I wake up Monday morning with a wide grin as I immediately recall what happened last night. As first kisses go, the one Alex and I shared was the best I've ever had. I didn't think it would lead to sex, but I'm not complaining. There's no question our chemistry and is off the charts, so it shouldn't be surprising that we couldn't wait to touch each other intimately. I am, however, a little embarrassed that we did it in someone else's bedroom. Technically, no one lives in the house right now, but still. This encounter will go with me to my grave.

As I take a shower, I examine how vastly different sex with a woman is versus sex with a man. They're so lumpy and hard and rough. I don't mean rough as in throwing me around in bed, but rough as in their five o'clock shadow, hairy arms and legs and the texture of their skin. Alex was smooth and soft and supple. I'm guessing sex with her could be a pounding, thrusting, demanding experience, but it will never be the same as it is with a man, pumping his dick inside me. I've always felt a loss of control when I've had sex with men—like they're the ones who get to do the fucking simply because of their anatomy.

I get out of the shower and notice a text from Alex, which makes me smile. There's a photo of the sunrise from what I assume is her balcony, and she wrote, thinking of you. I hold the phone to my chest and sigh. I'm not generally a swooner. I've gradually fallen in love with two guys, but it never hit me the way being with Alex has. I'm not suggesting we're falling in love yet—that would be preposterous.

I love a good sunrise, I write back.

The three dots jiggle on my phone, indicating she's responding. Want to experience one together tomorrow?

Is she inviting me to sleep at her place tonight? Swooning is definitely what I'm doing.

Yes, I reply.

Good, she types. I have your clothes that I borrowed the other night; no need to pack a bag.

I'd forgotten that she wore my clothes that night at my house.

She finishes the text with Talk later, but let's plan on 6 p.m.

I allow myself a few more minutes of basking in the glow of what seems to be a quickly budding relationship, and then I have to concentrate on work.

As Mondays go, this one is far busier than usual. I have to finish the second offer I'd hoped to write last night, and I have almost 50 e-mails to respond to. Additionally, I have to review five offers that came in on two condos I'm representing—one in Capitol Hill, the other in downtown Bellevue. Alex calls in the middle of a meeting, but I answer for purely business reasons.

"Hi," I say through a smile I simply can't hide. I duck the receiver away from my mouth as I stand. "Will you excuse me? This will only take a minute."

The couple in my office nods. I would imagine they're not too upset that I'm taking this call since they're about to make $40,000 over asking price on their Central District home.

"Are you busy?" Alex asks.

"Yeah, in a meeting actually." I'd rather keep her on the phone for an hour but my professionalism wins. "Are you calling about the Kerry Park place?"

I picture her nodding. "You were right—Natalie Figueroa put in the same offer as you, but since you have right of first refusal, I'm calling to see how you want to proceed."

Although I hoped it wouldn't come to this, I'm willing to fork over part of my commission to close the deal. "I'll pay closing costs."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I sigh even though I know this is the right decision. "Call me after you take this to your clients."

"Will do, bye."

I return to my office and continue meeting with the Jacobsons, hopeful it'll take my mind off of Alex's lucrative listing.

Before I know it, it's just after 4 o'clock.

I get up and stretch, realizing I worked right through lunch. My stomach growls as if I needed a reminder. Just as I'm about to head to the office kitchen in hopes of finding one of my emergency frozen Healthy Choice meals, my cell rings.

"Hi," I smile into the phone.

"You might want to pick up some Champagne on your way over tonight," Alex responds through what sounds like a smile of her own.

My eyes widen. "We got the house?"

"Congratulations," she says through a light laugh.

"I can't believe it!" I run my fingers through my hair and begin to pace.

"Who knew the Goldman's letter would sway my clients?" she responds. "I mean, the fact that you agreed to cover closing costs sealed the deal, but they were inspired by the letter and how similar their families are. Nice touch."

"I just…" It's hard for me to think straight with this great news, but I suddenly realize what this means: I beat Fig. It's the first time I will have won a house that we were both competing for. She's going to be livid.

"Figueroa should've taken a page from your book. Her offer came in first, but she didn't include a clause about right of first refusal nor did she state she'd be willing to cover closing costs," Alex continues. "We also had three other offers; none were as competitive as yours."

"I can't believe it." I repeat, shaking my head. "You just made my day."

She lowers her voice. "I hope I can make your night."

That causes my cheeks to redden. "I'm sure you can."

"I'm going to draw up the formal acceptance in the next hour." She switches back to work mode. "It should be in your Inbox by 5:15."

"Perfect," I respond. "Thank you so much, Alex."

"My pleasure." Before hanging up she says, "Oh, I forgot to ask—do you like sushi?"

"Love it."

"Good."

With that, we bid our farewells and I immediately relay the news to the Goldmans. They're just as thrilled as I am. Next, I walk over to Gordon Shadwick's office and tell him about the deal. He's not as warm as Mr. Bloom, but he's impressed nonetheless.

"Do you want to tell Fig about this or shall I?" he asks with a knowing grin.

I contemplate that for a moment. "You know what? Let her find out on her own." I'm not sure if I'm taking the high road or if I just want to act all nonchalant about it, showing her it's not that important to me to beat her. I'm just doing my job, I'll say. Yes, that's how I'll proceed.

"Congratulations, Piper," Mr. Shadwick says.

"Thank you." I walk out feeling great.

Not only do I get the satisfaction of beating Fig, but this sale will put me over the top of revenue this month for the first time ever. That comes with a cash bonus that will make up for some of the money I'll have to fork over from my commission to cover closing costs. While I appreciate the money I've earned this week, nothing trumps the fact that I'm the top agent at my firm. I couldn't be happier.

I'm not sure if I've ever whistled while I worked, but that happens to be the case this afternoon even as it creeps closer to quitting time. I shut off my laptop, grab a couple of files, and then head out with excitement about seeing Alex in half an hour.

"You bitch!"

I look up to see Fig rushing down the hallway towards me.

"How could you?"

This is going to be fun. "How could I what?"

"You knew what I was going to bid on the Kerry Park property and you went behind my back to beat it!" she spits out.

"Is that what we're calling it now—going behind someone's back?" I begin. "We've never consulted before turning in an offer, Fig. What makes you think that would've happened in this case?"

"How'd you do it?" She crosses her arms. "How'd you sweet talk your way into this one?"

"I didn't sweet talk my way into anything." I shrug. "My clients agreed to cover closing costs, and our bid was selected. Simple as that." I turn around more to hide my grin than to grab my bag, but at least I have a valid excuse for not letting her see me gloat.

"You're a conniving bitch is what you are."

I strap my bag over a shoulder take a deep breath to remind myself to stay calm, then walk up to her, head held high. "I'm also the top sales agent for our firm this month. In fact, this transaction might've put me over the top for all agents in our region."

"Fuck you, Piper!" She spins around, heading in the opposite direction.

"Have a good night, Fig!" I wave even though she can't see me, grin firmly in place.

Little does Alex know how inadvertently happy she's made me. Now, on to her condo so she can make me happy in an entirely different way.

I knock on her door just after six o'clock, and she's quick to answer.

"Hey." She stands in the doorway in jeans and a loose-fitting sweater with fall-colored block prints. "Perfect timing."

"Why's that?" I step inside, but she doesn't back up.

"I just got home and changed." Her head dips down and our lips meet.

God, this woman can kiss. I wrap my arms around her waist as hers glide around my shoulders. One hand snakes in my hair as she angles her head, and I run my tongue against her lips hoping she understands how much I want this.

We manage to make it inside enough for Alex to shut the door, but we continue kissing. I'm afraid if I don't stop at least momentarily, I'm going to drop the bottle of white wine I brought.

"Mind if I…?" I unlock myself from her embrace, then set the bottle on a side table. "I wanted Champagne to celebrate, but the 7-Eleven only had Cook's. I'm not that desperate."

She chuckles. "I might have something a little more upscale." She takes my hand and walks me towards the kitchen, releasing it as she reaches into the wine cooler. "Schramsberg Blanc de Noirs, perfect." She pulls it off the shelf. "I'll open it if you get the Champagne flutes," she says, tearing the gold wrapper off the top. "Second cabinet on your right."

"Got it."

"Well, did you tell your nemesis about your victory?" Alex asks.

"I didn't so much tell her as she figured it out." I pull two glasses down. "But I enjoyed every moment of her confrontation."

"Something tells me you're a little smug when you win."

"Me, smug? Never."

The cork is in the perfect position to pop out, but she hands the bottle to me. "Want to do the honors?"

I take it and wiggle the cork just a bit, aiming it away from us. POP It flies across the room, landing in the entryway. "That felt good."

She slides the flutes across the counter. "It's going to taste even better."

I pour the golden liquid in each glass, then raise my own.

"To an amazing day for both of us…and to the future." She clinks her glass against mine.

"Cheers." I take a sip of the dry Champagne. "Wow, this is delicious."

"Glad you like it." Alex takes my hand, leading me to the living room. "Tell me about the rest of your day."

We chat about our days, taking turns to share the high and low points, though the low ones are few and far between. Dinner arrives, and we continue talking about real estate as we eat sashimi, temaki and dragon rolls.

"Did you have the tuna yet?" I hold a piece close to my mouth with chopsticks. "It might be the freshest I've ever had."

"So good," she comments around the Hamachi. "The Japanese restaurant has been around for years. They just relocated to the bottom of my building when I moved in. I order from them at least two or three times a week."

Everything about this evening feels right. Nothing is forced, the conversation flows naturally and we seem to equally enjoy the food. I help her clean up, then we return to the sofa, wrapped in each other's arms.

I can't help but wonder what would've happened if we would've kissed in high school. Alex is right—neither of us was prepared for that. As thrilling as it would've been for my 15-year-old self, it wouldn't have lasted. I had no idea that I like girls as much as I like boys, and I wasn't ready to explore my options in the late 90s. If we would've hooked up back then, I fear we wouldn't be where we are now.

"Piper?" Alex waves a hand in front of my face. "You drifted off. What were you just thinking?"

"What might've been," I respond.

"You mean back in high school?"

I nod. "I know we've discussed it before, but I can't help when it pops up in my head from time to time."

"I'm glad we didn't do anything about our attraction then." She plays with a strand of my blonde hair. "I don't think we would've reconnected like this."

It's like she can read my mind. "I agree." I lift my head off her shoulder. "Do you believe in inevitability?"

Her brow creases. "I never really thought about it."

"Maybe that's it—no matter what path we've taken to get where we are, maybe we were destined to be together."

"Maybe so, kid." She lets out a soft laugh. "Whatever the case is, I'm glad you're in my life again."

"Me, too." I kiss her firmly once more, grateful to be in this woman's arms not just now, but well into the future.

Epilogue

After rummaging through four boxes and grumbling the whole time, I finally find two Champagne flutes. The Schramsberg is chilled; now all I can do is wait.

There's no sense staying inside without furniture or even a rug in sight, so I sit on the top step leading to the porch and enjoy the Autumn breeze. I swear I can smell candy corn and witches brew in the air. In just a few days, it'll be Halloween and trick-or-treaters will line the streets in their scary costumes and plastic pumpkins. That reminds me—I need to buy candy next time I go to the store. I'm going big this year—no mini-Butterfingers or tiny bags of Skittles—I'm buying the full-sized candy bars. The kids will appreciate it and remember it next year. In just a few years, my house will be known as THE house to go to for the best treats.

She pulls up a few minutes after I've had time to ponder the merits of large Snickers versus Almond Joy, but then I consider the nut allergies that many children seem to have nowadays and decide I should go with classic Hershey's bars.

"Hey," she says, getting out of the car. "Have you been waiting long?"

I glance at my watch. "Not really."

She grabs two boxes from the backseat. "At least it's a nice evening to sit outside."

I meet her on the walkway and take the top box. "That plus there's no furniture."

"Right, there's that." She stops and stares at the newly constructed home with a fond smile. "I can't believe it's finished."

"I can." I jog up the steps and go inside. "It was only supposed to take nine months and here we are at a full 12."

She sets the box on the kitchen counter. "You know better than most people that everything takes longer than planned."

I hoist my box next to hers. "I would think this house was a priority given all the business I've done with the Lake Brothers."

"Well, no more waiting, babe." She kisses me, then looks over my shoulder. "I see you found the Champagne glasses."

"Not very easily." I don't even attempt to contain an eye roll. "I told you to label your boxes, Alex. Putting your stuff away is going to be a pain in the ass. There's no telling what belongs in the kitchen versus what goes in the bedroom."

She suggestively cocks one eyebrow. "I'll tell you what goes in the bedroom."

"Stop!" I playfully shoo her away. "Our bed won't be delivered for another two days anyway."

"That's not my fault."

I stick my hands on my hips. "Are you saying it's mine?"

"I would've been fine with one of our queen beds," she complains, opening the completely empty fridge save for the bottle of Champagne. "You're the one who had to order the king-sized bed."

"You'll thank me later."

"Maybe." She unwraps the foil around the top of the bottle. "But we pretty much sleep on the same side of the bed all curled up against each other. I don't know if that extra room is going to change that."

It's true—I love cuddling up to Alex after reading a little, and then going to sleep. We often wake up with me as her little spoon. Nevertheless, I don't want to lose this argument. "It will." Not a strong defense, but at least I got in the last word.

She pops the cork and lets out a Whoop. As the bubbly liquid spills down the bottle, Alex darts her tongue out to lick every last drop. It's not the first time she's done this; it's also not the first time it's turned me on.

I slide the glasses her way, and she fills them.

"I forgot how good this stuff is," she says.

"We haven't had this particular brand since I outbid Fig for the house across from Kerry Park four years ago," I note.

She hands me a flute. "You remember the brand of Champagne from that night?"

"Of course I do," I reply, shocked that she doesn't. If anyone remembers shit like that, it's my fiancée. "That was the night we began falling in love."

"No, it wasn't." She holds her glass but refrains from sipping it.

I give her a look.

"I began falling in love with you days before that." She grins.

"Ah, well then." I can't help smiling. "It's no wonder you don't remember this insignificant Champagne."

"I didn't say I didn't remember it." Alex places a hand on my hip, pulling me closer. "I was just surprised you did."

Of course she did—that's the woman I love—never forgetting a single moment of our lives together.

She raises her glass. "To our new house and the memories we've yet to make in it."

I tap my flute against hers and take a sip. I'm instantly transported back to that night at her condo when we celebrated the Kerry Park deal. I wouldn't want to relive that part of my life, especially when Fig uncovered that A.P. Vause was the felon Alex Vause. Truth be told, if Fig wouldn't have made such a spectacle about Alex's time in prison (that actually blew up in her face), Alex wouldn't have had to come clean and change her name back to her birth name. We also wouldn't have started our own real estate firm together. It's been a rocky path to get where we are, but I can't help smiling, knowing we're on the other side of it now.

"I love you," I whisper after another sip.

"Love you, too, babe."

The End

Author's Note: I hope you like this now wrapped up story! For all of you Vauseman Christmas fic fans out there, your wish will be granted this December.