves her legs into her skinny jeans, yanking them over her naked ass and fastening them around her hips. She pats her front pocket where her knife is still secured. “Stay,” she reiterates.

Waverly doesn’t listen. She’s throwing aside the blankets before Nicole’s padding down the stepss. She slips Nicole’s Nirvana tank over her head and a pair of Nicole’s Tomboy boxer briefs. She rolls them at the top, transforming them into loose fitting shorts. They stay up well enough.

Her first step down the stairs and there’s a knock on the door. She freezes, deer-in-the-headlights style. It’s 2:00 am, no one should be knocking on their door. No one good anyway.

Nicole catches Waverly out of the corner of her eye. She frowns disapprovingly. “I told you to stay.”

“You’re not my boss,” Waverly snaps, feeling a little on edge; every sound is startling.

There’s a second knock on the door, followed by a soft thud. Footsteps echo out the front screen door, it smacks shut, and a rumbling car engine fades out into the distance. Nicole leans against the door and peeks through the peephole. 

“Do you see anything?” Waverly whispers. She shuffles down the top few steps cautiously hugging the wall.

“No. Nothing,” Nicole whispers back. 

Nicole doesn’t take her eye from the peephole, and blindly reaches for the doorknob, unlocking it as quietly as possible.

“No wait,” Waverly says nervously, taking the last few steps down the stairs.

Nicole glances over her shoulder.“It’s okay. No one’s there. I can see that much.” 

Waverly’s skeptical. She’s seen Dateline. This is how it starts. Some creepy guy knocks on the front door pretending to sell vacuums, and the next thing they know, one of them is dead in the bathtub while the other flees town suspected of murder. “Unless they’re squatting so that you can’t see them at all.”

“I don’t think so sweetheart, but I think they left something on the porch.”

Of course, they did. “What if it’s a bomb?” Waverly squeals.

Nicole scowls over shoulder. “Who do you think I am? The Chicken Man?” she retorts.

“Well….” Waverly shrugs, and Nicole rolls her eyes in irritation.

Nicole cracks open the door and peeks her head out before opening it a little more. “It's not a bomb.”

“What is it?” Waverly asks.

Nicole doesn’t respond. She disappears out the door and comes back with a large cardboard box, and by the way she carries it, it’s not heavy. Nicole sets the box down gently in the foyer. When it hits the floor it starts singing in a cartoonish voice and an eerie mechanical chime. They’re definitely about to end up on Dateline.

“ All around the mulberry bush…the monkey chased the weasel, ”

Waverly squeals again and runs to Nicole, clinging to her arm, and hiding behind her like a human shield. Waverly’s heart pounds in her ears keeping time with each haunting note.

“ The monkey thought 'twas all in fun... ” 

It pauses.

Nicole creeps closer. Waverly shuffles behind her. Waverly lets go when Nicole slips the knife from her front pocket and kneels in front of the box.

“Wait. Don’t open it…something’s wrong with it.”

The knife springs open, and Nicole cautiously slices through the tape along the center. “ Pop! ” She falls back on her ass. Waverly shrieks and leaps back. “— goes the weasel.”

Blue and pink balloons burst from the box and flow delicately on strings anchored inside. They bob together bouncing off one another until they settle and sway in the circulating air. Nicole and Waverly stare in shared confusion.

Nicole adjusts to her elbows and lets the knife slip from her hand. She gets herself back to her knees and peers over the box. Waverly can’t see her face, but Nicole’s whole body goes rigid.

“What is it?” Waverly squeaks. “What’s in the box?”

Against her better judgment, Waverly joins Nicole in front of the box. Nicole cradles in her hand a smaller box wrapped with a silver bow. No tag. She carefully lifts the lid and extracts the contents. The onesie unfolds in her hands for them both to see.

It’s so tiny, plain and white, except the symbol painted on the front, just like the one on Nicole’s ribs, Wynonna’s neck, and Kevin’s wrist.

He marks all his children.

Creepy crawlies ripple along Waverly’s spine and over her scalp, spreading goosebumps across every inch of her skin. Their plan to lie about this pregnancy has just become ten times less appealing, and a hundred times more dangerous.

Waverly swallows hard. “Fuck me.”  

Chapter Text

“Nicole, slow down. It’s getting dark.” Waverly says for the third time, watching the shadows of the trees whip by, and for the third time, Nicole shakes her head.

“No,” she grunts.

Every time the Jeep hits a pothole Waverly floats from her seat and gets that fluttery feeling in her stomach. Allowing Nicole to drive was against her better judgment, especially after Nicole admitted to flunking her driver’s test more than once. It isn’t surprising considering she’s terrible at taking directions, and disregards the speed limits altogether.

“What if you hit something?” 

 “Like what?” 

“I don’t know...a person?” 

Nicole drags her eyes off the road long enough to stick Waverly with a questioning glance. Waverly double…no, triple checks her seatbelt. It’s unnerving, those dark eyes lingering over her, while Nicole, being such a wild and impetuous thing, blindly drives them into the night. The fear grows as one of Nicole’s hands falls from the steering wheel and lands in her lap.  

“What person?” she challenges.

“Geez Louise. Any person, Nicole!” 

Nicole shrugs one shoulder, so easy to dismiss Waverly, as if her worries are complete and utter nonsense, and no one in the history of time has ever been in a car accident. “I don’t see anyone.”

There isn't anyone. Not around here. People don’t willingly wander down the highway on foot. No sane person anyway. Though, that’s not enough assurance for Waverly to feel any better about Nicole’s inattentive driving. 

It doesn’t matter. She could argue with Nicole all night and it would be as good as screaming at a brick wall. She slouches in her seat and accepts it. Nicole’s grumpassery isn’t going to ruin her excitement for The Ghost River County Fair.  Nicole’s never taken her on a date before, and fuck it , she’s pretty darn stoked.

Nicole jabs her finger into the stereo console and cranks up the volume. Waverly slaps her hands over her ears. All aboard! belts out of the speakers and the sudden volume shakes her like an earthquake. Discombobulated and overwhelmed, she throws herself back against her seat for a dramatic second. Crazy Train ruptures her eardrums. 

“Nicole!” she yells, but is not heard. She can barely find the stereo console through the chest-rattling bass that’s somehow blinding, and the heavy metal strums of the electric guitar. “Too loud!” 

After some manic fumbling around the center console she manages to smack it in the right spot, stopping the violent noise pollution. Her ears ring at a dizzying volume. “I think I’m deaf,” she whines.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Nicole says and reaches for the dial again. Waverly swats her hand away. 

“No loud rock music!” she yells through the ringing. She massages her screaming ears in an attempt to soothe them back to normal.  “The passenger gets to DJ , everybody knows that,” she points out. 

Nicole glares at Waverly. The Jeep makes a slight swerve. Waverly’s hands drop to the seat and her fingers dig into the upholstery. 

“You never let me DJ when I’m the passenger.” 

“That’s because it’s my Jeep. Car owners make the rules.” 

“You mean you make the rules...like always,” Nicole mumbles. She refocuses on the road in front of her and makes a turn off the highway toward the fairgrounds. Streetlights brighten their path and bring some relief to Waverly.

The ringing in her ears subsides enough that she doesn’t feel like she has to yell. “Happy wife. Happy life,” she recites in a sing-song voice, and adjusts her seatbelt from where it cuts into her neck. In the likely event Nicole rear-ends someone she doesn’t want to be decapitated. 

“Except when that wife is me.” 

“Now who’s being dramatic.” 

From the back of the Jeep, Eliza clears her throat, shattering the illusion that this is a normal date between a normal couple. The reality of TV life involves a lot of Eliza, Robin, and Derek crammed into the backseat, and GoPros suction cupped to the windows.

“A little less bickering maybe?” Robin suggests. “How about some light conversation.”

Waverly sags against her seat and lets her head roll to face Nicole. She bats her eyes, though she doubts it has the effect she’s going for. “Did you sleep okay?” she asks. 

Nicole is silent. She’s not a small talker. That’s been obvious from day one. Sometimes she’ll talk about books or music, and the laundry list of things she has to fix around the house. Does she ever fix anything though? Who knows? The only thing Nicole does is disappear into that locked room and come out all sweaty in her dirty coveralls. 

Admittedly, Waverly doesn’t hate the sight of it. Her blinding infatuation dampens out any curiosities about that room. Nine times out of ten she finds herself following Nicole up the stairs and they end up naked and wet together in the shower. 

Picturing Nicole that way sends a rush of heat up Waverly’s neck that spills into her cheeks and stings her ears. F ocus Earp. She swallows and tries again. “Did you fix that zappy thing the hall light switch does?”  

More silence. Waverly concedes. With her arms folded across her chest in a childlike way, she slouches a little more in the car seat, pouting. She can barely see over the dashboard now. “Well, you’re awfully chatty today.”

A heavy sigh escapes the driver’s seat. Nicole hits the brakes abruptly. The seatbelt tightens against Waverly’s throat, and the Jeep slows to a safe thirty-five miles per hour. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Nicole asks. 

“I did,” Waverly chirps, and straightens up in her seat a little. “I got a whole six hours before I woke up cold. Why were you up so early?” She situates herself to see Nicole the best she can within the limits of her seatbelt. It cuts against her throat again. “What were you doing in the locked room...and why is it always locked?” 

Nicole dodges Waverly’s questions with her own.  “Did you clean your stack of women’s magazines off the coffee table? They’ve been there for over a week.” 

“They’re not women’s magazines,” Waverly protests. “They’re home design magazines. I want to paint—”

“There,” Nicole cuts her off with a sharp gesture of her hand. “We’re all caught up.” 

“Such a grumpy pants today,” Waverly mutters to herself. “And slow down. It’s twenty-five through here.” 

“Yes, dear.” Nicole teases with a flippant tone. Her gaze drifts out the driver's side window. It could be Waverly’s imagination, but she’s almost certain she sees a smile in the reflection of the glass.

Waverly isn’t deterred by Nicole’s facetious attitude. She immediately refocuses on their first date. “Sugarbear?” she purrs, and drags a light finger up Nicole’s arm.  

Nicole groans. “Honestly Waverly, of all the names you could call me, you settle on Sugarbear ,” she says wrinkling up her face like it tastes bad.

“It’s cute.” Waverly grins. “because you’re full of candy and you’re cuddly like a bear, mostly at night…well only at night really. You’re a grumpy bear all day, but you’re cute all the same.”  

Nicole laughs.

“I could call you Sugarplum?” Waverly offers.

“Don’t be cruel.”

“Sugar baby?”

“You’re getting colder.”

Waverly smirks and leans over the center console. She twirls her finger around Nicole’s ear tucking a lock of hair there. “It could be, Sugar Daddy ?” she says soft and slightly insinuating.

Nicole laughs again and the Jeep slows to twenty-five.

“No,” she says. Her hand falls to Waverly’s thigh and she gives it a little squeeze. “Sugarbear is fine.”

Waverly grins, satisfied with the agreed-upon endearment, and drops back into her seat, fingers laced with Nicole’s resting in her lap. “Okay, Sugarbear.”

***

Already overexcited and bouncing on her toes, Waverly knots her fingers into Nicole’s t-shirt tugging her closer. 

“Careful with the shirt, sweetheart,” Nicole warns swaying in her grasp.

Waverly releases it and runs her hands over Nicole’s abdomen, smoothing out the creases she created. She thought Rosita was going to have an aneurysm after Nicole meandered downstairs wearing, I licked it so it’s mine, printed on her cut-off t-shirt, and her usual black ripped skinny jeans. Nicole argued she was tired of PGE treating her like a doll, and that pretty blue tank top Rosita picked soared out the bedroom window.

In fairness, Waverly is tired of dresses. She took Nicole’s lead and selected clothes from her own wardrobe, white denim shorts and a red tank top. 

“ Ooh can we go on the Tilt-A-Whirl? That’s my favorite,” Waverly exclaims hooking her fingers in Nicole’s belt loops instead and swaying her a little more.

Nicole shakes her head. In the two minutes it took them to enter the fair and buy tickets, Nicole tracked down a stick of cotton candy like a bloodhound for sugar. She twirls the fluff around her finger and sucks it clean. 

“You can’t ride those,” she says. She pinches another wispy bite from the blue and pink spun sugar, and stuffs it into her mouth. Waverly can smell it as if the over-sweetened grit were on the back of her tongue. “You’re preggers, remember?” 

Waverly gazes at the Tilt-A-Whirl longing for all the centrifugal fun it has to offer. Uncle Julian used to ride it with her for hours when she was a kid, or until Wynonna threw up. “I’m tired of being pregnant,” she pouts.

“Well, that’s what happens when you...” Nicole clears her throat. Her attempt to make a rude gesture with her hands, nearly costs her the stick of cotton candy. “It’s been two months, you’ve got seven to go, little mama.” 

Waverly stomps her foot in a childish protest, and with fingers held up, she lists off her counterpoints. “Okay, first of all. Rude. Second,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “I’m not really preggers.” 

“I know that, but for this date, you are. So, no crazy rides.” Nicole pinches off an even bigger bite this time and tilts her head back to fill her mouth with it. Waverly glares in disgust.

“Why’d you bring me here then if we can’t do anything fun?” 

Nicole shrugs. “Cotton candy.” 

Of course, it’s always about the candy. Why is she surprised? “Really dude?” 

Waverly wilts. Here she thought she might get a little romance tonight, but the only romance to be had is between Nicole and her candy. Waverly folds her arms over her chest and scowls at the line to the Tilt-A-Whirl, jealous of all the children. 

“Alright ladies, let’s get your mics fitted and we’ll get started,” Eliza says meandering over with Robin by her side like the perfect little sidekick. Dave, who showed up seemingly out of nowhere, and Derek follow close behind. Derek’s camera is twice as big as it appeared in the Jeep. 

Robin untangles two cords and hands one to Nicole and one to Waverly.  At this point Waverly feels like a pro snaking the cord under her tank top and fastening the mic to her collar. Robin hooks the transmitter pack to the back of her shorts and connects the two pieces. 

Dave unzips his own camera. It hangs at his side for the time being.

“Alright, so here’s your cue cards so we can avoid another Jeep scenario. We need a little more fairy tale romance from the two of you, and a lot less late-night family sitcom,” Robin instructs.

Waverly accepts the notecard from him. Before she can make out a word, Nicole plucks it from her fingers. Nicole compares it to her own notecard, face all scrunched up with obvious irritation. The notecards are filed together, and Nicole rips them both into tiny pieces. They’re then sprinkled in the dirt around her feet, along with the bare cotton candy stick.

“Pick that up,” Robin demands, but it’s weak and Nicole is clearly not intimidated. “That’s PGE property. We can’t go spreading it around all willy-nilly.”

Eliza’s not paying attention. Her eyes are lost in the LCD screen of her phone. Nicole stares at her and drags her foot through the notecard dotted dirt, smearing them around. “We’re not really notecard people,” she says. 

Then Eliza claps her hands together without any acknowledgment of Nicole’s insubordination. “Let’s roll.” She shooes everyone onward in the direction of the game booths.

“If we can’t ride the rides, what are we going to do?” Waverly asks Nicole.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. This date is about you.”

“But you said you just wanted cotton candy!” Waverly reminds her. 

Nicole chuckles. “I was just teasing you. I brought you here because I thought you would like it.”  

“Oh,” Waverly hesitates, not completely convinced.

They wander between the booths past games with darts and water balloons, bb guns, and tiny basketballs, all bleeding out the mechanical chime of carnival music. Derek hovers over their shoulders. His presence is as wanted as a fly at a picnic. Waverly does her best to ignore him and focus on her date with Nicole.

“So, tell me what you want, and we’ll do it...except the rides,” Nicole says. Her eyes flicker in the direction of Dave’s camera gliding alongside them. “It’s not good for the baby.” 

Waverly considers that Nicole may be slipping into one of her roles now that the cameras are watching. This is a show and Nicole likes the attention. It’s clear how easy it is for her to play pretend and give PGE what they want, or something more grandiose. Sometimes Waverly feels like she is only a prop for Nicole to act with, rather than a member of the team. Though Nicole reassures her that Waverly’s not only part of the team, she’s the captain. Waverly tries to remember that when Nicole makes a decision like the one to lie about her pregnancy.

“ Right .” Waverly winks. She wants this to be real—the good things, the kisses, the loving gestures, all the pretty words Nicole saves for when they’re alone. She holds onto them hoping they’re real, and more and more often, they seem to be.

“I want you to show me a good time. I want to have fun and be cute with you. You know, with hand-holding and prized stuffed unicorns.” 

“Is that all?” Nicole laughs.

“Yes.”

“We’re rolling. Don’t waste my time, ladies,” Eliza butts in.

Nicole cocks her head adorably. “Alright,” she says. Narrowing her big honey brown eyes, she offers a deep dimpled smile. One that makes Waverly dizzier than any Tilt-A-Whirl would. “I’ll show you a good time. I’ll win you that unicorn,” she nods to the game behind them at a man struggling to land a ping pong ball in a greased-up glass bowl. He misses. “ And a goldfish, because Sugarbear is good at all games. We can do whatever you want after that.”

Waverly takes Nicole’s hands. Lacing their fingers together, she gazes up at that dimpled smile. The action causes her to sway. She wants this to be real almost more than anything right now. The thought that Nicole wants to spend time with her, doing something exciting and fun, making her night special, it feels as if her heart could burst, and it would be all right.

Still the uncertainty restrains her. She doesn’t want to get all excited only to be disappointed when Nicole tells her that this was only a game. “Are you just pretending right now…for the cameras?” She whispers.

“No,” Nicole says. “I’ll prove it to you when I take you to the top of the Ferris Wheel and kiss you during the fireworks. After all that, we’ll go home, and I’ll show you a good time there too,” she winks.

Waverly beams. She pushes up on her tippy toes and pulls Nicole in for a chaste kiss.

They meander further through the games until they come across a wall of empty Monster cans, which Nicole systematically ping down one by one with an airsoft gun. The disgruntled game attendant unhooks the giant stuffed unicorn from the overhang before returning to reset the wall.

“That’s one,” Nicole smirks.

Waverly squeezes the unicorn excitedly into her side.

The smug look on Nicole’s face doesn’t fade at the fishbowl game, where Nicole wins Waverly two goldfish, and somewhere on the way to the livestock stables, Nicole wins Waverly a blow-up giraffe too. The giraffe is handed off to Robin allowing Waverly to hold Nicole’s hand as they stroll past the piglets and the goats.

They stop at a row of calves, all investigating the children poking and prodding them through the gaps in their enclosures. Waverly empathizes with their lack of privacy and the constant demand to perform. At least the only one poking and prodding her is Rosita with a flat iron and a mascara wand.

“Waverly, I’m bringing this home. We’ve bonded and I can’t let go,” Nicole coos staring into the little brown calf’s eyes as its thick black tongue curls around her hand. 

Waverly leans against the gate next to her and scratches the calf on the top of the head. “It is cute”, Waverly admits. “Where are we going to put it? The locked room? It could be the baby cow room.” 

“What about the garage?” Nicole offers, as if either suggestion is a viable option.

“I still don't know where that is,” Waverly confesses.

Nicole pries her eyes away from the cow and gives Waverly a patronizing look. “How is that possible? It’s literally attached to the house.” 

Waverly stands her ground. That house is like Hogwarts. She finds new nooks and crannies all the time. “Well, where’s the door then?” 

Nicole rolls her eyes and returns to the cow. 

“Seriously, where’s the door?” 

“Waverly, come on. You’re just being silly now.” 

Waverly gathers up her hair and drapes it over one shoulder. While combing it out with her fingers she frowns dissatisfied. Her house is a mystery and so is her wife, with hidden garages and secret operations behind locked doors. She’s embarrassed to admit, it took her three weeks after moving in to notice the laundry room. She was still doing her laundry at the laundromat above her old apartment until Nicole took her by the hand and led her there. Maybe Waverly is ridiculously oblivious, or distracted, but in her defense, that door looked like a closet.

“He’s not going to fit into the Jeep. Let’s look at the chickens.”

“We can’t have a chicken,” Nicole whines. “Calamity Jane might eat it and she’s already getting so fat.”

Eliza insists they act as excited as any parent-to-be should and go observe the Tractor Track kid races. Nicole has other ideas. In her continued rebellion, Nicole flings Waverly over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marches them toward the beer garden before Robin pulls the contract card, and Waverly has to drag Nicole back. After a while of cooing and awing at the little kids peddling by on plastic tractors and with the sun fully faded into the horizon, Waverly grows restless and tired.

“I’m ready to sit. My feet are killing me, and these goldfish are starting to feel like a million pounds.”

Nicole shifts the unicorn under her arm and reaches for the goldfish, “want to trade?”

“No,” Waverly whines and leans half her weight against Nicole with her arms around Nicole’s waist. “Nap time.”

Nicole chuckles. With her free arm draped over Waverly’s shoulders she kisses the top of Waverly’s head, “Not yet.”

“It’s almost midnight, Nicole.” Eliza barks.

“Fireworks.” 

Nicole leads Waverly to the Ferris Wheel, where they’re stalled at the end of a long line of anxiously waiting fairgoers.

“Looks like everyone has the same idea,” Waverly sulks, already mourning the kiss she’ll never get at the top of the Ferris Wheel.

Nicole tugs Waverly under her arm and says, “Yeah, but we’re not everyone.” 

They bypass the long line and go straight to the front. The carnival operator nods to Nicole as if they’re good friends as they approach. A wave of groans ripples through the line when he opens the gate, allowing Nicole, Waverly, and their PGE entourage to enter the ride.

“How’d you do that?” Waverly asks.

With a smug look on her face, Nicole gracefully sweeps a lock of hair from Waverly’s face and tucks it behind her ear. “I convinced Eliza to get PGE to buy out the Ferris Wheel...for you.”

“So, it’s all to ourselves?” 

“Yup.” 

“This better be the most ooey-gooey shit I’ve ever seen ladies!” Eliza hollers from the cart behind them where she sits next to Derek and his camera.

Waverly ignores her, grinning like a love-drunk fool as they slowly ascend into the night. This is better than the Tilt-A-Whirl.

“See, I told you I would show you a good time.” 

“The best time.”

Waverly snuggles into Nicole’s side with her goldfish in her lap. The fireworks erupt in her chest and glitter takes over the sky just as they reach the very top of the Ferris Wheel, where it comes to a stop. It’s almost enough to ignore the camera in the cart just below them filming, what Waverly can only imagine, is their feet.

“Waverly?” Nicole says in a small almost shy voice.

Waverly angles her head enough see Nicole’s throat bobs as if whatever she wants to stay is caught in there and she struggles to either swallow it or get it out.  

Nicole leans away, staring off into the distance, she runs her fingers through her hair. The other hand fidgets with the vape pen in her pocket and she exhales. “I’m divorced.” she confesses as if it weren’t a well-known fact. 

A slight smile turns up the corner of Waverly’s lips, “I think all of America knows that...but if they didn’t, they will now.”

“I know I—” Nicole pauses, shakes her head, and sighs. “I can’t do this.” Her fidgeting hands disappear behind her back and she disconnects the mic attached to the waistband of her pants.

“What are you doing?” Waverly asks shifting away. Nicole snakes her hands around Waverly’s waist nearly losing the unicorn and disconnects Waverly’s too. 

“I’m not good at this, Waverly…but I want to be.” Nicole confesses before situating herself against the chair. “When I was a kid, I used to play a lot of Super Mario Brothers. I’d play for hours and I’d get really far only to die. Then it’s game over,” she shrugs. “I’d have to start all the way from the beginning. It made me not want to play anymore because it was so damn discouraging. That’s how it felt to get divorced, but a million times worse.” She pauses to gather her thoughts. Shaking her head again, “You asked me a question. It’s just—” 

An empty, almost nauseating sensation digs into the pit of Waverly’s stomach. Her mind stews in the number of things Nicole might say. I don’t love you. I do love you, but…I can’t love you. I still love Shae.  

She takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst, but sitting next to Nicole, scanning her as she struggles to find the right words, her hands in her hair again, it reminds Waverly. The way Nicole looks at her. It’s more than lust swimming around in Nicole’s eyes, there’s something deeper there. I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone before, still sits on her lips every night before bed. It’s not I love you , but it’s some kind of affirmation and it’s not any less wanted.

“Wait,” Waverly interrupts. It’s hard to swallow the fear of falling in love and not being loved in return. Waverly thought she needed to hear it first, someone confessing their love before she could even open herself up to it. It never occurred to her that Nicole might need someone to go first too. “You don’t have to say anything else.” 

“I feel like I should.” 

“I think you care about me.” Waverly whispers.

“I do. More than anything.” Nicole whispers back with a gentle smile.

All around them the fireworks light up the night sky like magic, and somehow, they’re most beautiful blossoming in the reflection of Nicole’s honey gold eyes. It always takes her by surprise, the things Nicole can do to her, with just a look. I t’s just a face, just a smile, an extra thump-thump in her chest. Still, Waverly gasps a little, because in this moment, everything feels perfect. If falling for Nicole means losing all the air in her lungs, then she never cared about breathing anyway. 

 “Then that’s all I need to know right now.” 

 “Okay.”

Nicole’s lips find Waverly’s, and for a moment she almost forgets about the goldfish. They nearly wobble from her lap. “I care about you more than anything too,” Waverly confesses, and even that aches in her chest, but it’s exciting. She presses another kiss to Nicole’s lips and the fireworks boom around them, and all of it takes her breath away.

“Those sons of bitches unhooked their mics, didn’t they?”  

***

“Jesus!” Waverly gasp, clutching at her racing heart and holding the Jeep door to steady herself. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Champ slinks around the corner, head hung like a guilty dog, looking skeezy as ever—his hands stuffed in his front pockets, shoulders pulled up to his earlobes, and… are those tears in his eyes ?

As always, guilt flares inside of her, making a nauseating pit out of her stomach. God forbid she hurts his feelings, and for a second she almost reaches out to him, to comfort him. Of course, she does. She’s conditioned that way.

“Waverly, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but my calls aren’t going through.” 

The feeling is short-lived. It dissipates almost as quickly as it appeared. She’s beyond this now. Vows were made. He is not her problem anymore. “I blocked your number. Sorry,” she says, blowing him off with a shrug, and makes a thwarted attempt to pass him. “Excuse me.”  

With his feet sturdy on the ground, and a body built like a linebacker, he walls off Waverly’s path between the Jeep and the Hyundai parallel to it. Waverly knows Champ isn’t dangerous, not physically anyway, and yet it doesn’t make her feel any less like a hostage.

“Wait,” he says closing the space between them with a gesture of his hands. He moves forward with heavy feet, and Waverly shuffles back. “We need to talk.”

She shakes her head. This guy doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s always been this way no matter what she says, he always has a grip on her. Even now she feels his fingers pressing into her. Not that she has the slightest urge to go back to him. It’s not that. It’s just that he’s physically in her way.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she asserts, surprised at the conviction in her tone, she stands a little taller.

“You can’t keep me away from my baby, Waverly.” 

Shitballs . Those words falling from his mouth are enough to turn her legs to jelly as a sharp chill scrapes down her spine. It was there in the back of her mind all along, she would have to talk to Champ about this, and she would have to lie to him just as she lied to everyone else.

Tears swell to the surface. She bites them back. She won’t cry in front of him. This isn’t what she wanted in the first place. She wanted to tell the truth and be done with it. Keep it together , she summons all her strength in the shake of her head. “I’m going to be late for work.” 

“I want to be there for you...and for our kid.”

A few months ago, she might have fallen for his manipulative bullshit, now she’s disgusted at the thought of ever having a baby with Champ, horrified that that scary thought is what got her into this mess. The test was negative. She reminds herself. There is no baby, only a lie. “This is not our anything. This is mine to deal with.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nicole will help me.” 

“You can’t be serious,” he laughs in disbelief. “She’s a thug, Waverly. I refuse to let you raise my baby around her.” 

“Excuse me?” Waverly says, and her hands ball up into fists. Who does this jackass think he is? “Nicole is twice the man that you are…” she continues, then trails off. “Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean!”  

Waverly makes a second attempt to brush past him and he stalls her with a hand on her shoulder. The contact burns Waverly’s skin like hot oil.

“That’s my baby, Waverly,” he warns, and the possessive look in his eyes suggests he’s not just claiming the baby, he’s putting his shackles on her too.  “I put it there, and you can’t keep me away from it.”

It’s a lot right now, fighting him, pleasing PGE, trying to be a normal fucking human being with a job and a happy relationship. This has been one of her biggest problems all long. Him . Top of the list of reasons to get the hell out of Purgatory. To get away from him.

“You know,” Waverly snaps, “You don’t own me, and as long as this baby is in my body, you can stay the fuck away from me.”  

“Come on Waverly, do the right thing here. Let me take care of you.”

“Get it through your head, Champ. I don’t need you…and I don’t want you.”

His lips draw back in a snarl, but he says nothing in response. His hand slips from her shoulder to hang limply at his side and she squeezes past him.

“Don’t follow me.”

***

“Red-Headed Slut,” Chrissy says and twirls Waverly under her arm in a routine they’ve perfected over the years. Waverly giggles and spirals back in against her.

“Sex on my face.”

Chrissy pauses and leans back. “Seriously?”

“It’s real I swear!” Waverly laughs, and throws her head back with one leg out, toe pointed in the air, “Dip me.”  

“Liquid Viagra,” Jeremy adds and sucks in hard on his straw, making a gurgling noise as he finishes his caramel Frappuccino.

“Dance with us Jer,” Waverly says.

 He slouches against the counter shaking his head. The frappe cup is tossed in the trash. “I’d really rather not.”

“Boo!”

“Okay, next drink…the Screaming O...” Chrissy trails off as she and Waverly lose their rhythm, stumbling back into the counter. They giggle as they regain their footing.

“This isn’t a night club,” Gus snaps.

The two women halt their dance, still holding each other in a somewhat elegant embrace, and Jeremy turns around fiddling with something on the counter to appear busy.

“We’re out of straws,” Gus says. Her eyes bounce between the three of them, giving them each a stern I’m the boss look.

 Waverly untangles herself from Chrissy and volunteers out of boredom. “I’ll get them!”

“Oh no, you won’t. There on the top shelf and there’s no way I’m letting you climb on a ladder in your condition.”

Waverly throws her head back and groans, “I’m pregnant, not useless, Aunt Gus.”

“Let Chrissy handle that.”

“ Or I could do it,” Jeremy offers.  

“Jeremy. Register. Now.” Gus orders and points to the register where the first lone customer wonders in after about an hour of zero traffic.

With nothing else to do Waverly glances at the table in the back where Nicole sits hunched over a spread of paperwork, likely sprinkling around bits of lemon scone, as she works diligently on payroll.

“Since you guys seem to have it covered, I’m going to take a ten.”

Gus doesn’t acknowledge her slipping away.

The familiar sound of Nicole’s Monster hisses as Waverly slides out the chair across from her and plops down. The Monster fizzes down the side and she licks it off her finger.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Waverly slaps her hands on the table with a groan, “I’m bored.”

Just to make sure Nicole understands the extent of her pain she groans again and drops her head to the table, cheek pressed into the cool wood, and her arms dangle at her sides as if she lost the will to hold them up.

Nicole releases the paper pinched between her fingers and it flutters down with the rest. She leans in close to whisper against Waverly’s ear, “Want to go make out in the bathroom?”

Normally that would be a hell-to-the-no. Waverly’s at work, but the boredom is strong today. She shrugs, “Kind of, now.”

 “That bad, huh?” Nicole laughs.

Waverly sits up with another hand slap to the table, this time tipping over the cup of sweeteners. “It’s a dead zone in here. I’ve organized and reorganized the self-service counter three times already…and no one’s even touched it but me.” She complains arranging the little packets back into the cup. “Everyone’s downtown listening to…you know who.”

The morning has been slow. The whole town is at City Hall listening to Bunny Loblaw’s plans to clean up crime and gang activity in Purgatory. Johnathan Clootie’s name was brought up in an interview earlier this week, for the Purgatory Chronicle, and the eradication of his business storefronts and therefore limiting his connections.

With that and their creepy baby shower gift, Nicole’s been on edge all morning. Don’t poke the bear, she keeps saying, and stressing over the ramifications of bringing Bulshar into the spotlight. It’s brought on a string of nightmares over the last few days leading up to it. Nicole mumbles the same thing over and over. It keeps Waverly up at night, listening, and wondering.

The Monster can bends under the pressure of Nicole’s fingers curling in, in response to she who shall not be named , before she takes it to her lips and chugs. There’s no further response. Nicole stuffs her face with scone and returns to her paperwork.

Back to entertaining herself, Waverly re-organizes the packets of sweeteners on the table, in order of the colors in a rainbow. There’s no point in going back to work yet. Chrissy and Jeremy are taking turns throwing coffee beans into each other’s mouths. That’s desperate, Waverly thinks. She thrums her fingers on the table looking as sweet and innocent as possible.

“Sugarbear?”

“Hm,” Nicole grunts.

Waverly walks her fingers across the table and over Nicole’s hand to her wrist and makes gentle circles with her thumb. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You’ve been talking a lot in your sleep…kind of like you’re having nightmares.”

“Weird,” Nicole says brushing it off and shaking Waverly from her wrist. “I did switch to Blow Pops. It’s probably that.”

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Hey,” Nicole exaggerates, and makes a sharp flick of her pen with every word. “I choked on the gum when I hit a speed bump.”

“That I can believe,” Waverly says and thrums her fingers on the table again. An image of Nicole chewing on a piece of Bubble Tape runs through her mind. The thought continues with Nicole smacking it between her teeth, and blowing cocky bubbles, as she zips down Main Street, hits a speed bump and eats the pavement. “Also, no more gum.”

“I’ll stop chewing gum when it stops being delicious,” Nicole snorts and returns to her papers.

That’s probably all the probing Waverly can get away with right now. She doesn’t want to poke this bear too hard and risk a stormy exit, but that damn boredom…

“It’s just that, you kept repeating this one thing—"

She’s interrupted and maybe it’s for the best. Eliza pops up at the end of the table, as she often does, wearing the kind of smile a gecko might wear. Robin’s to her left. She blinks. Waverly never realized how reptilian she looks.

“Ladies,” she announces.

Nicole lets her pen hit the table with a frustrated growl and grabs her Monster. She points to the can and says, “you’ll have to wait until I have this much…” she drags her finger three-quarters of the way down, “of my vitamins.”

Waverly nods and steals a piece of Nicole’s scone. For once she doesn’t dread Eliza’s visit or Nicole’s smart-ass remarks. Anything is entertainment at this point.   

“You better get to chugging then,” Eliza commands and takes a seat next to Waverly. Robin situates himself next to Nicole. He sets a black duffle bag at his feet.   

With her eyes on Eliza, Nicole chugs the whole thing, hissing loudly when it’s done. She then crushes the can in her fist while Waverly shovels more scone into her mouth as if she were in a theater munching on popcorn.  

“Alright. Down to business.” Eliza says, and lifts her elbows to the table. “PGE has a request.”

“What?” Waverly says a little too eager. Then she remembers she’s pregnant , so whatever it is is probably not fun, and she sags in her chair.

The duffle rustles as Robin digs something out of it and lays it on the table. Both Nicole and Waverly share a look of disgust. It’s a plastic, but a very real looking baby doll. The thing is weird and smells like rubber and baby powder.  

“For the next few days, PGE wants you to care for this baby like it’s your flesh and blood,” Eliza instructs.

“You want us to do what?” Nicole growls.

“PGE decided it would be uh...educational for all our contestants to spend a week as parents,” Robin says. He adjusts the small diaper, which is the only clothing the baby is wearing.

“That’s just gross,” Nicole spits. “I never liked dolls.”

“A little weird too,” Waverly adds. “All the couples on the show have to do this?”

“Yup,” Eliza confirms.

“But why?” Waverly asks. For real why? She doesn’t need this on top of a fake pregnancy. Her family’s really going to think she’s nuts. Plus, it has creepy eyelashes that move when Robin jostles it.

“Waverly, you’re going to be a new mother. I’m sure you’re excited…maybe a little bit scared,” Eliza muses. “Think of this as practice. For the real thing. Show America how good of a mother…” she pauses to glance at Nicole, and with a brief hesitation she continues, “ mothers you’re going to be.”  

A pamphlet is slapped on the center of the table titled: How to Care for Your Ready-Or-Not Tot. Robin unfolds it on the table for them to see: Standard Ready-or-Not Tot® Parenting is forever, and it can happen whether you’re ready or not!

“Now, your day to day activity with the baby will be filmed, you’ll be prepared and geared for the full day.”

“Even in the house?” Nicole whines.

Waverly absentmindedly rubs Nicole’s shoulder while she reads the contents of the instructions. Parenting is work! It requires a great deal of time and energy. The demands of caring for a baby keep a parent on duty twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Shit. That sounds terrible. Waverly thinks and flips the page. Your Ready-or-Not Tot® offers a variety of features to simulate the many aspects of caring for an infant.

“During business hours,” Eliza says with air quotes.

And Nicole replies with air quotes. “What are business hours?”

“Derek and Dave will call it a night at or before 7:00 pm,” she gauges.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. That’s well into my Nicole time.”

“Nicole time can wait,” Eliza snaps. “ All time is PGE time.”

Robin presents Waverly with something else. “Here are your bracelets. They have a receiver for the baby. This pamphlet will tell you how to meet your baby’s needs and how to use the bracelets.” He lifts out a small diaper bag from the larger duffle bag and sets it on the table next to the pamphlet. “And here are all the things you will need.”  

Waverly inspects the items Robin handed her first. There is one pink bracelet labeled mommy, and one blue bracelet labeled daddy.

“We ran out of mommies,” Eliza shrugs, “So one of you gets the daddy bracelet. The baby won’t know the difference.”

Waverly shrugs and hands Nicole the daddy one, before digging into the diaper bag to investigate further.

“Why do I have to be the dad?” Nicole whines. 

“There’s no dad,” Waverly says, as she retrieves a bottle from the bag. When she shakes it, it sloshes with something resembling milk. She brings it closer and squints to examine it. “No one is the dad.” 

“Go ahead and fasten your bracelets,” Robin instructs. “Once they are secure you will not be able to remove them until I myself deactivate them. If you tamper with them in any way it will send a signal to our receiver.”

Waverly sets aside the bottle and re-examines the bracelet before snapping it in place. It’s not so bad. The pink is a bit garish, but she can live with it for a few days.

“What are you going to do about it if we do?” Nicole challenges as Waverly moves on to fasten the blue bracelet to Nicole’s wrist. Nicole holds out her wrist unenthusiastically.

 “You don’t want to know,” Eliza warns.

Nicole scowls. She takes her wrist back and twists it to see “daddy” printed across the plastic. “This just will not do,” she says, plucking at it.

“Come on daddy, it’s only for a week,” Robin encourages. He digs the final item out of the duffle bag. A manila envelope. Waverly cringes. She knows what that means. The contents slip out in a neatly sorted packet that Robin proceeds to separate into two and slides one to Waverly and one to Nicole. “Now, just for the sake of legality, we do need to inform you of all your rights and obligations, and when you understand them please sign the last page.”  

Nicole signs hers immediately without a glance and dismisses it to Robin. “I know how your games work,” she grumbles. If Nicole agrees to play, Waverly will too. She signs without more than scanning the first page and slides hers to Robin.

“Great,” Robin chuckles. The waivers are filed back into the manila envelope and tucked away in the duffle bag.

“We will leave you to it.” Eliza says already rising from her seat. “Dave and Derek will arrive bright and early. Be ready with that baby.”

Robin taps his finger twice on the open pamphlet and looks between them. “I recommend you get familiar with the pamphlet. You’ll need it.” He winks, then follows Eliza out the door.

The control box has a position sensor that monitors how the baby is handled. If the baby is held or placed incorrectly, it will cry until corrected.

Waverly picks up the baby, supporting its head before it flops back. It’s heavier than she imagined. “This says it has a sensor in its head. We have to support it like a real baby.”

“Great,” Nicole grunts.

“At specific times, the baby will cry to indicate that it needs to be fed.” Waverly reads and flips to the next page. “Ten seconds before the end of the feeding period, the baby will coo and then needs to be burped.”

Nicole packs up her stuff in her messenger bag before Waverly can even finish, and it’s slung over her shoulder. Kicking her chair in, she holds up two fingers, “peace.” Then leaves for the door.

“Okay, I’ll just take first shift then,” Waverly calls after her, getting no response.

If for some reason the student cannot figure out how to quiet the baby and panics, there is a Panic key that can be inserted to quiet the baby and terminate the present programmed event (Figure 4).

***

“What is that?” Waverly mumbles as her eyes slowly open and she recognizes the wailing coming from the other side of the room. “Nicole!”  

Panicked and disoriented, she slaps at the end table for the lamp until she’s squinting at its brightness. “Nicole,” she repeats, and smacks Nicole on the ass to wake her.

Nicole shoots up into a sitting position, eyes still closed, and a mess of red hair tangled around her face, “I’m up.”  

It is difficult to get a full night’s sleep when there is a newborn present. “The baby.”

The covers fly from Waverly’s legs and she slides out of the bed, legs wobbling as she makes her way toward the noise.

Nicole stumbles behind her. “Make it stop!”

It can be frustrating trying to determine what type of care the baby needs. “I don’t know how,” Waverly panics. She picks up the baby and attempts to soothe it, rocking it in her arms. “It’s not working.” 

“Where’s the bottle?” 

“It’s in that bag I think.” 

Nicole rummages through the bag on the dresser and digs out the bottle. She thrusts it to Waverly. The baby continues to cry even with the bottle held to its mouth.

“That’s a terrible noise,” Nicole shouts with her hands cupping her ears. “It’s getting angrier.” 

 “Maybe the diaper?” Waverly suggests. At specific times, the baby will cry to indicate a Diaper Change is needed.

Nicole nods, diving into the diaper bag again throwing things to the floor in the process. She runs to the bed and fumbles to lay the diaper out, cringing when Waverly hands her the baby. It stops crying in Nicole’s arms.

“Huh,” Waverly says. 

“Well, all better.” Nicole holds out the baby to Waverly expectantly. 

“Careful with its head!” Waverly warns. As soon as the baby leaves Nicole’s hands and is cradled in Waverly’s arms, it cries louder than before. Waverly squeals. “What did I do?”

“Ugh, maybe it does need a diaper change. Give it here.” The baby stops again once it’s back in Nicole’s arms. She glares at it as if it were purposely playing tricks.

“I guess it just wanted you,” Waverly shrugs. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, daddy.” Waverly laughs.

Nicole continues to stare at the baby in horror. “Why?” she repeats.  

“Good luck then.” Waverly chirps. She tosses the diaper aside and climbs back into bed. 

“What are you doing?” Nicole asks with a hint of panic rising in her voice.

“Looks like you got it covered. I’m going back to sleep.” 

“Yeah right.” Nicole snorts. She carries the baby back to its crib and carefully lays it down only for it to start crying again. “Oh, come on! You’re not real.” 

Waverly snickers. “Maybe you could take it for a walk?” 

Day or night, a baby’s needs come before all else. Feeding, diapering, holding, and loving are all vital elements of having a baby.

 “A walk?”

“Yeah, walk around the living room until it gets sleepy.” 

“It’s not alive,” Nicole gestures with her hands in frustration.

“Tell that to the baby.” 

“Unbelievable.” Nicole groans and gathers the baby in her arms. “Who chooses this?” and she stomps out of the room. 

Waverly’s asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

***

“Mother fucker,” Waverly growls and Derek chases her out the door.

Nicole’s bike skids to a stop outside of Eden’s. Dave can be seen in the distance down the street, sweat dripping down his forehead, struggling to keep his balance with the camera fastened on the handlebars.

Nicole kicks her leg over her bike, then unclips her helmet. “Hey, sweetheart,” she smiles and leads the bike to the side of the building where she props it up. It’s impossible not to notice the milk crate fastened to the back of the bike with bungee cords forming some kind of a MacGyvered baby seat. The baby is strapped in with another bungee cord. At least Nicole had the brains to secure a piece of wood and a pillow to the back supporting its head. 

 “Don’t sweetheart me. What the hell is this?” Waverly demands pointing at the heinous contraption. 

Nicole’s smile dissipates and it’s obvious she’s holding back an eye roll. “I had to make some deliveries and little Zeppelin came along.” Parents aren’t free to go wherever they want, whenever they want, unless they can take the baby with them. Nicole unfastens the baby, and proceeds to hold it like any real infant.

 “Zeppelin?” 

“Yeah, I named her Zeppelin,” Nicole says matter-of-factly and she straightens out what Waverly recognizes as a Led Zeppelin 1975 U.S. Tour onesie. “Oh! And look.” She fishes out a tiny bag from the milk crate and hands it to Waverly. 

Derek pans from the milkcrate to Nicole and the baby held against her chest, while Dave struggles to unhook the camera from his handlebars and wobble the bike to the side of the building.

He finally wheezes over and positions himself next to Waverly. His camera angles down to the flashy black and pink bag in her hands. Inside Waverly digs out the smallest shoebox she has ever seen. She flips the lid, wrapped in white tissue paper, lifting out a tiny black Timberland boot that fits perfectly in the palm of her hand. She didn’t know they made them so small. Babies are cute and fun to play with.

“Aren’t those the cutest?” Nicole coos.

Waverly can’t deny the cuteness of the tiny Tim’s, but the insanity of her wife and that milkcrate... She drops the little boot into the box and slaps the lid shut. “No! None of this is cute. You can’t name a baby Zeppelin , Nicole.” Waverly tosses the bag back into the milkcrate and folds her arms across her chest in her best, that’s final stance. “Besides, I already decided, his name is Edward.” 

Nicole’s face twists up like she just ate a mouthful of Sour Patch Kids; both Dave and Derek pivot to catch it. “When did you decide that?” 

“This morning.” 

“Ha! Snooze yah lose mommy, I named her Zeppelin when I was up with her all night.” 

“Zeppelin is not a suitable name for a baby. It’s aggressive. Better suited for a pitbull...or a rattlesnake,” Waverly offers.

Nicole adjusts the baby, resting its head against her shoulder just as that familiar wailing starts up again. Waverly retracts, recalling how well it responded to her last night.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Nicole says. “You’ve got her all riled up again, with your yelling.” 

“Me! He probably has whiplash after riding on the back of that,” Waverly jabs her finger at the bike and its sad excuse for a car seat. “ Death contraption .”

Squinting her eyes at Waverly in contempt as she soothes the baby, bouncing her knees lightly, Nicole says, “Now who’s aggressive. Don’t talk about the bike like that.” She shakes her head dismissing Waverly. Dave follows behind her dutifully as she carries the baby into Eden’s. “Shh. It’s okay. Daddy’s got you.” 

“Nicole! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” 

Chrissy has Nicole’s scone already bagged and ready on the counter. She gives Waverly a puzzled glance over Nicole’s shoulder while Nicole retrieves her Monster and scone and leaves a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

Waverly shakes her head and mouths, “don’t ask.” Then continues to chase Nicole all the way to the back table where Nicole lifts her messenger bag over her shoulders, careful not to disturb “Zeppelin”.

“I can’t believe you put that poor thing on the back of the bike like that,” Waverly chides as she plops into the chair across from Nicole. She immediately pinches off the corner of Nicole’s scone. The baby interrupted her sleep five times last night and only responded to Nicole. Needless to say, all that crying and lack of sleep has taken its toll on her, leaving her cranky and exhausted.

“You’ve made him look just like you.” Waverly points out.

“I know. She’s perfect in every way.” 

Nicole flips the tab to her Monster and takes a long hard swallow. It’s not her first caffeinated beverage of her day either. Two empty cans were already abandoned on the counter before Waverly rushed out the front door. If Waverly had the energy, she would scold Nicole on the dangers of that much caffeine. But she doesn’t, so she won’t.

“He is not even real,” Waverly shrugs.

“That’s definitely one of her better qualities.” 

This is one of the moments Waverly can’t tell if Nicole is pretending. She can’t imagine Nicole actually liking this baby, considering how she reacted just to wearing the Daddy bracelet, or the face she made when Waverly first handed the baby over to her. Then again, Nicole is an enigma and Waverly never really knows what’s going on underneath all that red hair.

“You’re crazy.” 

“Mmhmm.” Nicole smiles cuddling the baby close like it’s a giant bag of Skittles.

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” Waverly says having decided it’s too weird to see Nicole doing, whatever this is , and she pushes out of her chair. “I gotta go. I can’t be seen with you. You’re creeping me out.” 

She strides away, back to make shitty coffee.

***

“Act normal? We don’t normally have a fake baby lying around.” Nicole says, discarding the flannel Rosita has just finished fitting to her shoulders. She leaves it to fall carelessly to the floor.

Rosita throws her hands up, “I can’t work like this,” she says.

“This is just a simulation exercise,” Robin reassures. “Everyone on The Newlyweds is participating. You don’t have to do anything special. If the baby cries, you take care of it. Simple as that.”

“ And if it doesn’t?” Waverly asks currently cradling the baby in her arms. For once it’s not crying. Thank god. She was starting to develop a complex.

She scans over its little face and the outfit Nicole picked out. The smiley face with the x’d out eyes and the tiniest black skinny jeans Waverly has ever seen. Nicole seems oddly into this. Waverly was startled to find the faintest bit of sexiness thinking of Nicole as a mother, and a shit ton of terrifying. To think, this baby wasn’t even wearing a bike helmet, not to mention Nicole’s smoking habits, and her pure sugar diet. Thank god this pregnancy is fake because Waverly could never raise a baby with Nicole.

“It will cry,” Robin confirms confidently.

Nicole slips her vape pen from the front pocket of her own skinny jeans and clears her throat. “I’m going outside for a minute.” She holds up the pen, wiggling it, “for the baby.”

“Wait,” Waverly says in a strangled voice. She quickly builds a cradle out of fluffy blue pillows and the prized stuff unicorn on the couch, then nestles the baby into it. “Mommy will be right back.”

She hates herself for saying it, but it’s for show. She hurries out the door with Nicole.

The surrounding clouds of vanilla have become a familiar phenomenon. For the most part, Nicole has left the habit out of the house. Though the crushed pack of Marlboro cigarettes remains on the porch, Nicole has stuck to only vaping, and sometimes the other stuff she keeps under the coffee table that makes Waverly wrinkle her nose.

“Don’t do that.” Waverly snaps. She karate chops the vapor away from her face, reminiscent of their wedding day. “Don’t blow that out your nose. You’re not a dragon.”

“What? Like this?” Nicole taunts and proceeds to do it again filling the air between them with rolling clouds of vanilla. 

“You think you are, but you’re not funny.”

“Look, sweetheart, everyone has their vices. Mine is smoking,” she shrugs, “and yours is being a nag.”

“Hey!” Waverly exclaims and swats Nicole in the arm. Nicole chuckles.

“You’re still cute all the same,” she winks and swoops Waverly into an embrace.

It could be leftovers of the pen, but Nicole smells extra vanilla-y today. Waverly buries her face in Nicole’s t-shirt, and for just a second she focuses on nothing else, just Nicole’s arms around her and the sweetness she exudes.  

The nervous laughter coming from the other side of the door, and Eliza’s overbearing commands, draws her back to reality prematurely. “We have to go in there and pretend to be parents,” she groans.  

“Listen,” Nicole says. She rests her hands on Waverly’s shoulders and ducks her head to make eye contact, “I love…your enthusiasm sweetheart, but I’m not really into all that role-playing shit.”

Waverly’s face goes blank, “Seriously? You signed up to be on a reality tv show where you’re fake married...the same show,” she points to the door. “that wants us to go in there and act like we love that baby.”

 “Alright, let’s go.” Nicole concedes. “We left little Zeppelin all alone with Robin anyway.”  

“I think he likes Robin.”

“That’s just her camera face. I taught her that.”

Waverly pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head in disbelief over the conversation they are having. Is she really discussing the preferences and needs of a doll right now? What’s even scarier, is that Nicole is. “We’ve lost our fucking minds.”

“Yup.”

***

“You’re staring,” Nicole says.

Hardly oblivious to the eagerness radiating from the other end of the couch, she flips a page in her book and pretends to read it. Nicole’s known for hours what Waverly wants, from the moment Waverly trudged down the stairs clean from the shower. But games are her forte’, and she plays them well, cracking open a book, stretching out on the couch expecting Waverly to do the same.

“I’m doing more than that.” Waverly teases and nudges Nicole’s side with her foot.

A smirk develops over Nicole’s face, a satisfying victory. Her eyes stay fixed on her book, but they no longer scan the pages.

Waverly nudges her again. “Hey…Sugarbear?” she husks.

Nicole stifles a laugh, her long lashes sweep her cheeks, and this time she glances over her book. It makes the room spin when those honey gold eyes steal the breath from Waverly’s lungs. Nicole gingerly closes her book and sets it aside, giving Waverly her full attention. “Who? Me?” she says in a soft and innocent voice.

Waverly nods. The thought of Nicole touching her, making her squirm and sweat, making her come, surpasses any desire to read a book. It fell to her lap over ten minutes ago. As soon as Nicole cracked open Fanny Hill, it was over, Waverly was enthralled with Nicole’s lips pressed together in concentration, and the crease in her forehead as she read those words. Waverly knows those words, she’s read them before, and thinking about Nicole reading them, the images she builds in her head…

“Come here,” Waverly motions with her index finger.

Nicole stares at Waverly in all seriousness, and shakes her head slowly, “No.”

Confused, Waverly frowns. She wants this game to come to fruition, whether Nicole wins, or Waverly wins, it doesn’t matter as long as they end up naked together.   

“I want you to come here,” Nicole says and leans back against the armrest opening up her lap as an invitation.

Waverly shivers excitedly. “ Oh .”

Waverly goes, but she moves slow, makes a show of it crawling from one end of the couch to the other. The unicorn stuffed animal wobbles to the floor and she settles into Nicole’s lap, straddling her thighs, and drapes her arms over Nicole’s shoulders.

“I’m here. Now what?”

Nicole smiles, running her hands up Waverly’s thighs, squeezing her fingers into the firm flesh of her ass. One hand moves to the small of Waverly’s back. She leans in to press a kiss against Waverly’s shoulder and up the side of Waverly’s neck, stopping at the sharp edge of her jaw.

Waverly sighs into Nicole’s touch, and her arms tighten around Nicole’s shoulders, fingers getting tangled in her hair. She can feel Nicole’s teeth scrape across her skin and she knows Nicole’s going to leave marks. They’re tacky, but she’ll allow it just this once.

Nicole continues down Waverly’s chest. A hand slips under Waverly’s tank top and over her breast. Nicole squeezes and Waverly squirms impatiently.  

“Do something,” Waverly begs. “Don’t just tease me.”

“I want to take you upstairs.” Nicole husks.

 “Take me there then.”

Without another word, Nicole positions them on the edge of the couch, pushes up and glides across the room with Waverly delicately balanced on her hips. Waverly’s lips graze Nicole’s throat, she loses herself in the sultry heat between them.

“Hurry,” Waverly whispers. “I can’t wait.” 

Nicole moves faster, taking the steps two at a time in a haste to get to the bedroom. Waverly continues her path of kisses over every inch of Nicole’s exposed skin. Nicole can hardly suppress a gasp when Waverly scrapes her teeth along the cartilage of her ear, damn near buckling her knees and causing Waverly to slip from Nicole’s hips. She lands on the bed with a bounce.

“Hmmf.”

“I’ll turn on some music,” Nicole says, a little out of breath.

Waverly yanks on Nicole’s t-shirt and their lips come crashing together, as she’s reminded of the hot slippery mess she was two weeks ago in the shower, while Rock You Like a Hurricane drowned out her vulgar affirmations . “I hate your music,” she breathes out.

Nicole ignores her and swipes her phone from the nightstand. Ah-ah, ah! Ah-ah, ah! screeches from its tiny speakers as she tosses it back. It’s cringy, to say the least, but Waverly doesn’t get a moment to linger on it.

“I hate that you're still wearing so many clothes,” Nicole says and kisses her. Her hands slide up Waverly’s sides, curling her fingers under Waverly’s t-shirt and tugging it over her head.

Waverly presses her hands into Nicole’s chest as Nicole leans in to kiss her again. “It’s just that, your music doesn’t feel very... sexy .”

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” Nicole husks. “I’m going to make this real sexy for you.”

Nicole tears away and disappears into the closet, boxer briefs flying out after. A naughty thrill rolls through Waverly as she knows what Nicole’s getting. “You know, it’s sexier if you strip where I can see you?” Waverly teases.

A chuckle carries out of the closet. Waverly can hear the rummaging around before she comes swaggering out. She pauses to tug the straps tighter around her hips. She likes the reveal to be dramatic.

“Is this okay?”

A heavy breath escapes Waverly that vibrates her lips and flutters her hair around her face. It may be a little more than she originally bargained for tonight, but she nods her head. “Only if you strip off your shirt.”

 “No, slowly…” Waverly interrupts when Nicole moves her hands for the shirt. “and shake your hair like a shampoo commercial.”

Nicole grips her t-shirt at the lower hem and slowly drags it up her body, over her shoulders, and then her head. She swings it a little before she tosses it to the floor and shakes her hair as dramatically as she can. Waverly giggles.

“How was that? Was that sexy enough for you?”

“Yes.” Waverly nods. “Now come here.”

Tall, armed, and naked Nicole approaches the bed, and Waverly takes in a sharp breath getting a full view of her wife’s lissome frame up close. There’s an amber glow in her eyes that soon turns to fire when she grips Waverly’s hips and lifts them to the middle of the mattress. Their lips find each other as Nicole situates herself over Waverly, and deepens the kiss, confidently darting her tongue into Waverly’s mouth.

“Wait—wait. The baby,” Waverly stammers.

Nicole glances over her shoulder in the direction of Waverly’s stare where the doll sits in her bouncy chair in the corner. “Zeppelin is fine. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s weird though, isn’t it?”

For whatever reason, those little doll eyes and its fake lashes really creep Waverly out, and maybe it’s just the thought of Bushar’s onesie, but sometimes she gets the feeling she’s being watched even in the house.

“I’m sure people do it all the time,” Nicole shrugs. “Besides, she’s a fake baby and no one will ever know.”

A knee nudges Waverly’s thighs apart and her fingers work down Waverly’s cotton shorts. They fall to the floor with a soft pat. Waverly barely notices Nicole’s hand reaching down between their bodies through the crackling coming from Nicole’s cellphone speakers. The rough, unrefined guitar, and screeching vocals overwhelm the room, and Waverly hates it.

Come on feel the noise. Girls rock your boys.

She reaches for the nightstand to change it. Nicole gently stops her, moving her hand away and pinning it to the mattress. “No, leave it.”

“But, it’s so…enthusiastic.”

Nicole chuckles, “It’s exciting.” She leans back on her heels and digs out the Sexy Strawberry lube from the drawer, squeezes out a generous amount over her fingers, and rubs it around. It’s getting low. They’ve been using it a lot lately. “Exciting times, call for exciting music.”

The lube is cold at first as Nicole spreads it over Waverly’s center in lazy circles. By now, Nicole knows exactly what Waverly likes. She’s mastered every kiss, every salacious touch, and every swirl of her fingers. Nicole knows how to make Waverly come within seconds, and she knows how to make Waverly beg for it. The rushed beat of Nicole’s music gives the impression she’s not aiming for the latter.

Beginning to feel impatient already, Waverly’s not complaining about the music anymore. Instead, she finds herself grinding against Nicole’s hand and its new speedy rhythm. Nicole dips her head down to capture Waverly’s lips in a kiss and two of her fingers, her fucking amazing fingers, the fingers that Waverly fantasizes about in the shower on a regular basis, ease into her.

A heat flares out from Waverly’s stomach, bleeding red across her chest, and rushing into her cheeks. “But,” she sighs, and her fingers wrap around one of Nicole’s wrists. She almost tells Nicole no ; that the only thing she wants tonight, is her. She wants Nicole to make her come, to take her apart with only her fingers like she so skillfully can. “It’s always exciting with you though.”

“Promise?” Nicole breathes and scrapes her teeth down Waverly’s throat just before sucking hard on the sensitive skin there. Gus won’t be happy about these marks tomorrow, but Waverly extends her neck for more anyway, and Nicole gives it to her, marking her again just below it, and again in the dip of her collarbone. “Promise?” Nicole repeats.

Waverly’s attempt to answer is initially silenced by Nicole’s fingers working in a little deeper. She moans, “ Oh . God yes, Nicole,” suddenly forgetting what she’s promising in the first place.

The air starts to feel too thin. Every time Nicole hits that spot inside of her, Waverly’s breath shortens, and it’s heavy and it’s loud. Her whole body wants to wrap around Nicole and beg Nicole to take her there, but just before she reaches that point of maddening desperation, Nicole tries to change directions.

“Wait,” Waverly says tightening a grip on Nicole’s wrist before she can pull away. “Not yet.”

Waverly pops up on one elbow, her other hand slides from Nicole’s wrist, into a thick knot of wavy red hair, and draws Nicole into a kiss while those amazing fingers still work between them. “Just like that,” Waverly breathes into Nicole. There’s a smile pulling at the corner of Nicole’s lips, Waverly can feel it against her own. Nicole knows what she’s doing, how every stroke of her fingers brings Waverly closer, making her breath quiver, and by the way Waverly throbs around her.

An unpredicted hard thrust sends Waverly over the edge. “Fuck! Nicole,” she moans, and takes in a sharp breath, tightening around Nicole, and marking her with her nails. Then she lets go as every muscle in her body contracts and shakes. It’s shattering and beautiful all at once.

Waverly’s left boneless on the mattress while Nicole pampers her with kisses, but only for a moment. Nicole withdraws her fingers to squeeze out more lube and coat the toy with it, then she drops down to one elbow, bridging over Waverly, and presses a kiss to her lips. “Tell me,” Nicole husks while her other hand grips the toy between them. “Tell me again how exciting you think I am,” and she slides it in easily.  

Waverly can’t bring herself to speak, but she can make noises, and that’s enough for Nicole. Waverly knows Nicole gets off on the sounds that she makes, whispering into her ear how sexy and beautiful she is every time Nicole’s name rolls off her tongue. Nicole moans this time and it satisfies a need in Waverly, just as Nicole thrusting inside of her satisfies another. She hooks her legs around Nicole’s waist, and her arms over her shoulders, as Nicole drags her mouth down Waverly’s neck and sinks her teeth in.

“Faster,” Waverly begs, impatience getting the better of her, and she rakes her nails down Nicole’s back again to make sure she’s listening. “Please.”

Nicole’s hips slam into her harder and faster, offbeat to the music, she creates her own rhythm for Waverly. “I love seeing you this way,” she pants, and she slams her hips again. “I love making you feel this way.” and it’s just right and just enough, to send Waverly into a sudden rush of release, sweeping her away to wild, wild, wild . Her fingers dig deep into Nicole’s shoulders, as her whole body tightens, and she screams out.

Come on feel the noise.

***

Waverly stares in horror. It’s so grotesques her brain doesn’t know how to interpret what she is seeing. 

“That’s porn.” Nicole declares.

That’s exactly what it is. It’s all right there on Eliza’s laptop screen—Nicole all strapped up and sweaty, Waverly’s legs wrapped around her waist, and her hands clawing into Nicole’s shoulders. It’s like something off the Animal Planet.

“That’s us!” Waverly squeals. It’s one of those things that are so terrible it’s hard to look away. But as hard as it is, Waverly drags her eyes away from the screen, glancing between Eliza and Kate, sitting there expressionless. It’s infuriating. “How did this happen?” 

“Didn’t you guys read the agreement before signing it?” Eliza says in a condescending way, “Of course not.” She rolls her eyes.

Kate whips out a copy of the agreement and slides it across the table as evidence. She picks up her pen and points halfway down the page, tapping it when she arrives on the correct line.

“You agreed to allow, Paradise Garden Entertainment, to film you in and around your home while the Ready-Or-Not Tot is within your possession. All collected footage will be edited in a tasteful manner and used only for episodes of The Newlyweds.” 

“We didn’t agree to make a porno!” Waverly exclaims and begins to pace the dining room. Dear god what did she agree to? Aunt Gus is always telling her to read the fine print. You never know when you’re going to get screwed in the ass.

Kate continues, “You also agree to be conscientious of your behavior and any and all activities in the home as not to incriminate yourself, Paradise Garden Entertainment, or any of its associates.” 

“Meaning don’t fuck around in front of the baby if you don’t want anyone to see it,” Eliza says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which maybe it is if either of them had paid any attention.

Kate nods in agreement. “Yeah, that's kind of weird.” 

Waverly comes to an abrupt stop and glares over her shoulder at Nicole, whose eyes are glued to the screen. She knew it was weird and she let that sex-crazed redhead talk her into it. “Nicole stop watching!” she snaps.

“I want to, but I can’t look away.” And she doesn’t. If anything, she leans closer.

Waverly cellphone goes off vibrating twice in her pocket. She digs it out. Chrissy texted her.

CHRISSY: Hey girl…what’s going on?

WAVERLY: What do you mean?

CHRISSY: You’re all over Twitter and there was a preview on MTV…of THINGS.

WAVERLY: The BABY spied on us and now we’re probably going to end up on free porn sites!

CHRISSY: Huh?

“This is ridiculous,” Waverly says abandoning the cellphone on the table. “Chrissy says this video is everywhere. Who did this? Surely you guys have a safe place to store your footage.” 

“That’s a lot of my ass.” Nicole remarks.

“We’re not sure, to be honest. We have a team of experts looking into the leak. In the meantime, our tech department is working diligently to locate the main source of the video and remove any duplicates as we find them.” Kate reassures.

Waverly frowns. That’s not good enough. She can’t have a leaked sex tape. She’s not some stacked supermodel celebrity.

“That is a lot of my ass,” Nicole repeats. She drags her eyes away from the screen for a split second to express to Waverly, “You look amazing Waverly…from what I can see of you.” 

Waverly watches the video again, no less horrified as the first several. “I ck , is that what I actually sound like?” 

“Yup,” Nicole smirks ogling the screen again. 

“Just get this off as soon as possible!” Waverly growls with her finger jabbing at Eliza and Kate. “And you stop watching...you freakin’ weirdo.” She swats at Nicole before continuing to pace the dining room. “Ugh, I feel gross. I feel like Kanye and Kim Kardashian.” 

“Hardly.” Nicole snorts. 

Waverly stalls in the doorway, supporting her weight on its frame. She sags a little and sighs. “My high school dance instructor always thought I’d be a star…somehow I don’t think this is what she meant.”  

Chapter Text

Waverly squeals, jumping up and down in a panic, while the feeling of a million spiders crawls down her back. It squeaks again. This time she screams and practically rips the broom from its place wedged between the fridge and the wall. She hurdles up onto the counter, where she braces herself with the broom held out like a weapon.

She waits, and listens. Nothing. Still, Waverly stays frozen, afraid that as soon as she moves, as soon as she even considers setting a toe on the ground, something is going to fly out of that cubby under the counter and take her leg off.

But she can’t stay like this all day, can she? Of course not. She scans the room searching for a quick solution and only comes up with one. One hand releases the broom, while the other hand maintains a firm grip on the handle, and she slips her phone from her back pocket. “Siri, call Nicole.”

“Calling Nicole, red heart, kissy face, red heart, on speaker.”

The phone rings three times. It feels like three hundred. “Come on pick up. Pick—”

“Hello?”

“Nicole, I’m trapped,” she whispers. “Come get me?”

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen. It’s in here.”

“Someone’s in there? Waverly, who?”

“I—”

“I’ll be right there,” Nicole interrupts.

Less than two minutes later, Nicole bursts into the kitchen red-faced and out of breath. “I’ve got a gun!” she announces.

“Nicole!” Waverly snaps, scowling as Nicole waves it around wild and recklessly. Gangster, Waverly thinks. But is she really that surprised?

Nicole gives Waverly a once over, and upon recognizing there isn’t any real danger, she relaxes. “What the fuck are you doing?” she says, then tugs the broom from Waverly’s grip and leans it against the wall. “Why are you standing on the counter like a maniac?”

“Where did you get a gun?”

Nicole ignores her. “I thought you were in trouble. I ran all the way up here,” she growls, pointing to the window.

“Don’t be dramatic. You were just in the backyard,” Waverly argues. She doesn’t miss the way the gun is still gripped in Nicole’s other hand. Guns don’t scare her. Daddy had lots of guns when she was growing up, and Waverly even shot them. Rifles, shotguns, and that Colt Buntline special he called Peacemaker—Daddy used his guns for hunting. Somehow Waverly doesn’t think Nicole’s guns are for hunting. The one in her hand looks dark and menacing, and Waverly can hardly take her eyes off it. “Where did you get a flippin’ gun on your way up the stairs?”

“I’m asking the questions here!”

It happens again. The rustling. Waverly paws the air for the broom but only manages to swipe down a few magnets off the fridge. They slap to the ground.

“There! It’s in there Nicole!” Waverly squeaks.

“Unbelievable, Waverly,”  Nicole says with obvious agitation. She tucks the gun into the back of her undone overalls and squats to investigate.

“Don’t do that!” Waverly demands. “You’re going to shoot yourself in the ass!”

Nicole rolls her eyes. The gun is removed from the back of her overalls and she begrudgingly sets it on the counter. “It’s not even loaded.”

“You said that last time.”

 “Shh…” Nicole says and waves her away.

They both listen as another little squeak comes from the cubby. With a bit of caution Nicole reaches her arm in and feels around. Her eyes light up and she gasps.

“What?” Waverly says. Feeling a little braver with Nicole here, she slides from the counter and takes careful steps to where Nicole crouches. “What is it?”

Nicole draws her arm back with it scruffed by its tiny neck. It mews. “It’s a kitten.”

“Really?” Waverly says, relieved, and drops to her knees to see the small orange fluffball Nicole cradles in her palms. Its eyes aren’t fully open, but it still holds its wobbly head up to look Nicole over. “I guess Beyoncé really did knock Calamity up.”

“Not funny.”

Waverly can’t help it. The kitten is cute. “It’s so small,” she coos. She scoops it out of Nicole’s hand and brings it close to her chest. Needle-like claws poke through her t-shirt and barely prick her skin. It itches immediately. The kitten cries again and she strokes it from its head down its spine and lets the poor thing nuzzle into the crook of her neck.

Nicole digs out another kitten and another, of all different colors, gathering them in the bib of her overalls like a kangaroo pouch. There’s five in total.

“Give me that,” she says and plucks the orange one from Waverly’s embrace and puts it in the bib too.

 “Hey!”

“They’re tiny killers.”

“What?” Waverly laughs.

“You’re allergic. Your eyes are already itchy, I can tell.”

Nicole’s not wrong. The back of her throat feels scratchy too, but that little thing is cute, and Waverly wants it.

 “Well, just let me cuddle it for a second longer,” Waverly says melting over the pile of tiny fluffies wiggling around in Nicole’s lap.

Nicole presses her open hand against Waverly’s chest and extends her arm, pushing Waverly back and keeping her at bay, “Absolutely not.”

“Please? I’ll be okay. I swear.”

“No kittens for you.”

Giving up, Waverly leans back on her heels, arms folded over her chest, and pouts. “You’re not my mother.”

“Funny, I could say the same about you.”

***

The door shuts quietly, still it stirs Waverly from her nap. She peers over the back of the couch looking through blurry watery eyes, and coughs. It feels like she’s breathing through a straw. Last night, Nicole stashed the kittens away upstairs in an empty bedroom with a cardboard box and a blanket. She then taped a sign to the door labeled in Sharpie: NO EARP ZONE. It didn’t keep Waverly from sneaking in a few times while she was away.

 “Jesus, Waverly. Your face.”

Waverly props up on her elbows to get a better view and rubs the sleep from her swollen eyes. It’s difficult to focus, but she can make out Nicole’s warped figure hovering over the end of the couch. “It’s nothing. Just the sniffles,” she says.

“Nothing? You were cuddling those kittens again, weren’t you?” Nicole accuses, as she lets her messenger bag slip to the floor.

“No,” Waverly denies, but her body betrays her, and a sneeze rushes out. On the bright side she can hear out of her left ear again. “Okay, but here’s the thing. Calamity Junior was crying! I just went in to check on her and discovered Sasha Fierce trapped in the closet. I had to help them, Nicole. They’re babies.”

“Who the fuck is Sasha Fierce?”

“The little one with the white tuft of hair on his chest…he looks just like his father.”

“Okay,” Nicole says, shaking her head. “I think Calamity… senior can take care of her own kittens. You need to go to the hospital.”

“No-no. I just need a little Benadryl,” Waverly dismisses. “Maybe you could get me some? Last time I tried to buy Benadryl I got a little pregnant,” she jokes, but Nicole doesn’t laugh.

“I don’t think Benadryl is enough this time, sweetheart…your face looks like Play-Doh.”

“That seems a little uncalled for.” 

“Come on. Get up.” Nicole insists. She slides Waverly’s legs from the couch and supports her back while she shimmies herself up. “Where’s your shoes?”

Despite the need to clear her throat and soothe the incessant itch there, Waverly continues to deny it. She’s chugged a half-gallon of water already, and knowing damn well it wouldn’t work, she tried using slightly chewed Pringles to scratch it. “Really, I’m fine. No big deal.”

“You’re not.”

Nicole ignores her protests, scooping her off the couch and carrying her bridal style to the front door. She hooks the keys to the Jeep around her finger and bends down enough for Waverly to stretch her arm and retrieve her shoes from the floor.

“You don’t have to carry me like a baby, you know?” Waverly says once they’re out on the porch. “There’s nothing wrong with my legs.”

Even through blurry puffy eyes, Waverly catches the smile dimpling Nicole’s face. She ducks her head, kisses Waverly’s cheek, again in the crook of her neck, then pecks her on the lips. “I know, but I want to.” 

Waverly warms to the gesture and tightens her grip around Nicole’s neck as they exit through the porch doors and down the walkway. She likes this Nicole, the surprisingly sweet side of her. Not that Nicole’s rough and mean all the time, just grumpy. Waverly laughs to herself: Sour Patch Wife ™.

Unlocking the Jeep door requires some maneuvering as Nicole shifts Waverly’s weight to one arm, then she gracefully opens the door, situates Waverly in the passenger seat, and buckles her in. “You’re so stubborn,” Nicole says with a smile.

***

The receptionist at the front desk doesn’t acknowledge them as they approach. She doesn’t so much as look up from her computer screen while her fingers tap tap tap ten miles an hour over her keyboard. Nicole clears her throat. No response. It’s like they’re not even here.  

A nurse peruses behind the receptionist, lifting a few files from the desk and tucking them under her arm. “Do you have the check-in slip for J. Rodriguez?”

The receptionist responds with a half-ass nod and blindly reaches for a pink form tucked under the stapler. She hands it to the nurse without looking.

“Gracias,” the nurse says, and hurries away around the corner.

Nicole clears her throat again. “Excuse me,” she says more politely than Waverly expected.

The receptionist’s shoulders deflate in a heavy sigh as if it’s a real chore to pry her eyes from her computer screen. Her tone of voice isn’t any more enthusiastic. “Can I help you?”

The tension building in Nicole’s body doesn’t go unnoticed, the way her fingers squeeze around a pen located on the counter, or the veins prominent in her biceps, Waverly braces herself for whatever ill-mannered remarks she’s about to offer.

“Hi there,” Nicole says, and leans an arm on the counter, clicking the pen as if she were checking into a fancy hotel. “I am sorry to bother you. I can see that you’re busy, but my wife here is having a severe allergic reaction to a very naughty pussy.”

The receptionist’s mouth falls open like a trap door, and her skin turns ashen. Waverly can only imagine the satisfaction it brings Nicole earning such a response.

“Nicole,” Waverly wheezes, but no one hears her.

“Yeah, I warned her not to go in there, but she’s so damn stubborn.” Nicole continues while the receptionist stares in disbelief. “I think she likes the feeling…soft…and warm.” She chuckles, “but who doesn’t love that?”

“Nicole,” Waverly wheezes a little louder and yanks on her arm this time. “Stop it.”

Nicole shuts her mouth, but she doesn’t look away. She continues to antagonize the receptionist with a cheeky grin spread across her face. The receptions gets redder by the second until she finally concedes, returning to her computer and her unenthusiastic self. “Name?”

 “Waverly Earp.”

“Date of birth?”

“Look,” Nicole says and slaps the counter. The pen rolls off the edge and onto the receptionist’s desk. “She’s been here before; we don’t need to go through all the logistics. Can you please just fix her?”

The receptionist keeps her eyes on her screen, Waverly suspects more to avoid Nicole’s killer shark eyes, than anything, “Date of birth?” She repeats.

“Useless,” Nicole growls

Everything is blurry under the fluorescent lights, except the dark grouted lines dancing on the floor, the creamy-off-white tiles blend into emptiness, leaving nothing for Waverly to stand on. The air she sucks into her lungs, squeezing through the ever-thinning straw of her throat, is unsatisfying. She’s getting dizzy. Nicole . She wants to call out, but there’s no room in her body to speak. Waverly reaches for Nicole to get her attention, but a woman calls from the distance.

“Nicole?”

Nicole whips around in the direction of the woman’s voice, immediately grumbling, “Of-fucking-course.”

Thick dark hair and large brown eyes, larger than Nicole’s, is enough for Waverly to recognize her. “What are you doing here?” Shae asks as she approaches.

“We’re here for the food.” Nicole shrugs. “What are you doing here?”

“I have taken a temporary position. Purgatory General is short-staffed, and I offered to help out. Megan is more than capable of running my practice in The Big City while I’m away.”

“Oh, goody.” Nicole remarks.

After a brief glance at Waverly clinging to the back of Nicole’s t-shirt for stability, sweat dotting her forehead, Shae acknowledges her standing there. Nicole wraps an arm around her protectively and Waverly continues to fight for her attention digging her nails into Nicole’s wrist and her forearm.

“I see your wife has had another… incident .”

“She didn’t have an incident .” Nicole mocks. “Calamity Jane had an incident…five of them.”

 “I see. I thought you were going to get her spayed.”

“ Nicole ,” Waverly says. It’s silent. Her heart is beating too fast and too slow at the same time. The lobby is getting hotter, or it could be the heat roaring off Nicole’s body, but she thinks she’s going to be sick, and her throat is too tight, she might drown in her own body. “ Nicole.”

Nicole dismisses Shae’s remark. “ I thought you were going back to The Big City. I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought Purgatory wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I thought that’s what I wanted too, but…”

Waverly forces one last gasp, it’s all the energy she has before her knees buckle, and she nearly slips from under Nicole’s arm. Nicole catches her before she does. “Oh my god, Waverly?” she scoops Waverly up again holding her close against her chest. “Fucking help her!” Nicole demands of Shae.

“Of course, come with me,” Shae says and rushes them to the nearest exam room, already slipping her stethoscope from around her neck. It’s cold against Waverly’s hot itchy skin and Waverly reacts by digging her nails into Nicole’s shoulder.

 “How far along is she?”

“What?” Nicole says.

“In her pregnancy.”  No response. Waverly can’t make out Nicole’s expression. All she sees are the smudgy glimpses through fluorescent lighting. “Look, it’s a small town. People talk.”

“Nicole,” Waverly wheezes some more.

It’s the last thing she wants to do, lie to a doctor. Shae will know they’re lying, but Dr. Svane’s there in the back of her head. No exceptions. Not even an ex-wife and Nicole knows that too. It’s clear in her voice that Nicole doesn’t want to lie to Shae any more than Waverly does. They agreed to tell this lie and it’s too fucking late now.

“It’s going to be alright, sweetheart,” she whispers there, with her lips pressed to Waverly’s temple. “A little over two months,” she answers.

Shae waves them into a room as she calls down the hall at the nurse. “I need an ultrasound in here!”

If Waverly could breathe, if her heart wasn’t doing a million things at once, if every inch of her skin wasn’t screaming to be scratched, she might feel the rock sinking to the pit of her stomach. Shae is going to know. They can’t lie to a machine.

“Set her down right here,” Shae says, pointing to the exam table.

That’s cool on her skin too. It’s tempting to take all her clothes off and pancake out over the vinyl to cool her overheated body. Shae smiles at her, following the sound of latex slapping against skin, and the plastic cap of a needle, right before the sharp sting in her deltoid, “That should reduce some of the swelling,” Shae says.

The relief is almost instant. Waverly’s throat opens and her breathing gets easier. The needle is disposed of in a red bin and Shae checks her vitals next. “Your blood pressure is low. Waverly, can you speak?”

Waverly nods.

Shae drags over a stool and situates herself on it in front of Waverly. Her expression shifts from jealous ex-wife to the concerned doctor. Neither makes Waverly feel confident in her ability to pull this off. “How long have you been like this?”

“I-I don’t know.” Waverly says and clears her throat. It’s still a little phlegmy. “It got worse in the last five minutes, but before that, I just felt a little itchy.”

Shae nods. “Have you ever gone into anaphylactic shock before?”

“When I was a kid. I was stung by a bee.”

Shae nods again as if to confirm a theory. “It is rare for a cat allergy to trigger anaphylactic shock, but since you’ve had it before, that puts you at a higher risk to experience it again.”

A nurse comes wheeling in the ultrasound machine and crosses the room to the other side of Waverly’s bed where she plugs it in. It chirps when it’s powered up. Shae lifts from her stool to the back wall and retrieves a white tube from the cabinet.

“Waverly, I need you to lay back. I need to check on the baby and see if I can get a heartbeat. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Waverly’s worried alright. What happens when Shae rubs that jelly all over her stomach and finds it empty? Reluctantly she slides herself back and takes Nicole’s hand. Nicole reassures her with a smile. It’s not reassuring.

“Alright Waverly this will be a little cold.”

Shae squirts a big blob of it all over her stomach then smears it around with the probe. It’s cold and gross. After what feels like forever, Shae pauses and removes the probe. “Waverly, have you had an ultrasound before?

“No.”

“Are you sure you’re over eight weeks?”

“Yeah,” Waverly swallows. “Is something wrong?”

“Hmm…I’m just not finding a heartbeat…or anything .” The last part is nearly inaudible.

“Oh.”

“I think we should try to do this ultrasound transvaginally,” Shae says.

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s hand hard enough to crush bones. “What now?”   

“It’s possible that your baby is deep in your pelvis and unfortunately the ultrasound waves won’t pass through bones, inserting a transvaginal probe will allow me to take a better look.”

The tightness squeezes in on her throat again and her grip on Nicole’s hand gets a verbal grunt of pain from Nicole. This is far beyond what she agreed to.

Far.

Beyond.

“Nope,” Waverly shakes her head. “That’s not what’s going on here. It’s a shy baby, that’s all. No need for probing today, thank you.”

“Waverly, obviously I can’t make you. You can wait until you’re further along and schedule an appointment with your gynecologist and everything could be fine, but I would like to take a look if possible, for peace of mind.”

***

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Waverly says clipping in her seatbelt with a little too much enthusiasm. She shuts the Jeep door equally frustrated.

“Why? What did I do?”

Waverly rolls her eyes. This is all Nicole’s fault. This wasn’t her idea but somehow, she’s the one getting probed by Nicole’s ex-wife. “You know what you did.”

“I didn’t make you pregnant.”

“Yeah, you kind of did.”  

“Sweetheart, we both know I do not have the anatomy to knock you up.”

“Let’s play a game, Waverly. I’m good at games,” she mocks. “It will be so fun. Just pretend you’re pregnant in front of everyone… oh , and all of America.” She jabs her finger into Nicole’s shoulder. “You’re not the one who had to lie to your entire family. You didn’t have to fight off your crazy ex-boyfriend, who thinks he’s the father of your imaginary baby! I did. I had to do all those things, and then to top it off, your ex-wife has been all up in my… business . Not something I wanted to have in common with you by the way. I’m furious, Nicole!” she snaps throwing up her arms, “…and now I’m hungry.”

“Well…I could make you dinner?” Nicole says with a hopeful lilt to her voice. If she thinks dinner is going to make all this go away, then she has something else coming to her.

“Fine,” Waverly pouts. She really is hungry.

“What do you want?”

“Tacos.”

“Okay. Tacos it is.”

“ Vegan tacos,” Waverly adds.

“Got it.”

It’s quiet. Waverly doesn’t have anything else to say. She props up her elbow on the window ledge and uses it to hold up her head, wondering how the fuck she got here. They said there would be drama. Well, there’s drama alright, and Waverly seems to be the center of it. Had she only known when signing that contract, how deep PGE would root into her life, she might have reconsidered. This damage is permanent. Whatever the outcome of this fake pregnancy is, she’ll have to live with it.

“I’m sorry,” Nicole offers.

“I know.” But it’s not okay.

“Maybe Chrissy or Jeremy could take care of Calamity Jane until her kittens are old enough to be on their own. I don’t want you to be miserable…or tempted again.”

“Fine,” Waverly says. Focusing out the window as the latest issues wash over her, she sighs. “What are we going to do about Shae?”

“She can’t say anything.”

“How do you know?”

“She can’t.”

“And Dr. Svane?”

“Fuck him,” Nicole says glancing at Waverly. They make eye contact in the reflection of the window. “He doesn’t get to know.”

***

“Extra. Extra. Read all about it!”

“Sit down, Robin. I am not in the mood for this shit.” Eliza commands. She drops a stack of magazines on the center of the table before claiming a chair, and fans them out for Waverly and Nicole to see.

Waverly wilts. Tabloids. Her favorite. She selects one from the pile and drags it across the table. There she is. Front and center of Entertainment Now!

Ready to be a mom: An exclusives look into Waverly’s preparations into parenthood. Hear what friends and family are saying about her pregnancy, less than five months into her marriage with wife Nicole Haught, and the reality TV star’s scandalous affair with ex-boyfriend, Champ Hardy.

“Are they ever going to let that go?” Waverly says and examines the photo.  She leans in a little closer noticing a significant roundness to her belly. “Hey!” she exclaims and taps her finger down over the picture. “They gave me a belly!”

“It happens,” Eliza shrugs. “But that’s not the worst of it.” Eliza slings a second magazine across the table to Waverly. It hits the first, shifting it away. This time Nicole huddles close to read the headline on the cover of Gossipzilla , Waverly blinks at it for all of two seconds before tearing through the magazine to page nine: Waverly and Nicole’s leaked sex tape!

Recently a video broke out over social media rumored to be of the reality TV power couple, known to fans as, WayHaught. The video spread so widely across social media, that MTV Spotlight did a feature on the most notable celebrity sex tapes, and explicitly discussed the newest addition.

“There’s pictures,” Nicole says, her face wrinkles in disgust before she washes it away with her Monster and crinkles the can.

There are three pictures, primarily pixelated images of Nicole’s ass. Waverly sighs with relief; there are no pictures of her ass.

“That could be anyone,” Nicole gestures over the magazine. She leans back in her chair, arms folded over her chest, and sighs.

“Well it’s not,” Eliza grunts. “And that’s not all either.”

The third magazine, Reality First , she hands over already open to an article that instantly has Waverly’s stomach in knots. She reads this one out loud for Nicole to hear.

Waverly’s and Nicole’s visit to Purgatory General last weekend may have created turmoil in the couple’s relationship, as the health of their unborn child is uncertain. A friend of the family said both are in good spirits and have a positive outlook for the future. Yet, another family friend witnessed an entirely different story. “There’s been a lot of tension,” the friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, has stated. “Not the happy cheery couple they usually are.” The friend went on to describe a heated argument outside of the popular coffee shop, Eden’s, where Waverly works. What the couple was fighting about is unclear…

“What friend?” Waverly demands.

“God, what couple?” Nicole scoffs. “ Cheery ? Waverly, you need to find more observant friends.”

“I don’t even know who that person is, obviously!”

“Oh, they make that shit up.” Eliza dismisses. “There’s no friend.” She scans over the two of them, dissecting them with a suspicious stare. “Now, are you two sons-of-bitches going to tell me what’s going on with this baby?”

Waverly panics, “No-nothing. It was—”

“It was an allergic reaction to some kittens,” Nicole interrupts. “No big deal. The baby is fine. The kittens are fine. We’re all just fucking fine.”

“You sure?” Eliza questions. She hovers over the table scouring them for any holes in their story. Waverly shrinks back in her chair trying not to offer any.

“Yup,” Nicole confirms.

“Alright, well to avoid any more friend comments, you’re going to do an official statement regarding the state of your pregnancy. Robin will prep you with your responses,” she points her finger at Nicole with a stern look. “And I don’t want you going off script! Rosita will dress you and you will wear what she picks out for you. She turns to Waverly next. “Shelly will provide the photos for the article to avoid any tampering, and to make sure you two don’t look like idiots. Understand?”

Waverly nods obediently. Nicole’s less intimidated. She takes a bite out of her scone like they’re having Sunday brunch. “Yes, ma’am,” she says with sarcasm.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Eliza adds before pushing out of her chair and walking away with Robin right behind her.

“Geez Louise,” Waverly says when Eliza’s out of earshot. “And I thought you were extra grumpy this morning.”

“Why is it always so much of my ass?”

Waverly shrugs and rips off a piece of Nicole’s scone. “Glad it’s not my ass,” she mumbles with her mouth full.

Nicole sighs yanking on her messenger bag and draping it over her shoulder. “I have to go. See you tonight?”

Waverly nods and smiles.

“Later, sweetheart.”

***

The letter was taped to the door when she got here. At first, she feared it was another threat from Bulshar, and when she noticed Nicole wasn’t home, it seemed the smartest thing to do was to get into her car and leave. Curiosity had other ideas.

It flutters in her hands, pinched between her fingertips, as her pulse pounds so hard she can hear it. Written across the front of the envelope in sharp sloppy letters, it says: Waverly .  Again, the thought crosses her mind, the part of her that doesn’t want to end up on Dateline, tells her to get in her car and go. Leave the letter for when Nicole gets home, but again curiosity overpowers her.

The envelope is sealed, and it takes Waverly a second to slice through it enough with her fingernail to peel it open. The tri-folded paper is centimeters too long for the envelope and Waverly has to shimmy it out. She doesn’t notice when the envelope coasts to the porch floor and settles at her feet. Though she is relieved it’s not a bomb or some kind of chemical weapon released into the air to kill her, she has learned over the last four months that words can be more deadly.

She braces herself for more naked sex tape photos, bullshit newspaper clippings, or ominous statements of, I know what you did last summer , and it’s none of these things. It’s just a letter with a sticky note stuck to the top.

The sticky note has the same sharp sloppy letters.

I thought you might like to know.

-J

The sticky note is plucked from the page and left to float to the ground with the envelope unnoticed. The heading she reads first, immediately confused, she continues past it. Wildly, she scans the paper, rather a document, that at first glance she doesn’t understand. Columns of codes and numbers. Meaningless jargon.

Case No : 35667L

Waverly J. Earp

Julian M. Christensen

It’s the last part that chills her. Every hair on her body stands at the realization of the lie she’s unknowingly been living her whole life. The lie that someone she loves has been feeding her. Of all people, how could he do this to her? She reads it again and again to make sure she read it right, and that she’s not crazy. She’s not crazy .

The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child. Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA, the probability of paternity is 99.999998%

Hands trembling to the point of near uselessness, Waverly fumbles for her phone in her pocket. So beside herself at the chilling revelation, in her clumsiness, she dials the wrong number first. In her second attempt it rings twice, and he answers.

“Hello?” Uncle Julian says.

Waverly is silent at first. Suddenly cold, her teeth chatter, and her tongue is too limp to speak. This letter was left on her doorstep. He didn’t have the balls to tell her face to face, so what the fuck is she supposed to say to him?

“Angel, are you okay?”

She takes in a deep breath and it comes out in a hurry. “You lied to me! All these years. Why? Why are you just telling me now?”

“Telling you what? You’re going to have to give me more to go off of here.”

“I got your letter,” Waverly says and reads back it’s annotation. “I thought you might like to know. What does that even mean?”

“Angel, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What letter?”

“The one you left on my front porch!”

“I-I didn’t leave you a letter,” he says defensively.

“It’s signed J…” she trails off. Oh. That bitch , she thinks.

“Waverly?”

 Regardless of where and how this letter came to be on her front porch, she wants answers and if Julian has them, it’s time he fesses up. “Are you my father?”

He doesn’t fight it, the truth is given immediately, and fuck it if it doesn’t hurt. “…You weren’t supposed to ever find out about that. I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Real nice,” Waverly snarls and hangs up the phone. It rings almost instantly. She doesn’t answer it. It’s left on the table when she bolts through the front porch doors and to her Jeep. 

***

“Waverly?” Chrissy says.

Chrissy’s blurry or the room is tipping, and her voice is strained through the thumping music coming from the dance floor. Ice Nine is crowded and Waverly hoped she could disappear here. Whatever it doesn’t matter. Waverly returns to her drink. It’s safe to say she’s sloppy drunk at this point and relying on the bar top for stability. Drinking is not a skill she inherited. Daddy and Wynonna are masters, and she’s seen Aunt Gus hold down her share of liquor. Now, Waverly understands, because the one person in her family that is quick to pass up the booze, is Uncle Julian. Mama always called him a saint. Daddy called him a pussy.

Chrissy settles against the bar top, ducking her head to study Waverly’s face, she sweeps the hair from Waverly’s shoulder and rests her hand there. “Waves, what are you doing?”

 “Nunya,” Waverly slurs, and shrugs off Chrissy’s touch.

“Are you drinking?” Chrissy says lowering her voice, “You’re pregnant.”

“Not anymore,” Waverly admits, smacking her hands on her stomach like a drum. It shouldn’t be any surprise at this point. Her stomach is as flat as it’s always been, just as if she still were the captain of the cheer squad, not that she’s bragging.

It’s best that this ends now before they have to explain why Waverly’s tummy isn’t growing. It’s not realistic to be walking around with different sized watermelons tucked under her shirt. Waverly chuckles at the thought. She can’t imagine working at Eden’s like that. What would have happened if she ran into a table corner and smashed the thing? Nicole get the Jeep, my watermelon broke! Waverly laughs again, feeling silly in her uncoordinated body while tipping too far to one side or the other.

Chrissy’s concern morphs into pity. Again, she brushes hair from Waverly’s shoulder and her face. “I’m so sorry, babe. What happened? Do you want to talk about it? You know I’m here for you.”

“Right,” Waverly huffs, then takes her shot glass and tips it back. It goes down easily. She can hardly taste it anymore. Licking her lips as she eyes the bottle on the bar top, she fills her shot glass again. It spills over the edges, pooling around the base, and with her finger she drags a line through it. “You wouldn’t understand, and no I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Look, you’re clearly going through something. Let me take you home? Kyle can drive us.”

“No, you look!” Waverly growls. Her arms swing wild gestures between them. “I’m not going through anything but this bottle, and then…I’m going out there to dance.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Waves. I think you should let me take you home.”

“I know. Everyone thinks they know what’s best for me. Everyone makes all the decisions, and no one ever thinks to ask me what I want. Well, I got news for yooou buddy,” she says hiccupping and swaying forward with her movement, Waverly jabs her finger into Chrissy’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Chrissy squeaks.

“I’m calling the shots ‘ere. What I say goes.”

“Fine, if you won’t listen to me; I’m going to call Nicole.”

“Good, go ahead and call Mrs. Grumpy pants. I’m sure she’ll have a great plan to make this all better like she always does.”

She doesn’t give Chrissy a second glance before submerging herself in the crowded dance floor. The music brings her body to life in a way nothing else can. Just for tonight she wants to get so wildly lost in the music, and the people, and the feeling of being drunk and reckless, that she forgets.

Waverly’s eyes flutter shut, and she lets the rhythm flow through her. With her fingers she combs through her hair and drags her hands down her face and her neck, over her stomach, to hold herself at her swaying hips.

Sometimes it feels good to be empty and vacant. Invincible. And it’s not about any man…or woman. It’s just about being. She’s been living in a series of unfortunate events. One bad news after another, and she’s getting tired of pretending.

When Waverly opens her eyes, the technicolor lights strobing on the dance floor blur together like rainbow toothpaste and she stumbles forward into two strong arms.  

Even though it’s Nicole, and she’s safe, in her mind there’s still an element of danger, as if they were two strangers meeting for the first time. She drapes her arms around Nicole’s neck as their bodies come together, and in the next beat Nicole’s hands are at her waist. Waverly leans into her. There’s something mesmerizing in the way Nicole takes control over Waverly’s hips with her own.

Their bodies move together in a fluent motion like the ripples in satin sheets. The back of Nicole’s knuckles ghost over Waverly’s arms, painting her skin in goosebumps, and her cheeks with roses. Nicole spins her around like she’s a delicate breakable thing that only she can keep together, and when they’re chest to chest again, they exchange those last breaths before a kiss that never happens. Nicole’s lips barely brush hers, soft as a whisper, and they’re gone in a smile. You’re my sweetheart.

 “I’m yours,” Waverly says, and it’s drowned out by the music. She buries her face in Nicole’s shoulder and scrunches up the fabric of the back of her t-shirt. She could be screaming, and no one would hear her, but there’s no doubt Nicole can feel her body shaking, the relief in a heavy sigh as she lets it flow out of her.

Nicole doesn’t say anything. She keeps their bodies swaying soft and soothing while Waverly tightens against her. “Take me somewhere.”

***

Waverly was born under a moon like this, a dark cotton candy sky, ominous yet magical. Described by mama as a dim light shining through the foggy darkness, still enough to guide Uncle Julian to the greenhouse. Tonight, the moonlight illuminates the cool blue of Bunny Loblaw’s pool. It’s not as dramatic as the one mama fantasized, but Waverly still finds some magic in it casting its ethereal glow across Nicole’s soft-smiling dimpled face.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, sweetheart?”

Edging closer to the lip of the pool Waverly swings her legs back in forth in the water. The feeling is familiar and different at the same time. This pool has become a time capsule of moments through her journey of reality tv life. She got married, she got pregnant, moved into a cute little house in the ‘burbs. A classic American Dream. Except this is not a real marriage and she’s not actually pregnant. She’s not even an Earp.

Of all the changes, all the lies, all the surprises, there has been one consistency, one thing above all else she hopes is true. Nicole . Always there for Waverly in her weakest moments, Nicole is the only one who can bring a calmness to Waverly’s stormy waters. And by submerging her in this pool, as Nicole has a handful of times, Waverly has come out as something freer, something a little bit older and a little bit braver every time. This pool is their pool. Their place to clean themselves of the dirt and drama PGE brings, and Jolene , and of life itself, not to get too dramatic.

Waverly mourns the fact that she’s likely too drunk to get in. There won’t be any swimming and cleansing tonight. No treading water like water skippers in the moonlight, or the taste of chlorine on Nicole’s lips when they come together in a kiss. Maybe this, she’s not meant to wash away.

“Uncle Julian is my father,” Waverly confesses.

Nicole laughs. “And that’s news?”

Just like the moments, the pool holds on to ghosts. The one’s Waverly wants to shed most of all. Waverly imagines Jolene’s twisted warped shape sitting across from her—her menacing smile, a malicious entity, stronger willed than Waverly. Waverly’s easy prey, her complicated family history is a lifetime of ammo. There’s no doubt in Waverly’s mind, Jolene’s hunting down all the skeletons in Waverly’s closet, Nicole’s too, and it would be naïve of them to underestimate Jolene’s ability to dig them out.

“It was to me,” Waverly says, wilting. Her weight concentrates on the rough concrete carving jagged lines into her palms.

“Waverly, you look just like him,” Nicole says.

Waverly grimaces. It’s not the first time that someone has mistaken Uncle Julian for family, for her father, and with each time she hoped it would be true. She wanted it more than anything, and now…

“Why else would he have stuck around your whole life?”

“He was my mom’s best friend!” Waverly defends, mostly herself for being so stupid.

Nicole snorts. “No-no-no. If that were the case, it would be…just creepy. I’m honestly surprised Ward didn’t punch him in the face. I would have if it were my daughter.”

“You’d punch anyone for any reason.”

“No. I’d punch anyone for you.” Nicole clarifies.

“He should have told me. I mean, that’s all I ever wanted as a kid, to have a dad like all my friends did. I grew up with Chrissy and Jeremy and they both have really good dads. I could have had that if he had told me.”

“But you did have that. Julian is your dad and he did all the things that the other dads did. Did he not?”

“But he lied!”

“Waverly, I don’t know who my father is,” Nicole says. She takes in a deep breath on the vape pen she retrieved from her front pocket and tucks her hair behind one ear. “And my mother chose psychedelics and music festivals over me. So, I know what that feels like, but I still had a dad.”

Waverly wipes away a tear she didn’t know was falling and takes Nicole’s hand, lacing their fingers.

“My grandpa took care of me. He loved me and did all the dad things with me. Even though he wasn’t my real dad, his love was more than enough for me. I never felt like I was missing out on anything.” Nicole smiles softly. “I don’t want to take away from how you are feeling right now, because I can see how hurt you are, but couldn’t all the love that Julian gave you as your Uncle, be enough?”

“I guess I can’t really argue that.”

“Well, you can. I’m just trying to offer another perspective. I want you to be okay, sweetheart.”

Waverly falls into Nicole’s side with her arm wrapped around Nicole’s waist. Nicole holds her tucked in close. “I’m okay with you.” Waverly sighs and makes a sweeping glance up at Nicole. “You’re the only one I can really trust, Nicole.”

***

“Beautiful ladies, just goddamn sextabulous,” Shelly worships, with his camera flashing every five fucking seconds. Nicole was over it at the first shot, and to express her disdain for the royal blue floral print Rosita stuffed her in, she undoes a button every time the camera goes off. Turns out the button thing is a huge hit with Shelly. “How about one more, Nicole,” he practically begs.

There’s a gape in her shirt half-way down her chest already. If Rosita hadn’t color coordinated her bra so well, it would be in-your-face obvious. It’s nice to look at, for Waverly, but Waverly doesn’t want PGE to share her wife’s perfect cleavage with the rest of America.

“Okay, I think that’s enough buttons.” she protests pawing at Nicole’s shirt to refasten them.

“Enough photos too, I think,” Nicole adds. Her fingers pinch the drawstrings at the back of Waverly’s neck, which are the only things holding up the top of her romper. Waverly stiffens.

“Don’t pull that,” she says through clenched teeth. Nicole keeps the threat there until all the buttons are fastened and Waverly releases her shirt. “Stop being so ornery. There are people around.”

Nicole laughs. “But that’s part of the fun, sweetheart.”

Waverly huffs her annoyance. Nicole already loosened those strings once today, in the bathroom. The front of her romper slid down her chest and her breasts spilled out over the bunching up navy cotton.

“Hm,” is all Nicole said, examining Waverly in the reflection of the mirror, and then she exited that bathroom.

“Alright ladies, this is Mackenzie. She will be doing your interview today,” Eliza introduces.

A short mousey looking woman enters the room in green corduroy overalls and knee-high boots. She’s got over teased hair that smells like cotton candy hairspray and blue and pink eyeshadow to match. Mackenzie situates herself at the fold up table Eliza had set up in the studio.

Shelly thought it would be beneficial to shoot in his studio so he could play with different backgrounds, and really give them a family-oriented look. Something to help them get out from under their sex tape scandal. Waverly’s not sure what kind of family look he was going for with Nicole’s rebellious striptease, or how that would help them recover from that creepy eyed peeping-tom.

Nicole shakes her vape pen as she slides in her chair and situates herself. “You mind?” she asks but doesn’t wait for an answer before sucking in on the little black pen, lighting up the tip blue.

Mackenzie doesn’t acknowledge it. A tape recorder is set on the table pointed at the two of them and Mackenzie pushes in the red button to record. Facing them, she drops her hands in her lap, and attempts to give them her full attention. “Alright, let’s start with some basics then.” She says, “You guys just got married in March, how long were you together before that?”

Nicole clears her throat. That answer was on Waverly’s cue card. They memorized them last night. Eliza wanted the answer to seem authentic and wouldn’t allow the cards to be visible to the interviewer. Naturally Waverly forgot all the answers.

“Three-Three-ish years.”

Mackenzie nods. “And how did you meet?”

Nicole rolls her eyes hard enough she practically rolls herself out of her chair. She’s never liked small talk and she’s not one for questions she deems stupid…which is all questions. “Well, Waverly works at this coffee shop called Eden’s. I like to buy things from Eden’s.”

“Less sarcasm, Nicole,” Eliza instructs from her place lingering in the corner, arms folded across her chest and biting at her thumbnail.

“I like her scones.” She winks.

Mackenzie narrows her eyes, nodding slowly as she understands.

“What she means is,” Waverly adds. “she likes Eden’s scones. Being as I am always there, we see a lot of each other. One day she asked me on a date—”

“For coffee…at a different, less hipstery coffee shop. Terrible coffee. Beautiful company.” Nicole smiles a charming smile at Waverly.

Waverly deflects Nicole’s charming smile and raises her a cut-the-shit-glare . That was not on the cue card. Eliza looks about ready to stab Nicole in the eye with a pencil. She was adamant that Nicole follow all the directions, wear the clothes, talk the talk, and shut the mouth. It wouldn’t matter if Eliza held a gun to Nicole’s head. Nicole is the essence of uncontrollable. Wild and untamable. She is the tall, dark, and broody character in a vampire romance novel. There’s always a way for her to take her directions and shove it right back up someone’s ass. That ass is usually Eliza’s.

“Great. What brought you to The Newlyweds? What prompted you to sign up for reality TV?”

“Money,” Nicole says flatly and sucks in again on her pen. At first Nicole is respectful and exhales off to the side keeping the space between her, Waverly, and Mackenzie clear. It still swirls around in Waverly’s lungs, creating an ache there. The vapor doesn’t usually trigger her asthma, not like the cigarettes did, or that Calamity Jane, or the pollen Nicole brings in on her Timberland’s after working outside all day. Before Waverly can continue that thought, she forces her attention back on Mackenzie.

“Money, yes. We are newly married…obviously and wanted to have money to travel. Nicole wants to modernize the house for our future…”

“Modernize?” Nicole snaps. “There’s no modernization. I want to preserve the integrity of the existing structure. I want to build onto something that is already perfect and make it better.”

“Okay. Damn, calm down.”

“Next question,” Eliza commands.

“Speaking of the house, have you done any preparation for the baby?”

“No. Next question.” Nicole says with a challenging nod of her head to Eliza’s corner of the room.

“Yes,” Waverly corrects. “We have picked out the room with the biggest window. We will be painting it when we get closer and adding furniture.”

Nicole snorts then inhales again. With this breath she releases vapor in a slow stream right into Mackenzie’s face. Mackenzie wafts it away, seemingly unphased. Waverly can see the smirk on Nicole’s face out of the corner of her eye.

“While we’re on this subject. There are some photos of you, Waverly, at Ice Nine appearing to be under the influence. Is that another preparation for the arrival of your future child?”

Waverly’s certain all the color is draining from her face leaving her cheeks cold and lifeless. Ducking her head, she shrinks away from the unavoidable glance she cast to a very red Eliza.

“Excuse the fuck out of me, but how rude are you?” Nicole says tucking her pen in her front pocket. A dark thundering cloud hovers over them, as if Nicole ripped it straight out of a stormy sky.

Mackenzie puts her hands up. “I am simply asking a question based on information already made available to the public.”

“I think that you are accusing my wife of being a bad mother before her child is even born. I am hearing you pointing fingers to something that you don’t yet understand.”

“Well, explain it to me then. Let me get the truth out there for you, Nicole.”

“You want to know the truth?” Nicole snarls. “The truth is…my wife received some very very upsetting information and the stress of it…it put a lot of strain on her body.”

Is Nicole crying? Waverly studies her, the way she rakes her fingers through her hair, the droop in her shoulders, and the out of characteristic tears, wondering what her game is.

“The truth is…” she shakes her head and takes Waverly’s hand into hers.

“Oh my god. Did something happen to the baby?” Mackenzie exclaims.

“Um…yes that’s exactly what happened.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea obviously. You two must be devastated.”

“We are,” Nicole sniffles she yanks Waverly into her side. Waverly’s too shocked to speak. What the fuck is happening? “Aren’t we, sweetheart?”

***

After the interview, Eliza paces the room throwing a few things to the ground in child-like outbursts, and mumbling something about pain in the ass and listens for shit . While Waverly sits relaxed as the realization comes. Nicole got her unpregnant.

“You dumb shits. I warned you to stay with the cue cards and now what?” Eliza says. “You should have come to me first with that information.”

“What’s wrong with the way I said it?”

Eliza stalls, turning to Nicole, she smacks her hands on the table in front of Nicole. “Are you lying to me?”

“That’s a horrible thing to lie about!” And yet, Nicole is awfully good at it.

“Look, what’s done is done,” Waverly says relieved that it is true. She isn’t pregnant anymore. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

 “I want to know the rest of it. If there are photos of you out there, I need to know the truth.” Eliza demands.

“What’s the big deal, dude? I mean I thought we were on a reality tv show that was in favor of drama. Isn’t that kind of the name of the game?” Nicole says.

“I am your producer, which means I get to know everything about everything, and I am the first to know it. Any drama that is in your lives, I am controlling it. So, if there is something else going on here, I need to know, and I need to know it now. You feel me, dude ?”

Waverly sighs. “My uncle is my father.”

Eliza straightens up from her place on the table.  “What is this, some Game of Thrones shit?”

“No. Uncle Julian is my real father. He’s not my uncle at all.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. I got a letter on the door from Jolene.”

“What?” Nicole says. “You never told me that part.”

Waverly shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter now?”

“It might,” Eliza says.  

***

Whoosh! The unmistakable hum of rubber bike tires zips along the pavement. Long locks of wavy brown hair swing around her face, tangling in her shirt and catching in her mouth. The back-tire screeches as Nicole’s bike fishtails to a stop outside of Eden’s. Waverly plucks the hair from her mouth and clears it from her face.

Straddling her bike and panting, Nicole slips a water bottle from her bag and drains it over her head shaking it through her hair. It drips down her naked sunburnt skin in long strands that disappear into the front of her sports bra and the back of her skinny jeans. Of course, she wouldn’t wear a shirt, but she still has those skinny jeans on.

“Sugarbear!” Waverly yells as she marches over.  “What are you doing riding around without a shirt? That’s not professional, is it?”

“It’s hot, sweetheart. I’m dying.”

“Look at you!” Waverly exclaims scanning over Nicole’s blotched cheeks and the scathing red of her shoulders. It bleeds down her back along the outline of her sports bra, looking like a boiled lobster, skin matching the brightness of her hair. “You are scorched. Did you even use sunscreen?”

“No, it smells funny…and I don’t like it when it gets on my lips,” Nicole says, running a thumb over her lower lip.

“You’re ridiculous,” Waverly says with an eye roll. Lucky for Nicole she has a brand new bottle of sunscreen in the Jeep. Without any explanation she jogs back to the Jeep, yanks open the door, and fishes out the bottle from the glove box, spilling out her extra pair of sunglasses and travel checkers in the process.

“Here,” she says trotting back to Nicole. It’s clear by the way Nicole flinches away that she’s not going to volunteer to put it on herself. “Take off your bag and let me put this on you.”

Waverly doesn’t wait for much more of a response than Nicole sliding the bag over her head with a resentful scowl on her face and dangling it from her bike handle. The sunscreen squeezes out in a big gooey glob in the palm of Waverly’s hand. The smell of Pink Moscato, sweet jasmine and mandarin orange kisses her nostrils.

“Ick,” Nicole scoffs.

 Waverly rubs the creamy texture evenly between her palms, then slathers it down Nicole’s back where the sunburn is the brightest. The coolness against Nicole’s hot skin draws a hiss from her chapped lips as she shimmies her shoulders in discomfort and leans back as much as she can within the limitations of her bike straddled between her legs. “Come on, Waverly. Get off me!”

“Hold still, it’s vegan,” Waverly says, still working the lotion into the tense muscles of Nicole’s shoulders and along both sides of her spine. Dragging her hands down Nicole’s arms, she spreads the lotion with long strokes from Nicole’s biceps all the way to her fingertips, and then back up. Bordering on not so work-appropriate, Waverly massages it into Nicole’s chest, taking care to trace her fingers along the hemline of Nicole’s bra, covering every centimeter. Sunburns are dangerous, she justifies, and splays her hand flat against Nicole’s stomach, taking her time to rub in a fresh glob of sunscreen over every flexing line, and the sharp edges of Nicole’s hipbones. You can’t be too careful after all.

“Great. I was obviously worried,” Nicole retorts.

Waverly ignores her, and with her thumbs, she smears a thick layer across Nicole’s cheeks and forehead, then taps Nicole’s nose when she’s finished.

“Yah done?”.

Waverly beams.  “All better.”

“I feel oily.” Nicole whines.

“Well, better oily than cancery.” Waverly shrugs admiring Nicole’s glistening body. She may have enjoyed that a little too much. Even sun cooked and oily, Nicole is so damn sexy. Waverly blushes at her pathetic infatuation and shies away, glancing over her shoulder, and hopes the blush on her cheeks can be blamed on the sun too.

“Listen, I can’t stay today. I just stopped by so you wouldn’t worry…and to give you this.” With her hand lightly wrapped around the back of Waverly’s head, she leans forward and kisses Waverly’s forehead, and then her lips. “And that.” She smiles, adding an alluring wink. She tastes like vegan sunscreen and something sweet, chemical grape. Waverly melts. Maybe it’s the heat or the freedom of not being fake pregnant, but Waverly’s extra melty today.

Nicole’s face lights up, “Oh, and also,” she says shifting her weight and reaches into her messenger bag, retrieving a single longstem rose. “This.” She hands it to Waverly who takes it excitedly.

Waverly smiles and sniffs it, then immediately frowns. “Wait a second. What are you buttering me up for?”

Nicole rolls her eyes and sighs. “I got a thing.”

“What thing?”

“It’s just a thing. A fun thing.”

Waverly squints. “Well, why are you bringing me gifts for this fun thing?”

“Because you’ll think it’s dangerous.” Nicole mumbles.

“Dangerous, Nicole?”

“Who said dangerous?” Nicole says slinging her bag over her shoulder, wincing as it scrapes down her sunburnt back.

“What do you mean dangerous? What are you doing?”

Nicole shrugs. “I’m going to race in The Ten Plagues downtown.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that The Courier Calvary, Dawson’s Deliveries, and all my cyclists, are going to race.”

“Like on your bikes?” Waverly demands. “Also, there is more than one bike messaging business in Purgatory? There’s like fifty people here. How many packages can there possibly be a day?”

“A lot,” Nicole snaps. “And yes, on our bikes. It’s like a scavenger hunt, but not lame. There are ten checkpoints, one for each plague—”

“What happens when you get to a checkpoint?”

“Someone signs my sheet of paper and I get to go to the next one.”

“I just want to make sure I understand,” Waverly says, clearing her throat, her hands perched on her hips. “You’re going to race your bike through town on a scavenger hunt…through morning traffic?”

“Yup.”

“No fucking way, Nicole Haught!”

“Listen, I’ll wear your Smokey the Bear helmet, and you can lather me up in suntan lotion all day long, but sweetheart, you can’t control everything by trying to control me.”

 “Your bike doesn’t even have brakes. I’ve seen you run stoplights and fly through traffic like it’s holding still.” Waverly rambles in a panic. A hopeless feeling of approaching doom overwhelms her. What if Nicole gets hurt? What if she loses her?

“I enjoy it very much. I’ll see you at home.”

Nicole pecks Waverly’s cheek and pushes off on her bike. She fades off into the distance as all the thoughts of her death fill Waverly’s mind.

“Damn her,” Waverly grunts.

She throws her weight into the door to Eden’s and is hit with the smell of shitty coffee and the Monday Blues. Immediately she’s disappointed knowing that for the first time Nicole won’t be coming in to get her morning scone or her Monster. Waverly will be stuck here in their usual routine, alone.

“Waverly,” Gus says in surprise. She rushes around the counter and takes Waverly’s hand lovingly. “Sweetie, what are you doing?”

“Uh, working?”

“Like hell you are.” Gus swoops Waverly into a hug, caressing her hair, Waverly’s arms pat at her back awkwardly. Who is this woman?   This isn’t Gus. “You don’t worry about a thing today. Go home and rest.”

Gus leans back and studies Waverly’s face, her own looking worn and tired, she kisses Waverly’s forehead. “You are going through a hard time. Take the week off to recover, sweet girl.”

Waverly sinks. Clearly Mackenzie’s article has been released and discovered. Quick as usual. Though it does bring her undeniable relief to finally be free of that pregnancy charade, she will never get used to everyone knowing everything about her before she even walks in the door. “But…”

“No buts. I will not take no for an answer.” Gus says shooing Waverly along. “Now go home before I drive you there myself.”

***

Waverly’s phone rings. She answers.

“Hi, is this Mrs. Waverly Earp?”

“Uh…yes.”

“This is Mary from Purgatory General.” Nicole’s dead. “We have you listed as the emergency contact for Nicole Haught.” Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Yeah-yes. She’s my wife. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. You’re going to need to come pick her up though. She’s not fit to drive in her current condition.”

“What kind of condition?”

“You’ll have to come to the hospital. We can give you the details when you get here.”

Dead. That’s what she’s going to be after giving Waverly a heart attack like this. Waverly begged her not to go to that stupid race and now look. All kinds of horrible images flash through her mind—various disfigurements, broken bones, brain trauma. Nicole could turn up as roadkill someday, leaving Waverly a widow.

When Waverly gets to the hospital, the receptionist, not the same unfriendly woman as before, directs Waverly down the hall and to the left to Nicole’s room.

Facedown on the hospital bed, all hazy eyes and drunken movements, Nicole smiles lazily at Waverly entering the room. Instantly Waverly frowns. Not at Nicole or the giant gash in her calf but at Kevin holding Nicole’s hand and Shae sewing Nicole back together. For a split second, Waverly’s not sure she belongs here.

“Sweetheart,” Nicole slurs and it pulls Waverly closer like gravity to the moon. The thought crosses Waverly’s mind, did Nicole call them sweetheart too? Then Nicole, as if she could read Waverly’s thoughts, reaches out to Waverly, “My one and only sweetheart.”

Waverly allows Nicole’s pull to carry her forward to the edge of the hospital bed. She gazes down at Nicole, sunburnt cheeks and dilated pupils, and combs her fingers through Nicole’s sweat-damp-hair. It’s cool to the touch, unlike her skin. “What happened?”

“Stupid Carl needs to pay attention to where the fuck he’s going.”

Nicole hisses and strains her neck to glance down the bed to Shae seated at in a stool, busily pulling and weaving nylon through the gash carved into Nicole’s calf. “Easy down there.”  

Kevin speaks up and explains. “Carl basically t-boned her at the final checkpoint and her leg got caught up in the chainring as she landed.”

Waverly’s stomach twists and her leg twitches in sympathy. The denim of Nicole’s skinny jeans is rolled up as high as it will go above the gaping wound and is tight around the muscle. All of it looks hot and angry.

“Jesus, Nicole.”  

“Hmmmmm…” Nicole says lifting her head, it wobbles like a week old kitten, and she glances from Waverly to Shae, to Kevin, then back to Waverly. She laughs. “Well, this is awkward.”

Waverly’s eyes dart between the other two women in the room. It’s hard not to be jealous of Nicole’s former relationships. They both have something in common that she doesn’t. Nicole picked them. Waverly was thrust into her life through a contract. They wouldn’t be together otherwise, and Nicole would still be with Kevin.  

“I just…she needed a ride to the hospital. That’s all,” Kevin says. “But you’re here now, so I’m just gonna go.”

Nicole grabs Kevin’s hand to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry, Kevin,” Nicole slurs some more, “but me and my wife only date each other now.”

Kevin yanks her arm away. “Go home Nicole, before you say anything else stupid.”

The ring twists on Waverly’s finger, playing with it as she watches Kevin storm from the room. It never comes off and she hasn’t tried in months. She wants it there.  Shae didn’t want it. Waverly didn’t ask for it, but it chose her all along didn’t it?

“You guys need a frequent flyers card,” Shae jokes as she rips off her nitrile gloves and tosses them into the hazard bin. She pushes off from the stool to make her way to the counter and gathers a few things from the cabinet.  

“Funny,” Nicole says sardonically. “You always thought you were so funny.”

“You used to think so too.”

Shae seals the gathered supplies in a sealed plastic bag and hands them to Nicole. Nicole turns away burying her face in Waverly’s side.

“Why don’t you just leave?” Nicole groans. “You’re good at that, remember? Be good at staying away too.”

Shae keeps her expression unreadable, professional. She hands the plastic bag to Waverly and Waverly takes it. “Keep the wound clean and dry. Leave the dressing on for at least two days. You may need to change it if it gets wet with drainage. Come back in seven days to have the stitches removed.” She pauses. “Oh…and no bike until the stitches are out.”

***

Nicole hobbles into the kitchen, raggedy in appearance—drooping shoulders, with her head hanging low. “What are you doing?” she rasps. Leaning her back against the counter she lifts herself up to sit on the edge.

“I’m reorganizing the kitchen drawers. It’s chaos in here.” Waverly informs her, shutting another drawer with her hip. It’s surprising either one of them can find anything in here. Measuring cups are with oven mitts, and potato chips are toppling over—

“What is this?”

The woman on the cover is laid out flat on her stomach, arms wrapped around a fur pillow, the curves of her ass in view, her long legs stretched out behind her. Filth. Waverly rips it from the drawer, shaking it free of stale chip crumbs, and thrusts it out for Nicole to see.

“I dunno,” Nicole shrugs. “Boobs.”

“Boobs? What’s it doing with my snacks?”

“It’s just a magazine, Waverly. She’s not going to eat your snacks.”

“Oh good, because that’s what I was obviously worried about.” Waverly snaps, then strides across the kitchen, opens the cupboard under the sink, and chucks the magazine in the trash, slamming the cupboard door shut again.

“Aren’t you going to recycle that?” Nicole asks as she fishes around in her oversized sweatshirt and brings out a bag of Skittles. Waverly watches her tear the package open with her teeth. She’s been leaning on the slobby side the last few days. Her skinny jeans are on vacation, her silky black gym shorts are filling in for their absence. Red hair tangles around her face and in a knot at the back of her head, untamed.

Waverly can’t really blame her. They’re both bored and irritated. Slobbiness has taken to Waverly too, now wearing Nicole’s sweatpants rolled three times at the top to keep them snug on her hips, and Nicole’s ACDC – Blow up Your Video World Tour cut-off t-shirt. It definitely needs to be washed. It smells like vanilla and a lack of motivation, but it smells like Nicole.

Waverly tugs at the hem as she considers Nicole’s interests in filthy magazines and overanalyzes her unkempt appearance. It makes her wonder if she could get away with cutting the tee some more to show off her tummy. She doesn’t know how long that magazine has been there, but there is a part of her that is jealous Nicole might like that kind of thing, and Waverly is not that kind at all.

“No. Trash belongs with trash.”

Nicole licks a handful of Skittles off the palm of her hand and shakes her head. “The women of the mansion are people too, Waverly. Ms. November is just a girl saving up for her next iPhone upgrade like the rest of us,” she says through a mouthful.

“You’re extremely annoying.”

“I do what I can.”

Waverly’s eyes drift around the kitchen. She could continue her spring cleaning, but cleaning has never been her forte. Nicole does most of the housekeeping and Waverly does all the mess-making, at least that’s how Nicole sees it. Whatever she wants to call it, it’s boring. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind,” Waverly growls and throws herself back against the counter opposite Nicole.  

“Do you want to make weed cookies?” Nicole suggests.

“You know I don’t do that.”

“What if we put dry ice in a bottle?”

“What would that do?”

“Explode.”

“Then absolutely not! One of us could lose a hand.”

Nicole empties the package of Skittles into her mouth and reaches for the cupboard under the sink to toss the wrapper into the trash with Ms. November.

“Hmm,” she says thrumming her fingers against her lips, then her face lights up with a childlike glow. “Do you want to have sex in Bunny Loblaw’s pool?”

Waverly contemplates it. They have done a lot of things in that pool, but not that. “Kind of…now.”

Nicole half slides from the counter excitedly before Waverly adds. “But we can’t do that.” And Nicole stops.

“Bunny might call the cops, or someone could see us. There would be photographic evidence and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Fine.” Nicole pouts and settles back on the counter. “Prude.”

“Well excuse me for not wanting to end up on the cover of Entertainment Now ! I just got free from the last scandal and I sure as hell don’t need another. I need a flippin’ break…at least a month of peace.”

“What if instead, we have sex—”

“We’re not having sex where someone can see us, Nicole! Get that out of your candy-coated brain right now. It ain’t happening, dude.”

Their sex life hasn’t been affected by their house arrest. If anything, that has doubled in frequency from lack of anything better to do. Their bickering has increased tenfold but almost always ends in sex. Almost everything they do lately ends in sex. Sex before bed, in the shower, sex and then a nap. Waverly really is bored out of her fucking mind and the only thing stimulating her is her wife.  

It’s hard not to entertain the idea of doing that now. To ask Nicole to satisfy her. Entertain her. It isn’t shocking to find herself pressed between Nicole’s legs dangling from the counter and her hands gripping Nicole’s waist, thumbs brushing over the sharp edges of her hip bones. Waverly pushes up on her tippy-toes and Nicole meets her halfway. She tastes like rainbows.

The doorbell rings.

Waverly shuffles back as Nicole slides from the counter. “Who the fuck could that be?” Nicole groans.

It’s never a good sign when the doorbell rings, no one good ever shows up on the front porch. PGE said they were giving them the week off to recover from their health issues. It still wouldn’t surprise them if they were at the door with some new stupid skit they wanted Nicole and Waverly to perform.

“No one good,” Waverly says.

She follows Nicole’s slow shuffle through the living room as the doorbell rings again. Nicole opens it to a tall scrawny looking man with UPS printed on his work shirt. He shifts a large cardboard box in front of him and holds out a clipboard to Nicole.

“Mrs. Haught?”

Nicole takes one look at the box, face scrunched up and shakes her head. “No thanks, we already have a onesie.”

She nearly shuts the door in his face before he blocks it with his clipboard. “It’s a bit heavy for a onesie.” He chuckles. “I just need a signature.”  

Nicole looks him over before she signs for it. The man salutes her and trots away back to his truck parked on the side of the road.

They both stare at the box for a bit before Nicole takes her knife from the pocket of her gym shorts. It flicks open.  Nicole squats over it and slips the knife under the tape. Waverly braces herself. What else could he send them? Nicole’s eyes get wide enough to burst and Waverly braces herself.

“What is it?” Waverly gasps.

Launching herself to her feet, Nicole squeals and nearly erupts into dance. She regains her composure when she notices Waverly gawking at her. She clears her throat and opens the box wider for Waverly to see.

It’s a giant case of grape Monster.

There’s a note. Waverly plucks it from its place on top of a case of Monster and reads it. Monster is offering Nicole an endless supply of Monster in exchange for the free advertising she’s been giving on The Newlyweds.

Waverly’s never seen her so happy skipping around holding a Monster in each hand. “Mwah…Mwah.” She kisses them.

 “How am I going to live with you?” Waverly says.

***

The door flies open. Nicole plants herself in the foyer, arms on her hips, chest out in Superman pose. “Sweetheart, I’m home,” she sings.

Pausing mid-stroke, Waverly glances at the wall with a twinge of guilt, then to Nicole. For a minute she thinks Nicole will be mad at her for adding color to the never-ending sea of grey that is their living room. The soft powdery blue accent wall brightens up the room and feels like a fresh breath of air. Waverly thinks with the new color and a large mirror on the wall that separates the living space from the kitchen, the room will have a lot more depth.

“What are you doing?” Nicole blurts and barges through the living room. Hands still on her hips, her eyes scan Waverly’s masterpiece—baseboard to ceiling.

Waverly lowers the paint roller. It dangles at her side, and a few dribbles of paint splatter the plastic tarp she’s standing on. “Painting,” she says, stating the obvious. “I was bored, and I wanted to…”

“Oh,” is all Nicole says with her head tilted as far back as it goes. “How are you going to reach up there?”

The ladder only reaches so high and Waverly’s not much of an extension. The vaulted ceilings are proving to be a challenge, but Nicole has a taller ladder outside. Waverly figures she’d lug it up the stairs. With that dirty thing laid out against the wall, even she can reach the peak of the ceiling.

Suddenly Nicole drops her gaze to Waverly as a thought lights up her face and she removes the paint roller from Waverly’s hand. It splashes into the rolling tin dotting Waverly’s pant leg and her perfectly painted wall. “Do you want to do something more exciting?”

“Um,”

Before Waverly has a chance to offer much of a response. Nicole has her slung over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Come with me.”

“Nicole, we talked about this. I’m not a toy.”

Nicole pats her on the ass affectionately and marches them both up the stairs. She sets Waverly down in one of the spare rooms. “Wait here,” she says and disappears.  

Waverly can almost follow Nicole with her mind stomping down the stairs, behind the living room, through the kitchen, and the click of the locked room. Some rustling around, then a click again, and back the way she came, feet vibrating the pictures on the walls as she ascends the stairs.

Without any explanation, Nicole thrusts a sledgehammer into Waverly’s hands. The weight of it yanks on Waverly’s already tired shoulders as she shifts it around. The handle length is too long for her, made for someone with baby lumberjack arms like Nicole, and the forged steel head makes the whole thing feel awkward to hold.

“What the frig do you want me to do with this?”

Nicole grins. The blueprints of a wild and maniacal plan coil around her almost alien-like dilated pupils.  She walks over to the wall and slaps her hands against it, as someone with much experience being arrested would do.

“Break it, sweetheart,” she says hands still up, glancing over her shoulder. No less crazy in her voice, than her behavior. “Smash it to the ground.”

“What? You’re crazy!”

Rolling her eyes, Nicole pushes off the wall launching herself into a backward skip and plants herself in front of Waverly. Waverly notices for the first time how she radiates chemical grape in the way daddy reeks of booze.

“Break it. Break it,” she chants, getting closer with every word.

“Stop! Weirdo.”

“It’s in me. Purple sunshine—it’s large and strong…and tasty, and it fills up every part of me. Like magic. I’m feeling great.”

“You’re lucky I know what you’re talking about. How many Monsters have you had?

“I don’t know…three maybe? Six? I don’t know anymore.” Nicole’s constant movements, whether it’s a tiny twitch of her eyelid or jittery tap of her toes makes it seem like it’s complete agony for her to just hold still. “I feel like I can barely see.”

“Okay, you need to calm down.”

“I can’t, Waverly. It’s too late. It’s in my veins, mixing with my blood like some kind of chaotic cocktail of happiness. If I hold still…Boom! I’ll explode.”

“Well, maybe you should go first then.” Waverly offers the sledgehammer against her better judgment, letting Nicole unleash the beast, but she has to admit, smashing a wall to smithereens does have a satisfying appeal.

Nicole takes the sledgehammer, lunging forward, she holds her arms back over her shoulder, then swings it into paper-mâché walls leaving a hole almost through and through.

“Boom,” she says.

“You’re cut off, Sugarbear.”

Nicole hands her the sledgehammer. “Your turn, tiny.”

“I am not that tiny!”

“Go boom, Waverly.”

Waverly does. They smash it until the wall between this room and Waverly’s old room is nothing but a pile of split two-by-fours and drywall dust.

“What now?”

“I didn’t really get that far in my plan.”

Waverly frowns at her white-painted blankets. “My bed is all dusty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Nicole says, then crazy lights up in her eyes again. “We could burn it.”

“Okay, no more Monster for you…you’re starting to turn into one.”

“Can we burn your books?”

“No!” Waverly says. “We’re not burning my stuff.”

“But we could.”

How Nicole makes something so juvenile, crazy even, seem so sexy, Waverly will never understand. But in a blink of an eye, she’s in the backyard standing around a bonfire fueled by Ann Rice and empty Monster cans, while Nicole is passed out on her face in the grass beside her.

***

Almost done, just finishing up the final touches, Waverly paints delicate strokes along the blue tape protected baseboards. A fine job she has done, she commends herself. Perfect crisps lines of powdery blue.  The heavy dusk of the room has been lifted to a beautiful cheery sunrise. Only one drop of paint blemishes hardwood in the corner by the window. It gives it character Nicole said. Not a single complaint came from that sassmouth. Surprising, but Waverly didn’t question a good thing.

Waverly stretches her legs from where they are folded underneath her and wedges her paintbrush between her teeth. They’ve been cramped up like that for too long, her knees are stiff and needles prickle through her toes. She stretches her back while she’s at it leaning her chest forward and gripping her ankles.

The sound of feet shuffling into the living room lifts her head. Nicole’s naked legs fill her vision. Silky black gym shorts hang at her knees and an oversized hoodie drowns her body; sleeves pushed up over her elbows. The new Nicole by Forever Slobby.

“I made dinner. It’s ravioli.” Nicole announces balancing a large dinner plate on one hand and a glass of milk in the other.

Waverly giggles, teeth still clenched around her paintbrush, and she mumbles out. “Pop Tarts aren’t ravioli.”

“They’re delicious like ravioli,” Nicole argues, setting the Pop Tarts and glass of milk on the coffee table, next to the giant bong that’s made a reappearance this week. Though Waverly hasn’t been present when it’s in use, she can smell the remains clinging to the air around the couch during book-time.

Nicole drops herself onto the couch and throws her feet up nearly taking out the glass of milk. Her face scrunches up in sudden disgust. “What is this horrid noise?”

“Love Shack?” Waverly says surprised at Nicole’s music illiteracy, and removes the paintbrush from her mouth only to bite the tip. “You know, the B52’s?”

Nicole laughs sarcastically feigning recognition. “Oh, the B52’s. I must have confused it with the sound of pterodactyls screaming.”

“What?”

 “Okay, take a seat,” Nicole says removing her feet from the table and patting the couch next to her.

Waverly pauses biting the end of the paintbrush, a half-laugh escapes. “I’m good here.”

“Alright,” Nicole shakes her head, leaning forward, she scratches the back of her calf around her stitches.

“Don’t pick.” Waverly scolds.

“Listen close, sweetheart. We do not…DO NOT under any circumstances play the B52’s in this house.”

Waverly tucks the paintbrush behind her ear chuckling. She folds her legs underneath herself again. “Why not?”

“How can I explain this? You see, the B52’s are…for lack of a better word, shit. They’re like playing Donnie Osmond or Cher. Just straight shit.”

“I like Donnie Osmond and Cher.”

Nicole’s jaw drops, “I need a Monster.”

“You’re going to damage your heart…or your brain.”

“You’re going to damage my ears with your shit music. If I can’t hear Led Zeppelin because of my damaged ears, then is there really any reason to live?”

Waverly slouches. “Well, I would hope that I might be a reason for you to live.”

Nicole’s face softens. “Of course, you are, sweetheart.”

“You know, you’re kind of dramatic for such a tough gal.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she says, then smiles.

Nicole leans back and whips her phone from the pocket of her gym shorts. Her finger swipes down the screen over and over while Waverly continues to stretch her tired muscles. Waverly startles when Nicole jolts upright eyes fixed on her phone and her mouth hanging open.

“Nicole?”

Nicole doesn’t say anything. The tension in her body and the way the color drains from her face leaving her only a ghost of herself gives Waverly chills. Waverly doesn’t wait. She rips Nicole’s phone from her hand dreading what bullshit game is coming next.  

The article open on Nicole’s phone is from The Purgatory Chronicle: Bunny Loblaw puts a new plan in motion.

Bunny Loblaw is to implement her first stage of attack on Johnathon Clootie’s gang activity in Purgatory this month. Loblaw states that she has enlisted the help of the Black Badge Division, a special US Marshals division, who have spent the last few years focusing on Clootie and his well-known cult, the Cult of Bulshar. BBD will begin their investigations with new funding coming out of the Theodore Roosevelt trust, set up to keep Purgatory and the surrounding areas safe. The investigations will start with a list of businesses believed to be connected to Clootie, and used to facilitate illegal activities, illicit trading of contraband, and money laundering.

Waverly drops her hands to her lap still clutching the phone. She studies Nicole. “Nicole?”

Nicole remains still and pale staring at the floor. Only a weak gasp escapes her. “Waverly, there is something I have to tell you…and you’re not going to like it.”

Chapter Text

Waverly’s Converse are damp from when she marched through a puddle outside the Purgatory Police Department, too focused on her destination to notice. They squeak down the hall toward the BBD office. 

She welcomes herself through the door ignoring the disproving glance Dolls gives her from across the room, where he and Doc are hunched over a file on the desk there. She continues to march straight through and to the back where Wynonna is sitting in her office. 

Waverly bursts through the closed door and kicks it shut behind her. Unphased by her little sister’s outburst, Wynonna lifts her gaze from the laptop she was busily typing on seconds before. “Baby girl,” she acknowledges. 

Waverly’s not here for niceties. She’s not here to reconcile whatever damage she created between them. She is here for one reason and one reason alone. “Bunny Loblaw is coming for Nicole and you’re going to help!” 

The laptop shuts with visible restraint, as Wynonna spares Waverly from her own outburst, masking the need to scream back with a sense of indifference in her voice. “Well, I see you’re not pregnant anymore.”  

“No I—I didn’t come here for that...that doesn’t matter right now...and it’s none of your business.” Waverly stammers, feeling the adrenaline flow through her at the familiarity in the situation. It wasn’t so long ago that Waverly was at the Homestead begging her sister for answers, and still she gave very few. What can Waverly expect of her now? “Now listen up, Wynonna! You and I both know Nicole’s name is on that list. You have to protect her. You’re the only one who can.”

Wynonna slouches back in her chair, hands clasped over her stomach as she eyes the whiskey sitting at the corner of her desk. More restraint, more patience, things Wynonna doesn’t have when she’s sober, but she doesn’t reach for the bottle. Her eyes instead flicker back to Waverly. “I am assuming she told you everything...about us?” 

There’s a calmness in her voice that has never been there before, something like relief. Neither she nor Nicole have to hide from her, because the truth is already bubbling under the surface waiting for Bunny Loblaw to sniff it out. The time for keeping secrets has passed and for once Waverly gets to know.

Waverly nods. Her knees begin to tremble as the weight of it all sets in, what Nicole is, what Wynonna is. How everything so devastatingly makes sense. It curls in her stomach like rotting milk thinking about what they’ve been through, how they were used and abused and nothing or know one could have stopped it. What’s worse is that people knew it was happening and they didn’t even try.

“I know this isn’t your fault, Wynonna, and I know you don’t like her, but please ,” she begs. “I—I care about her. Just help her, for me?” 

The softness Wynonna momentarily exhibited grows hard spiny edge as she lifts her elbows to the table and leans forward. All kinds of wild and feral shows in her eyes now. That must be something he put into them, Bulshar . Shackled them with so much fear and uncertainty they needed rough hard shells to survive. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

Waverly releases a held breath, afraid the distance between them garbled her words, she takes a step forward to hear them again. “What?”

Wynonna doesn’t repeat herself. With no explanation she fishes out a key from the inside pocket to her leather jacket and inserts it into the top drawer of her desk. Inside she slips out a crisp sheet of paper with the official Black Badge embossment on the corner and headed with: Black Badge Division, City of Purgatory, Warrant for Arrest. Carefully, she slides it across the desk with an unreadable expression, and taps it with her fingers, “See for yourself, baby girl.”

Waverly lifts it gingerly with trembling hands, eyes scanning a million miles per hour. She sees several notable names, but not Nicole’s. 

Her eyes lift from the document to Wynonna slouched back in her chair again. She had managed to swipe the whiskey from the corner of the desk undetected, sipping at it straight from the bottle.

“She’s not on it?” Waverly says.

“No, she never was.” She sets the bottle down and scoots it back across the table as if that’s her method of self-control. Waverly knows better to think distance will keep Wynonna from her liquor. “BBD has had their suspicions, but I know the truth. I know that Nicole never had an inkling of a choice. Bulshar let her go for a price, but complete emancipation was never a part of that agreement. This is just a fact of life for us all. None of us have a choice and I protect every one of them the best I can.”

“All?” 

“ All his children .” Wynonna says, and the words roll down Waverly’s back like balls in a pachinko machine, violently bouncing off the knots of her spine. He marks all his children Nicole had said. Each one of them branded with the same little symbol. How could they ever be free living and breathing with that carved and inked into their skin, reminding them where they came from?

“Not everyone who is associated with the cult is a criminal by choice. He has collateral on every one of us and he has made it damn clear he intends to use it. I am lucky because I have BBD’s protection, but it’s not fair that Nicole and some of the others will only be viewed as cult members and they will be treated as such. I could never let that happen to Nicole.” 

“Not saying I’m not relieved and grateful, but why?” 

“We were friends once. More than friends. Family.” 

“Right,” Waverly nods, remembering Nicole explaining how they were playing in the woods that day they met Raymond. They were just kids messing around, victims of circumstance, taken from a life of normality to become some kind of child army.   

“Anyway, one day I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch and this will all be over.” Wynonna says, eyes relaxing into the distance as she settles further back against her chair. 

It’s silent and Waverly senses Wynonna’s done with the subject, that she’s given all she’s willing to give. Nicole is protected; she's not on the list. That’s what Waverly came for. Waverly sighs in relief as she glances over the list for visual confirmation one more time, but her heart thumps and something jabs into her chest. One name stands out to her. Randy Nedley .

Her eyes dart to Wynonna, mouth opening to speak. Nedley knew, Waverly already knew that much. Nicole said he did what he could to help them, but his power was limited. It must be a mistake. Guilty by associations?

As if Wynonna can read her mind, she raises her hand, “Go home, Waverly. Story time’s over.” 

Waverly nods knowing better than to push her luck. The paper flutters back to the desk and she turns to the door with hope, knowing that Nicole’s going to be okay and Wynonna is too. She pauses with her hand resting on the doorknob, glancing over her shoulder as another thought crosses her mind. One that she’s curious about. 

“Guess what, Uncle Julian is my father.” she says. It seems a little out of place given the previous conversation, but she doesn’t know when she’ll talk to Wynonna again after this with the launch of Bunny’s new witch hunt. 

Wynonna’s eyes stay off in the distance but a smile twitches at her lips. “You’re figuring out all kinds of things, aren’t you, baby girl?” 

“You knew ?” 

“Well, not exactly.” she snorts. “Your name is Waverly Juliette Earp. Seems like a telltale sign to me.”

Waverly frowns in frustration. Is she the only one who didn’t know? The only one so oblivious to her own father? 

“Why are you worrying about this right now? Just let it go. Go home to Nicole.”

“Okay,” Waverly nods. “Thank you, Wynonna.” She smiles and exits the door. 

***

The single porch light flickers as Waverly pulls into the driveway, giving the illusion of a candle lit lantern. She parks the Jeep and locks it. After traversing down the walkway, through the bushes of lavender adorning either side, she opens the door to the porch.

Nicole has her pocket knife sawing into the cigarette splitting it down the middle. Little tobacco crumbs sprinkle around the base and all over the arm of her chair. Her eyes dart up when Waverly enters through the door and the knife slips, slicing into her finger. “Shit,” she hisses erupting from her chair. 

Nicole doesn’t acknowledge Waverly, as she pushes her way through the front door and marches toward the kitchen. The screen nearly smacks Waverly in the face as it snaps back from Nicole’s grip.

“Nicole? Are you okay?” Waverly calls following her path through the house.

“You left!” Nicole shouts stomping into the kitchen. She yanks open a drawer, rifles through the junk it contains, and fishes out a roll of first aid tape. Her hands tremble as she fumbles with the tape to peel back the end. A slow line of red trails down her finger, clinging to her arm, and it makes its path to the point of her elbow before it splats on the counter. 

“You should wash that first.” Waverly says, feeling a little helpless. The energy radiating off Nicole holds her back like a forcefield. She wasn’t expecting to come home to this. She planned to come home and tell Nicole the good news, that she’s not on the list and BBD and Bunny aren’t coming for her. Everything is going to be okay.

Nicole rolls her eyes but turns on the faucet, holding the tape between her teeth as she sticks her hand under the water. Red tinge swirls the sink and into the drain. Waverly reaches for Nicole, longing to comfort her, wanting to be the one to nurture, but Nicole jerks away.

“Nicole, let me help you.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Waverly. I just didn’t tell you because I was afraid it would change how you see me.” She says muffled through the tape before she removes it from between her teeth. “I was afraid you would leave me, and you did.”

Nicole seemed so scared pacing the living room with her hands in her hair as she spilled out the truth. “I’m sorry,” she’d said, over and over . Waverly was silent, speechless. All those tiny moments of fear where she thought she might be married to the mob, turned out to be a little true, but Nicole was telling her everything.

“I didn’t choose this,” Nicole had insisted. Her words were all mixed up, it was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle as Nicole carved out the pieces and threw them to the floor. It was surreal. Nicole is still in the cult. No... Nicole is a hostage. She didn’t choose this. “The alternative is worse,” she had pleaded with Waverly .

 All Waverly knew was Nicole was in danger. She grabbed her keys and bolted for the door without explanation. It was for Nicole’s own good. Waverly would die if anything happened to her. Nicole could just—

“Are you listening to me?”

“I didn’t leave you . I went to Wynonna, for help.”

Nicole laughs and it’s cold and empty. “Yeah, well maybe lead with that before taking off after I tell you something like this, Waverly.” 

Waverly was so shocked and panicked she didn’t think about it, she’d gone into fight or flight mode, a possible solution already in mind.  

Peeling back a long strip of tape from the roll, Nicole rips it apart with her teeth, but struggles to wrap it around her finger. With caution, Waverly approaches again. This time, with a heavy sigh, Nicole lets Waverly take her hand. The cut is small but deep and it continues to swell with blood. Waverly carefully wraps the tape Nicole had ripped around it, gently smoothing the adhesive with her thumb, then Nicole jerks her arm away again.

A fire scorches through Waverly’s lungs, not even a fire, a pitiful little flame of poor decisions, painfully licks up her throat singing it dry, she can hardly speak or swallow. She broke Nicole. Nicole, who's usually her rock, who’s rational and strong, and takes care of her, now sagging against the counter with tears in her eyes. Waverly broke Nicole, when all she wanted to do was save her.

“You know, I’m comfortable being alone. I’m capable of dealing with this on my own, but I don’t want to be alone. I just don’t want anyone to know me. I don’t want anyone to know this part of me—everything that I’ve done. I don’t want anyone to know the real me, because it hurts to be me sometimes.”

“You’re not alone, Nicole.” Waverly says, her voice dry and raspy. She clears her throat and swallows, but it doesn’t help. “I’m here and Wynonna’s here.”

“You didn’t need to involve the narc. I don’t need any favors from her.”

“She understands what you are going through, you know she does. She doesn’t have a choice either, but she has the power to help.”

Nicole rolls her eyes as she yanks open the cabinet and withdraws her fancy crystal and the bottle of Jameson.  She fills her glass halfway and swallows the entire contents before she refills it. Her eyes are cold and feral, like Wynonna’s when she’s scared or hurting. Waverly forgets how alike they can be, and it all makes sense now.

The pain they both carry around with them, branded into their skin, marking them with a scar bone-deep, brings out the worst in them— the drinking, the promiscuity, the sarcasm, and all the secrets. The strength they must possess not to succumb to him, to keep fighting, to keep living a semi-normal life.

“Don’t think of it as a favor...just think of it as...she’s doing it for me, because I need you to be safe.”

“My grandpa was in the air force, Vietnam. He used to be proud of me. I was a good kid. He taught me to be patient, honest, loyal…he taught me to be good. He thought I would grow up to help others. I thought I’d be a cop.” She snorts and swallows her whiskey and fills it for the third time. “But then I had to be someone else, I had to pretend to be this …I had to be the complete opposite, and you know? I think it broke his heart a little more every time I was arrested, but he still never gave up on me. He was certain that the child he raised was still in here somewhere,” she says patting her chest with her free hand.

“It’s not fair because I didn’t have much of a choice— work for him doing the same shit over and over or let him use my business. We don’t ask questions. We just pick up the deliveries. I can’t tell his guys from my customers. This is me doing everything I can to be the person I was supposed to be. It’s me trying to make him proud and prove that I am not just some fuck up kid that no one wanted.” Nicole's eyes dart away and out the window, done talking like Waverly’s not there.

Waverly struggles to find the words, to comfort Nicole, feeling like she won’t say the right thing. Feeling like what she says won’t be good enough for Nicole when she’s hurting, because Waverly can tell how much she’s hurting. “Nicole, you’re not bad,” she says. “and you’re not unwanted.”

Waverly smiles, it’s a little shaky, but she keeps taking cautious steps toward Nicole, afraid she’ll shy away or leave all together. She reaches a hand up to caress Nicole’s cheek. Nicole winces but Waverly doesn’t scare away. She brushes her thumb up a tear track and stops another from falling. The tension in Nicole’s body starts to release. Her shoulders relax, her jaw unclenches, her attention comes back to Waverly. What Waverly says will never be enough, but all she can do is try her best to be here for Nicole the way Nicole has been here for her. 

“You know, a very patient, honest, loyal, and good person once said to me: sweetheart, you’re only human.” The faintest smile spreads across Nicole’s face and it’s relieving. Waverly’s not good with words and these ones aren’t her own, but to make Nicole smile or even feel remotely better, or safer, Waverly will try anything. “Shit happens, right?”

Nicole laughs and envelopes Waverly into a hug, relaxing against her so heavily the weight threatens to tip her over. “I like who I am when I am with you, Waverly, but I want you to know all of me. You’re the only person I trust to know all of me.”

Waverly tightens into Nicole burying her face in Nicole’s neck, breathing in vanilla,  and exhaling relief. Nicole is strong. Stronger than Waverly and Waverly hopes to god she can be strong enough for her. 

***

“What about this?” Waverly asks, holding the magazine out to Nicole. “The Kinky Jockey?”

Nicole peers up at it from her book and laughs, “I don’t know how that could remotely be satisfying to either of us.”

“It could be fun.” Waverly shrugs.

“Sweetheart, I am not sure the person who wrote that understands female anatomy. That’s not gonna work for me.”

Waverly makes a face at Nicole as she returns to her book, The Illustrated Man . She settles back against the couch shifting under the weight of Nicole’s legs stretched out over her lap and uses Nicole’s knees as a table rest while she continues to read her Cosmo, licking the tip of her finger before turning the page. 

Things have been good between them, as if nothing changed, as if Waverly didn’t just find out her wife is being actively used by a cult. She breathes out that sigh of relief every night when she gets to fall asleep in Nicole’s arms. A place that has become one of the safest places she can think of. 

But there’s something else. Waverly can’t help it, the new fear that plagues her mind, which fortunately has nothing to do with a sadistic Purgatory crime boss. This fear is all Chrissy’s fault. Chrissy brought up the concept of lesbian bed death, and now Waverly’s paranoid that Nicole will become bored with their sex life. It’s irrational, she knows. Nicole hasn’t shown any signs of lost interest and their morning shower routine seems to be at an all-time high. Still, there’s a nagging point of doubt, not just in Nicole. 

She’s been bored in relationships before, and as unbelievable as it sounds, what if she gets bored with Nicole? How many times can they have sex in that shower before it becomes mundane?

“What about this?”

Nicole sighs closing her book and sets it on the coffee table. She lifts her legs from Waverly’s lap and drags her in between them so that Waverly’s back rests against her chest. “Lemme see.”

Waverly smiles. It was clear the other night, all the fear in Nicole’s eyes, the worry that Waverly would leave her or only see a criminal, and maybe that was true once, but Waverly sees Nicole now. She knows her and she can feel all the goodness in Nicole’s heart beating against her back mingling with her own rhythm, a rhythm Nicole often controls. Waverly struggles to say these things, to get out the words, but her heart has never been silent and it’s always reminding Waverly of what Nicole does to her. 

Nicole’s arms curl around Waverly’s waist, and the sharp point of her chin nestles affectionately in the crook of Waverly’s neck. Settling more comfortably against her, Waverly spreads out the Cosmo for them both to see, propping it up on her knees. She taps her finger on another picture. The Rocket.

Nicole chuckles. “We just did that a few days ago—” she takes her fingers to her lips in a chef’s kiss, “and it was pretty good.”

“Yeah, but what if this time I go there, and you do that?”

“Yeah?” Nicole says, tightening her arms. 

Waverly grins at the enthusiasm in Nicole’s voice and nods yes as she leans into the soft warmth of Nicole’s lips against her cheek. “Now?”

Nicole chuckles as Waverly turns in her arms, she leans in for a kiss, but the startling chime of the door bell separates them. Waverly settles on her heels and Nicole shimmies out from under her. 

“Not again,” Nicole whines. “I’ll get it.”

Waverly refocuses on her Cosmo to determine what else she could talk Nicole into trying. For the most part Waverly has found Nicole to be game for almost anything, but she has turned down several suggestions from Cosmo. Waverly’s convinced the only reason is because the suggestions came from Cosmo. Maybe she should wait and ask later when she isn’t holding it in her hands. Nicole might be more open to trying the Olympic Gymnast if it came from Waverly’s imagination.

“There is a no soliciting sign right—mom?”

Waverly whips around peering over the back of the couch. She can’t see clearly through Nicole’s tall body. Only a glimpse of tight red ringlets bouncing at shoulder length. 

“Surprise!” A woman’s voice screams excitedly, and she pushes past Nicole into the foyer as she drags her shoes across the inside door mat. At least she has manners. “Nicky, how are you?”

Nicole scans her mother up and down with a look of offense manifesting all over her face. “There’s a Motel 6 off third and Maine,” she says, voice absent of emotion. 

“Ha-ha.” Nicole’s mom says, shutting the door and kicking off her shoes next to the Converse and the Tim’s. She heaves her duffle bag over Nicole’s shoulder and drops another at her feet. “You know that place gives me the heebie-jeebies.” She shivers her shoulders in exaggeration. “Infested with fleas.” 

Waverly pivots more on the couch, adjusting to her knees. Her head barely pops up over the back resembling a meerkat. The magazine slips into the cushion cracks with Nicole’s eight-hundred year old licorice and runaway Skittles. Nicole’s mom doesn’t look anything like how Waverly imagined her. Admittedly she hasn’t spent a lot of time thinking about her. Nicole has shared very little for her to ponder. Waverly just pictured someone... taller . This woman is barely 5’3. 

Finally getting some small people around here.  

“So, how’ve you been?” Nicole’s mother chirps with a falsy-affectionate slap to Nicole’s arm. She tucks her hands in the front pockets of her denim jacket, rocking on her heels, and smiles expectantly. 

Nicole radiates disgust as she tries to juggle her mother’s luggage. The duffle bag on her shoulder shifts, drooping her to one side and it threatens to fall when she reaches for the other. Her mother observes as a bird might a worm, cocking her head from side to side at Nicole’s struggle, but offers no assistance.

“Just put them in my room, Nicky,” she waves it off.

“You don’t have a room here anymore. All the rooms are our rooms.” Nicole grunts.

“ Our rooms?”

“Yeah, hello? My wife and I?”

“Oh, that’s right…,” she says dismissively.

Nicole finally manages to get the bags under control and nods to Waverly observing from the couch. “My wife, Waverly,” she introduces, then sighs. “Waverly, this is my mom. Diane.”

“Hey,” Waverly says self-consciously. 

Nicole’s mom carries a similar rebellious presence, absent of leather, rigged out in a denim jean jacket and acid washed jeans, it’s like a denim pantsuit. Curls instead of messy waves, but equally red like the darkest part of a sunset. 

Diane merely huffs as she gives Waverly a once over. “She’s smaller than the last one…younger too.”

“Why are you here?” Nicole demands. 

Diane laughs and brushes past her, proceeding into the living room. Her eyes roam through the room looking everywhere but at Waverly. She drags her fingers along the mantle pausing to examine Waverly’s angel wings and tickles her fingers through the strand of twinkling lights. Her head tilts back. She gazes over the freshly painted blue wall and at the light fixture Nicole made mounted to the center of the ceiling.

“I’m just checking on my house. Seeing what condition you’ve left it in.” She continues her investigation to the back wall of the living room and nearly presses her nose against the giant floor to ceiling windows. She clicks her teeth glancing outside. “Always leaving your tools around, just like dad used to do.”

Nicole shrugs off the duffle bags with a mixture of defeat and displeasure, and they thud to the floor. “This is my house and I can leave my tools where I please,” she says stomping across the living room. 

Nicole’s mom turns from the window and chuckles. “Boy, you are argumentative, aren’t you? You’re a smartass like him too.” She drags her fingers across the windows on her way to the kitchen. Waverly winces. I just cleaned those. “You’re forgetting one thing though Nicky, you haven’t bought this house yet. Until then, it’s mine.”

Nicole chases Diane into the kitchen cutting her off at the entryway. She braces herself against the wall and the column as if she’s protecting the room in some way. “Why do you even care? You don’t like this house.”

“I know, that’s why I want to sell it, and you should just let me. This is all very unhealthy, you staying here, obsessing over it, isolating yourself. You lost a steal of a wife for this house.” Diane says, and pushes Nicole aside. Nicole slams the heel of her hand into the column and growls as she whips around.

Waverly makes out the sound of cabinets opening and the rifling through drawers. She can just barely glimpse through the window-like opening into the kitchen and notices everything Diane opens is left that way. “You got anything to eat around here?” 

Waverly sinks to her heels, frozen and blinking. This is awkward. She should sneak away and hide upstairs until this is over instead of being a weirdo eavesdropping on Nicole’s family reunion. She doesn’t move. They could have forgotten she is here and if she stands up she’ll draw attention herself. That would be more awkward. 

“Shae wanted to leave me too, not just the house.”

Her ears perk up. Waverly knows very little about Shae too. Only that she’s a stupidly sexy doctor with beautiful long legs and definitely still has the hots for her ex-wife. Yeah. Waverly will just stay. 

“Probably because you loved the damn thing more than you loved her.” Diane continues storming through the kitchen until she finds Waverly’s snacks. “Ah!” she says. Waverly sinks further when she catches sight of the flashy green and orange bag and Diane tearing into her vegan sticks, shoveling them into her mouth. “Who chooses a house over—”

“That’s not what happened!” Nicole interrupts.

“I’m just telling you what I see and what I see is an overly sentimental little girl giving up a perfect relationship for a crusty rundown dump of a house. You could have had it made with her. A doctor, Nicky?”

Just keep rubbing in the doctor thing! 

“I’m not like you, mom. I don’t need someone to take care of me. I can make my own way and I have . I don’t need someone else to feed me, clothe me, and get me high to be happy. I have plenty of money to take care of myself.”

“Yeah?” Diane says jabbing a vegan stick at Nicole. “Then where is the money to buy this stupid old house?”

“Up your ass.”

“Okay,” Waverly says, forcing herself out of her awkwardness, and leaping off the couch and hustling into the kitchen. This doesn’t seem productive and if Waverly has learned one thing about family, it’s how they know just the right buttons to stab you in the heart with. “How about some tea?”

Diane drags her eyes from Nicole to focus on Waverly. She blinks like she forgot Wavely existed and is confused by her presence.  She sets the vegan sticks down on the counter and snorts. “Well she’s cute, I’ll give you that Nicky. What does she do?”

“She makes me happy.” Nicole snaps. “And don’t talk about her like she’s not standing right there.” 

“Huh?” Diane nods looking Waverly over again, her eyes burning all over Waverly’s skin, dedicated like she’s memorizing every detail. Waverly regrets not hiding upstairs now. “Interesting. She doesn’t look your type. How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Um, my birthday is in two weeks. I’ll be twenty-four.” Waverly says suddenly embarrassed and feeling oh-so-babyish in her response. It doesn’t help that she feels so damn small all the time, even next to short Diane with her dominant-as-fuck personality. She has the same power to dominate a room and suck the life out of it as Nicole. Waverly feels the life being sucked out of her now.

Diane bursts into laughter nearly buckling over. Her mouth is so big when she laughs, like a black hole sucking in every part of Waverly’s existence until she is nothing, worthless, paper thin or a ghost. 

“She’s adorable. Where’d you find her? Chuck-E Cheese? The mall?”

“Mom, stop it!” Nicole demands. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“You know I’m just teasing her, Nicky.” She nods to Waverly holding out her hand coolly, finely acknowledging her as human. “Diane. Nice to meet you.” 

Waverly takes it with mild reluctance, half expecting Diane to rip it away and say, sike! “You too.”

“Anyway…” she trails off. “Cheerio.” 

With a brow arched she gives Waverly an antagonizing stare as she meanders out of the kitchen. Nicole and Waverly stand in a silence only broken by Diane’s footsteps banging up the stairs. 

“So, your mom’s here.” Waverly says for lack of anything better to say. 

“Yeah.” Nicole shrugs. “Which isn’t good.”

“She seems...nice?”  

***

The motion of Nicole’s hips rattles the counter, toppling over stacks of paper cups, splaying out sugar packets, surrounding them in pink, blue, and yellow. A frothing pitcher flies to the ground with a deafening clatter, followed by a small cup of dirty silverware, but Waverly doesn’t care. Not with Nicole’s belt buckle pressing roughly into her tummy and Nicole lavishing her in sloppy, open mouth kisses, drawing whimpers from Waverly’s lips. 

Hot skin presses against Waverly’s fingertips as she brushes her hands under Nicole’s police uniform, teasing over her chest, and the flexing muscles of her abs. Every brush of skin sends a wave of arousal to her core, because fuck, her wife is hot and in her arms, inviting her to worship every part of her body. And she wants to. It takes all her strength not to tear into Nicole’s belt buckle and reveal the sexiness underneath. Those three little buttons neatly sewn to the front of Nicole’s Tomboy boxer briefs, always teasing. Waverly would like to tear into those too. 

The uniform holds her back. Something about Nicole, queen of leather and ripped jeans, the rebellious and wild, tamed in blue and khaki, fucking her right here at Eden’s, sends Waverly into a desperate state of corruption. At just the thought of Nicole’s handcuffs hanging from her belt Waverly can feel the lust trembling in her hips and she thrusts them forward to remind Nicole why they’re here. Maybe Waverly can be a little rebellious and wild too, and maybe she wants Nicole to do something about it.   

Their lips come together in a kiss that's long and satisfying, as Waverly’s legs tighten around Nicole’s hips, rolling her own up against the front of Nicole’s khakis some more. Jesus, Nicole smells and tastes so good, like warm vanilla dipped donuts mixing in the air around them, the sweetness fills her lungs and mouth. Vanilla excites her every taste bud as their tongues roll together. Who knew a kiss could taste so good?

Waverly marvels at the consequences of Gus discovering her naked ass on this stainless steel counter, legs spread open to give herself fully to Nicole. The fear of punishment, the sheer naughtiness of it is almost enough to get her off right now. But she wants more, she needs more, she needs Nicole, who chooses to move at a torturously slow pace, threatening to make Waverly scream from one thing or another. And yet, the hand wedged between their bodies and the way her stomach twitches from the fingers trailing below her belly button, arouses her full attention. Licking her lips at the anticipation, and the teasing she must endure, she slips her hands out from under Nicole’s uniform, denying Nicole any more contact until she gets what she wants.

“So needy,” Nicole husks. Satisfaction overflows her eyes, now darker in appearance, at how deeply her words affect Waverly. Waverly, whose lips part and tremble begging to lose herself in Nicole’s touch. Nicole hooks her finger under Waverly’s chin, tilting it up, and Waverly drowns in the rich chocolaty brown of Nicole’s irises. “What am I going to do with you?”   

Waverly whines, fighting to keep it going, to keep Nicole going, but she knows she is dreaming, and now she’s waking up. Disappointed by the fact that this fantasy will never reach fruition, she soothes herself knowing there will be another, and she loves every one of them, because Nicole will let her do whatever she wants in a dream. 

In her slumber Waverly has put them in a lot of porn inspired situations, most of them she’s sure would only be successful in her mind. She recognizes that some of them are weird...at least she does once she wakes up. Like that thing with the pool noodle or the ketchup bottle. She’ll never look at Heinz the same way, but whatever, everything’s fair game until she opens her eyes.

The door to the bathroom shuts. Waverly’s eyes flutter open and her dream whirls out of existence leaving her with a nagging need between her legs. She smiles lazily. Nothing a quick shower with Nicole won’t fix. Waverly wiggles out of bed, drops her shorts, and sheds her t-shirt on her way down the hall leaving it carelessly in the doorway.

She cracks up the door expecting to see Nicole, equally naked, turning on the shower faucet, getting everything warm and ready for them. Unfortunately that’s not what she sees…at all.

“There’s something wrong with the downstairs bathroom.” Diane says, naked and unphased.

 “I know,” Waverly breathes, mortified. Then shuts the door. Waverly scoops up her t-shirt and shorts and slips them on as she stumbles down the stairs. “Nicole?”

Waverly finds Nicole leaned up against the counter already dressed and guzzling down a Monster. “Sweetheart?” she says with little concern and tilts her head back to polish off the grape sludge. 

“Nicole! Your mother’s naked in our bathroom.”

Nicole’s eyes grow wide as she chokes and she turns to the sink, bracing herself with her hands wrapped around the counter, hacking and gasping for air. Monster dribbles down her chin and splatters into the sink. Silently gazing into the sink, she holds up her pointer finger. Her throat makes a wet rattling sound when she clears it and she runs her hand down her chin. She turns around and some of the initial agitation dissolves from her face. “First of all sweetheart, don’t tell me anything about my mother naked. I can’t unsee things.”

“Well, me neither,” Waverly says. 

“She’s not your mother. And second, it’s a bathroom. People get naked in there sometimes.”

“Okay, why doesn’t she just lock the door then, so people don’t walk in expecting to see their super sexy wife?”

Nicole laughs. “That door doesn’t lock.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“It looks like it locks when you twist the thing.”

“It doesn’t. You are the least observant person I have ever met. I’m surprised you even noticed my mother was naked.”

“Don’t make fun of me, I'm disturbed.”

“Clearly,” Nicole rips the tab of her Monster off and drops it in the can before throwing the can in the trash. “Listen sweetheart, I have to run a few errands.”

Waverly burns a hole through the cabinet and into the trash can with her eyes. “Nicole, recycling?”

Rolling her eyes, Nicole takes the can out of the trash and tosses it into the recycling bin by the back door. “Happy?”

Waverly shrugs apathetically. “What kind of errands? For him?”

 “Nuh-uh,” she says wagging her finger. “We’re not going to do this.”

“Do what?” 

“I don’t need the third degree every time I have to work or run an errand. I told you I don’t know what deliveries are his…and no, this is not that kind of errand. I need some supplies from the hardware store.”

“ Oh. For the locked room?” Waverly says, eyeing the door, with the hope of sudden x-ray vision, and whines. “Are you ever going to show me what’s in there?”

“Yes,” Nicole says, “and maybe.” 

She grabs her keys off the counter and crosses the kitchen to kiss Waverly. Cupping Waverly’s jaw in her hand, her tongue darts out to Waverly’s lips and Waverly immediately parts them, allowing Nicole’s tongue to seek out her own. Not the kind of kiss she expected, but she swears she tastes vanilla as the memory of her dream bleeds into reality. 

Waverly hooks her fingers into Nicole’s belt loops, forbidding her from leaving, and guides them back to the counter until it’s pressed into Waverly’s lower back. They could do this here and now on this counter top since the bathroom is unexpectedly ocupado. The kitchen is theirs to do whatever the fuck they want in after all, and right now Waverly wants to do Nicole. Nicole lifts Waverly’s hips and settles her on the counter and Waverly wraps her legs around Nicole’s waist, holding their bodies together. It appears Waverly isn’t the only one being affected by their missed opportunity in the shower.

“Do you have any chips?” 

Nicole jolts back, breaking free of Waverly’s grip as Diane strolls into the kitchen. Nude. 

“Oh my god,” Nicole groans. “I absolutely have to go.”

Nicole slaps her hand over her eyes, blindly making her way past her mother, and she smacks her head on the column separating the kitchen from the living room on her way out. 

“Are you okay?” Waverly asks. 

“Nope.” And she keeps going. A thick cloud of vanilla trails behind her.

“Bring back some chips!” Diane yells behind her. She crosses the kitchen and opens the tiny door to the laundry room. “The fuck is the washer and dryer doing in the pantry?”

“That’s not a pantry. That’s the laundry room.”

“Well, it used to be the pantry. That’s why its door is so small.” 

Waverly nods. “That actually makes a lot of sense.” 

Diane spins on her heels and anchors her attention on the locked room. “What the hell is in the laundry room then?” She reaches for the doorknob and shakes it. “The fuck is this locked for?”