Title: Snapshots: Anthology of a Life Well Lived

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children

Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca

Disclaimers and Other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Maureen Reardon, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, Phillip, Alan, and Alexandra Spaulding, Josh and Billy Lewis, and Jeffrey O'Neill are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera, Bianca Montgomery, Erica Kane, Kendall Hart Slater, Zach Slater, Maggie Stone, Greenlee Smythe, Adam, AJ, and Babe Chandler, Marissa Tasker, Krystal Carey, Opal Cortlandt, and Sarah, Bianca's first girlfriend are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The original characters of Jordan, Alexandria "Lexie", Tori, and Katy Montgomery-Kundera, Amelia Slater, Miah Bryant, Ashton Daughtry, Taylor McAlister, Cassidy Ryan, and Jennifer, Tracy, Jacob and Dylan Jackson-Morgan and their extended family are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, or any other person or entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

Rating: Overall, Chapter 8 is rated R, though this particular update is rated PG-13, I suppose. It's always a struggle for me when it comes to ratings, because I know what I would and would not want my 16 year-old niece to read. I'm not so certain I'd want her to see this, but it's definitely not worthy of an R rating. The story will eventually reach NC-17.

Synopsis: It's a stroll down memory lane for Olivia and Natalia, Lena and Bianca, and their friends and family, as two of our favorite couples' daughters prepare to enter into wedded bliss, in a double wedding… of sorts…

Author's Note: Pay particular attention to the transitions in time, as this chapter contains flashbacks within flashbacks.

Snapshots: Anthology of a Life Well Lived

Copyright September 2012

"Be her best friend, tell the truth, and overuse 'I love you'.

Go to work, do your best, don't outsmart your common sense.

Never let your prayin' knees get lazy.

And love like crazy

Always treat your woman like a lady.

Never get too old to call her baby.

Never let your prayin' knees get lazy.

And love like crazy…"

— Lee Brice, Love Like Crazy

Chapter 8.1—Showers and Thunderstorms:

The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 2:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

By mid-afternoon Jordan's bridal shower was in full swing, with friends and family, and friends who had become family, gathered all around her on the expansive back deck overlooking the ocean—a gift from Bianca to Lena when they were married nearly twenty-five years earlier. Lena and Olivia were running the massive built-in grill on the upper level, which meant a mixture of charcoal and gas grilled items, while Bianca and Natalia, with a little help from Kendall, took charge of the table with the sides and drinks. And Lexie and Tori were in charge of leading those ridiculous bridal shower games that everyone hated, but still insisted be played.

God bless tradition.

Later, there would no doubt be a karaoke showdown between Olivia and Bianca, just as there always was when they were together, but in the meantime, Katy acted as D.J. of the day, supplying them with an endless mix of music from Classic Rock to current Country and Pop, and a little of everything else in between. Everyone seemed pleased by her selections, and Olivia was happy to hear the teenager refer to rock 'n roll from her era as "Classic," rather than "The Oldies." Some days she had a harder time than others not feeling her age, especially since thanks to Ethan, Ava, Rafe, and their spouses, she and Natalia were grandmothers several times over. The fact that their third child was mere weeks away from marrying certainly wasn't helping matters.

But she digressed.

Plating the last of the burgers, made with Ed Bauer's famous recipe, Olivia shut off the gas grill, and bounded down the stairs to the mid-level deck, claiming the seat beside her wife. Lena and Bianca followed close behind, sitting nearby as Jordan began the process of opening her gifts.

As the gift opening got underway, the group of women began chattering amiably, and inevitably it seemed, the topic turned to advice-giving for the bride-to-be. Erica, having been married more times than even Olivia, of course had plenty to say about what not to do. And Olivia laughed along with her, admitting that she could relate to just about everything the older woman had to say. AJ's grandma Krystal, who had also been married to Adam Chandler—one of Erica Kane's former husbands, and AJ's grandfather—had to admit that she could relate as well. Erica's best friend Opal had a few choice comments herself, as did Jordan's Aunt Maggie and Aunt Kendall, AJ's mother, Babe Chandler and her fraternal twin sister, Marissa Tasker. All of them had experienced ups and downs in their relationships—and all had a story or two worth telling.

But it was the advice she received from her own mothers, Aunt Talia, and Auntie O, and the associated stories, that left more than a few attendees momentarily speechless, and everyone ultimately laughing…

"You will argue about the most ridiculous things." Natalia offered up the next topic of conversation, as they cleared away the luncheon plates and refreshed beverages for their guests.

"Oh, my god, will you!" Olivia emphatically agreed. Her eyes were wide with emphasis.

"Like what?" Jordan asked. She couldn't wait for this set of stories.

"Like toilet paper," Bianca said firmly. Her gaze met Lena's, and they smiled at one another.

"Toilet paper and sex," Lena clarified, drawing a laugh from her wife.

"Toilet paper and sex?" Emma's eyebrow vaulted; the question evident in the upward lilt in her tone. "In the same argument?"

"Yes, toilet paper and sex," Bianca confirmed.

"That's quite an interesting combination," Emma commented.

"You have no idea," Lena said wryly.

Bianca laughed again. Heartily, this time. "So, Jax was about seven weeks old, and…"

Shaking her head, Lena's memory drifted back to the argument, as her wife began the story…

The Montgomery-Kundera Household, Pine Valley—Friday, September 16, 2022, 3:45 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time

Bianca loved to shop at Costco. The weekly excursion was one of her favorite duties. And given their growing family, it often proved beneficial to buy in bulk. Toilet paper was certainly no exception, especially in a house full of women. She had just been shopping a few days prior, and there were two huge multi-roll packages stored in the linen closet just outside the main bathroom. The top package had been split open, and several rolls were gone. Sensibly, the packaging on the bottom one was still intact.

It was the middle of the night, and Lena had been passed out from exhaustion, when the most horrific noise jolted her from sleep. Stumbling from their bed, she left Bianca, who appeared to be completely unmoved by the cacophony, and shuffled out into the hallway, making her way toward the sound.

As she reached the bathroom, she discovered the source. It was ten year old Katy, sitting on the toilet, screeching like a banshee over the empty roll that had been left behind by one of her elder siblings. If Lena hadn't known any better, she might have believed the world was ending. And if she didn't stop the child from screaming before she woke the remainder of the house—especially their newest addition, little Jackson Travis, who was finally sleeping soundly—it just might.

Groggy, and in a rush to placate her distraught daughter, Lena had ripped the bottom package open, grabbing several rolls. She assumed that the backup supply in the bathroom cabinet had been depleted, or Katy wouldn't be in such a state. In the process, she upset the entire balance structure within the linen closet, and the upper package toppled to the ground, sending rolls of toilet paper scattering down the hallway.

Lena hated leaving a mess, but Katy was her priority at the moment. She wasn't certain why the child was so upset—it was truly unlike her. And so she left the mess behind, thinking that she would take care of it after attending to her daughter.

Several minutes later, Bianca stumbled out of their bedroom. Still half asleep, she tripped over several of the rolls in the dark. She muttered under her breath, and stooped down, gathering the wayward rolls. As she was working, Lena emerged from the bathroom with Katy in tow.

"I'll get those, Sweetheart," Lena said quietly. "Just let me get our Katydid back to bed first." She smiled down into the tearstained eyes of their youngest daughter, as she stroked the child's dark curls.

"That's okay. I've got it," Bianca snapped uncharacteristically. One by one, she placed the rolls back into what was left of the heavy plastic wrapper, organizing them meticulously.

Lena muttered something about fucked up hormones in her native language as she directed Katy toward her bedroom door just down the hall.

"I understand Polish, Lena," Bianca upbraided, as she finished stacking the rolls. And then she set the packages back into the closet, and closed the door.

"I'm well aware, Darling," Lena replied casually. It never served either of them well to be drawn into the other's foul mood. "Now come in here and help me tuck our daughter in again. I'll finish cleaning those up in a minute."

"It's already done," Bianca declared, as she entered the bedroom their two youngest daughters shared. She turned her attention toward Katy. "Are you all right, Sweetie?" Gently, she stroked her daughter's face, checking for a fever or any other indication as to why the child was up in the middle of the night.

Embarrassed, Katy's cheeks pinked. "I, uh—I pooped, and there was no toilet paper," she whispered clandestinely. "I got… I got scared."

"Trauma by toilet paper, must've been really shitty," Lena quietly quipped, attempting to lighten Bianca's mood. The expression on her wife's face told her that she had failed miserably.

Soft brown eyes, wide as saucers, peered up at Bianca. "I think I need therapy, Mommy," Katy declared.

Bianca couldn't resist smiling at the comment. She kissed the child's cheek. "You'll be fine, Sweetie," she assured. "We'll have a talk with your sisters, so that doesn't happen again, okay?" She knew it had been one of the older girls who left the bathroom without supplies, because she and Lena always used the master bathroom and no one else had been in the house.

Conciliated, Katy nodded.

"All right then, let's get you back into bed," Lena suggested.

Crawling into the center of her single bed, Katy plopped down. She peered up at Lena in the glow of the nightlight. "I'm sorry I made so much noise, Mama. I hope I didn't wake up the baby."

"That's okay, Sweetie," Lena soothed.

Bianca sank down onto the bed next to her daughter. "You didn't wake him, Honey."

Katy beamed, and Bianca reached out, gently tousling wild dark curls. "Now give Mommy a hug and kiss, so you can get back to sleep too."

The little girl threw herself into Bianca's arms, reveling in the embrace that met her own. She accepted a kiss then, followed by a hug and another kiss from her Mama. And then she was being tucked beneath the covers from both sides of the bed.

Together, Lena and Bianca said goodnight to her, and tiptoed out of the room, so as not to wake their daughter Tori, who was sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room. And once outside, Bianca launched her argument—why on earth had Lena opened a second package of toilet paper! It was simply ridiculous in her estimation, and she wanted answers.

So much for this foul mood blowing over, Lena thought. She wondered what in hell had gotten into her wife. This was the second ridiculous argument they'd had in one day!

"I just don't understand what the big deal is, Bianca. Toilet paper is toilet paper. What difference does it make which package it comes from?" Lena attempted to reason, as they made their way back toward their own bedroom.

"It just makes sense to take the roll out of the top package, Lena." Bianca shuffled into their bedroom behind her wife, pushing the door closed with a loud click. "The one that's already open!"

"I told you, all I cared about at the moment was making sure Katy didn't wake Jax," Lena reminded. She glanced toward the bassinet, surveying their sleeping son. "And if you don't calm down, and lower your voice, you're the one who's going to wake him."

"He's fine," Bianca said dismissively. "Stop changing the subject."

"This is an asinine argument, Bianca." Lena's fatigue was evident in her tone. She had taken the last shift with Jax, and she was exhausted.

"Are you calling me 'asinine'?" Bianca snapped. Her dark eyes flared in challenge.

"No, I said this argument is asinine," Lena countered. "Stop putting words in my mouth. You know I can't stand that."

"Well, maybe if you'd let me put something else in your mouth, I wouldn't be so cranky," Bianca muttered.

"Oh, my God," Lena sighed. She turned toward her wife, eyes sharp like lasers. "Is that what this is about?" she queried. "You're pissed at me because we're not having sex?" The question was rhetorical, and Bianca knew it. "Bianca, we just had a baby!"

"It's been seven weeks, Lena. Count them." Insistently, Bianca held up seven fingers, counting them one-by-one as she raised them. "Seven! And you've barely touched me!" she screeched.

"This is just hormones talking, and we both know it," Lena simplified. How in the hell had this turned into an argument about sex?

"I hate it when you blame my emotions on hormones, Lena," Bianca snapped. Her ire was notably more intense.

"Well, what else shall I blame it on, Bianca?" Lena countered. "I'm the anal one, remember? You leave wet towels on our bed after a shower, and I hang them up to dry. You leave dirty clothes all over the bathroom floor, and I take them to the laundry. That's the way we work. Unless you're pregnant or just had a baby… that's when you suddenly feel the need to organize everything goddamned thing in this house, right down to the toothpicks in the kitchen cabinet. Or in this case, the rolls of toilet paper in the linen closet."

Bianca groaned, and slumped down on their bed. "I hate it when you're right." She had the cutest pout on her lips, and Lena knew it was on purpose.

"Don't… don't… don't try to charm me, Bianca Christine," Lena said, waving her finger. "I'm mad at you right now."

"Yeah, well you'll get glad again, in the same pants you got mad in," Bianca said dismissively.

"What?" Lena looked confused, but she had to force back a chuckle. That was the silliest thing she had ever heard.

"It just means emotions are fleeting," Bianca explained. "They disappear quickly if we don't attend to them."

"God, you're such a therapist sometimes," Lena accused.

Bianca sidled up to her crabby wife. "You say that like it's a bad thing, Baby," she purred.

"It's four thirty in the morning, Bianca, and I have a long day ahead of me," Lena said, as she attempted to stifle the innate response of her body to that familiar timbre of Bianca's voice. "I am not having sex with you this morning."

"I promise you'll feel better if you do," Bianca enticed. Stealthily, she slipped her hand beneath Lena's shirt, teasing a nipple. "We both will."

An involuntary groan escaped Lena's lips, but the expression on her face was marked with incredulity. "You were so pissed, you were yelling at me not two minutes ago, and now you want to have sex?" The contradiction was baffling.

Bianca grinned in response. "Come on, Doc released me last week."

Lena met Bianca's gaze. "Look, I get it okay? We haven't had sex since Jax was born, and I know you need it as much as I do," she acknowledged. "God, do we need it," she muttered. They never fought like this, except when they lacked time and energy for sex. "But not like this. Not because we're fighting."

"I hate it when you're reasonable," Bianca groused. A discontented sigh fell from her lips. "I'm sorry, Lena. I'm tired, and I'm horny as hell, and I'm being ridiculous."

Lena nuzzled against Bianca's cheek. "Me too," she sighed empathically. She stayed in the moment with her wife, and soon heard herself whispering, "What do you say we get Kendall and Zach to take the kids tonight?"

"Yeah?" Bianca sounded more than interested.

"Yeah," Lena echoed. "I miss you, Bianca." She brushed her lips against Bianca's cheek. "I miss us, and I'm sorry I haven't been very attentive to you, of late."

"I know you and Olivia are busy with the renovations on the new property in London," Bianca said understandingly.

"That's no excuse," Lena countered. "And everything changes today," she declared. "I'll come home early, take you to dinner. Just you and me, okay? We can share a nice bottle of wine over a romantic candlelight dinner, somewhere cozy…"

"That sounds really nice," Bianca commented.

"It does, doesn't it?" Lena agreed. "And then maybe we can spend a few hours in the Jacuzzi."

"Keep talking…" Bianca purred.

"And then I'll take you to bed," Lena murmured, nipping lightly at Bianca's skin. "And make love to you all night…"

"You mean like we did before we had five children?" Bianca grinned.

"Just like that," Lena husked, as she nibbled Bianca's ear. "What do you think?"

"I think you've just romanced your way out of the dog house," Bianca announced.

Well played, Kundera, Lena mentally high-fived herself. Outwardly, she simply laughed and kissed her wife, leaving her with a preview of things to come later that evening. And then they returned to bed, both of them easily falling back to sleep.


The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 2:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"Wow, guess I missed that one, huh?" Jordan remarked, as Bianca finished her story. It had apparently taken place shortly after her parents dropped her off at Smith.

"Luckily, everyone missed it," Bianca replied. "I'm embarrassed to admit I was so far removed from my own subconscious needs that I picked an argument about toilet paper."

Olivia smirked. "My God, you really are a shrink," she said wittily.

The group of women made noises of amused agreement.

"I guess what we can take from this story is that no matter how long we're married, we'll still argue about stupid things," Emma commented.

"What I get from it is that arguments aren't always about the surface issue," Jordan reframed.

"They rarely are, Love," Bianca confirmed.

Emma glanced at Jordan, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, my God, you are such a shrink's daughter," she accused.

Jordan grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing," she intoned.

They all laughed together, and then Jordan turned her attention to Olivia and Natalia. "So what ridiculous argument do you two have for us?"

Natalia glanced at her wife, expectantly. Olivia was known for telling her their arguments were ridiculous.

"Who, me?" Olivia feigned ignorance. "Huh-uh." Raising her hands in self-defense, she shook her head in refusal. "I'm not saying a word."

Laughing, Natalia said, "She's afraid I'll cut her off."

"Damn straight, I am," Olivia confirmed.

"Oh, come on, Mom," Emma cajoled. "Ma can't cut you off twice over the same argument."

"Wanna bet?" Olivia said, wryly.

"Which argument was it?" Emma asked.

"Dylan. Fourth of July," Olivia said. "Ring any bells?"

"Oh, God…" Immediately, Emma was sorry she asked.

Jordan's curiosity piqued. "What's this?"

As much as she didn't want to hear this, Emma didn't protest. She had no secrets from Jordan. "The night they found me in bed with Dylan."

"Oh, yeah, I know all about that," Jordan said passively.

"What I'm sure you don't know is the argument Olivia and I had after we sent Dylan home," Natalia interjected. She thought for a moment, and then said, "Actually, we should probably start a few years before that, so you get the whole picture."

Olivia glanced at Bianca, a stern expression on her face. "This one was totally your fault."

Bianca laughed. She knew exactly where this was heading, as Natalia took them back to the year Emma entered puberty…

The Farmhouse of Love—Saturday, October 26, 2013, 1:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time

"You want to teach our daughter what?" Natalia's tone was filled with incredulity. She simply couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"If you would just calm down, and listen to me for a minute, you'd realize this isn't that big of a deal," Olivia defended.

"Not a big deal?" Natalia snapped. Her eyes were wide as saucers.

"You're being ridiculous, Natalia. I can't believe you're this upset," Olivia sighed.

"You want to teach our daughter to… to…" Natalia pressed her hand to her chest, willing her heart to stop pounding. "To… masturbate…" That final word was expunged on a covert whisper.

"Why is that so terrible?"

"Because she's Emma!" Natalia screeched. "She's our little Jellybean."

"In case you haven't noticed, Sweetheart, our little Jellybean is a teenager. With boobs," Olivia reminded. She stressed the seemingly sudden appearance of new body parts with both tone and exaggerated hand gestures, in an effort to get her point across. They had taken Emma to buy her first real bra several weeks prior—an event that had set Olivia on a knowledge-seeking quest that ultimately led her to this conversation.

"She's only twelve!" Natalia countered. For the purposes of this argument, she ignored the fact that Emma's thirteenth birthday was a scant three days away.

"Yeah, twelve going on twenty," Olivia argued. "I don't see what's so wrong with giving her knowledge about her own body," she reasoned. "If she knows her body was created to respond to sexual stimulation, then she won't be so inclined to believe that some boy who's feeling her up is the love of her life just because her body reacts to what he's doing."

"You're out of your damned mind," Natalia accused. She shook her head in disbelief. "You're just lucky I'm so horny from being pregnant, Olivia, or I'd cut you off for the next six months."

Intimidated by the mere thought of no sex for that long, Olivia changed tactics. "You tell me that as a teenager you didn't believe getting aroused by Gus meant that he loved you," she challenged. "Huh?" She nodded, reinforcing the challenge. "You tell me that."

Natalia was silent. She hadn't ever gotten all that aroused by him, but she couldn't deny that her body responded a little—and that she did, in fact, equate that response to love.

"I thought so," Olivia said gently, when Natalia didn't answer.

"Olivia, please," Natalia pleaded. "I just don't know that I can agree with this."

"I don't want Emma getting pregnant, Honey," Olivia countered. "Or worse!" She sounded worried, almost scared. "Knowledge is power."

"I don't either," Natalia agreed. She understood her wife's fear. Shared it, in fact. "But does it really need to be this extreme?"

"I'm not suggesting we show her porn, Natalia," Olivia said sarcastically.

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

Lowering herself to their bed with a deep sigh, Natalia glanced at her wife. "Where did this even come from?" she asked. "And if you say Dr. Phil, I swear to God, Olivia, I'm taking your television privileges away until our kids are grown."

Olivia laughed, drawing a smile from Natalia.

"I talked with Bianca, Honey," Olivia answered, as she sat down on the bed beside Natalia. She wasn't about to admit that the first inkling of the idea had come from a controversial episode of Oprah, where Dr. Laura Berman had appeared. "The bra thing really caught me off guard, and I freaked out. I just… I hadn't realized how quickly Emma was growing up."

"I know what you mean," Natalia empathized. A glance toward Olivia turned into an in-depth study as she searched her wife's eyes. "There's more to this," she said knowingly. "Why is this so important to you?"

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Olivia leaned her forehead against them. Her eyes slid closed, as she released a slow sigh. "I don't want Emma growing up like we did," she admitted. "I don't want us to send those messages to her, that her body is evil, or that sex is dirty. I don't want her to hate her body, or feel guilty when it brings her pleasure. I don't… I don't want her to ever feel like she's damaged goods."

And there it was; the crux of the issue. Natalia fought back tears, as she wrapped her arms around her wife, burying her face in Olivia's hair. "We won't let that happen," she whispered reassuringly. "We'll find a way, okay?"

Nodding, Olivia sniffed back tears she hadn't realized were falling.

Gently, Natalia stroked Olivia's hair as she held her. "You're so strong all the time, sometimes I forget how vulnerable you are underneath," she said quietly. "I never knew you grew up hating your body the way I did."

"How could I not?" Olivia's laugh held no humor, as she wiped tears from her eyes. Thank God for waterproof mascara, she thought. But then she realized that it didn't matter. Natalia loved her no matter who she was inside, or what she looked like on the outside. She always had, and that had made all the difference in the world.

"Your body is beautiful, Olivia," Natalia quietly declared. "You're beautiful."

"I never really knew that until you, Natalia," Olivia shared. "Men always made comments about my body, but I never believed them, because my mother told me they would say whatever was necessary, just to get into my pants."

"I understand," Natalia said in solidarity. "Mama and Abuela always said men were like snakes. They could slither through the smallest gap, and their tongues burned with lies that distracted while they gained entrance."

"Silver-tongued devils. That's what Mom called them," Olivia related. "Turns out she was right."

"Not always, Liv," Natalia gently corrected. "You've had relationships with good men."

"Yeah," Olivia agreed, "but no matter how much they told me they loved me, or that I was beautiful, I never believed them. Not really. I never really believe it until you. That's why all my relationships were such train-wrecks."

"What was so different about me?"

"I knew it wasn't my body that you loved. Not at first, anyway," Olivia answered. "If anything, it was what you were running away from—because it was the wrong package."

"That's certainly true enough," Natalia admitted.

"And that's how I knew you meant it," Olivia said.

"I meant every word," Natalia declared. "It scared the hell outta me, but I've never regretted saying it. Not for a moment."

Olivia smiled for the first time since their conversation had turned heavy. "Neither have I," she whispered, as she leaned closer, drawing Natalia into a kiss.

And then, exhausted from the onslaught of emotion, Olivia sighed heavily. "So what are we gonna do about Emma?"

"Do we really need to decide on this right now?"

"No—" Olivia shook her head. "I think it can wait a little while. She's not really showing an interest in boys yet anyway."

"Thank God for small miracles," Natalia declared.

"Yeah," Olivia sighed. "But I don't wanna wait too long."

"What if I'm never comfortable with this particular plan?"

"I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Olivia reasoned. She thought for a moment; then asked, "Will you at least read some of the information Bianca sent me?"

Natalia nodded. "Yes…" If Bianca had recommended it, Natalia trusted that there was validity to Olivia's proposal. She just needed to get over her initial resistance to the concept.

Leaning over, Olivia pressed a kiss to Natalia's temple. "Thank you."

A few weeks later, Natalia finally, reluctantly agreed, and they sat down as a family to have the next part of "the talk." Surprisingly, it went far better than the first part—the part they had been forced to have five years prior, when Emma started asking questions about where Dantéa came from, and how she got "in there." The look on her nine-year-old face when she figured out how Uncle Frank figured in had been priceless, and she had promptly declared, "Eww… That's so gross!" Olivia had muttered her vehement agreement, and Natalia ended the discussion with a pointed look.

This time, Emma wasn't quite as grossed out; though she wasn't certain she was very impressed, either. Their delivery had been a bit clumsy, more so than before, what with Olivia's charts and graphs, and Natalia's fidgety apprehension, but Emma took it in stride, and didn't seem to be harmed in any way that might send her into therapy. And so they deemed their discussion a success.


The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 2:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"Though it certainly didn't seem that way at the time, Natalia was a bit too easy to convince back then," Olivia said, as she concluded that part of the story. "I should've known it would come back to bite me in the ass." Her comment served as a precursor that kept everyone on the edge of their seats, as she fast-forwarded the story nearly three years into the future…

The Farmhouse of Love—Thursday, August 4, 2016, 2:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time

Though it wasn't a common occurrence, on this particular morning Emma had been left in charge of her three younger siblings. At nearly sixteen, she was considered by her parents to be mature, and responsible enough to look after them. As such, Olivia and Natalia left the younger girls in Emma's care, and headed out after breakfast to run errands. They had last minute details to attend to as they prepared for another trip to the Vineyard to visit Lena and Bianca. By their own admission, they weren't expected back at the farmhouse until around five o'clock in the afternoon, and they promised to bring dinner back with them.

Unfortunately for all of them, Olivia and Natalia would return home earlier than expected, and what they found led to a firestorm.

"This is not okay, Olivia," Natalia said insistently, as she paced back and forth across the living room. "It just isn't."

Minutes earlier, they had found Emma, in the midst of a tryst with Maureen Reardon. Politely sending Maureen home, Olivia had let Emma know that her behavior was inappropriate—not because of what she was doing, but because she had chosen to do it in their home, when she was supposed to be looking after her sisters. She hadn't allowed Emma an opportunity to dispute—not in the moment. Natalia, on the other hand, was disappointed beyond belief that it had happened at all, and furious with Olivia for her apparent tolerance.

"Don't you think you're being just a little bit hypocritical here, Natalia?" Olivia pinched her thumb and forefinger together in demonstration. "I mean, Rafe wasn't exactly an immaculate conception."

"You are so not funny," Natalia said flatly.

"I'm a little bit funny," Olivia contended with a grin.

Ignoring Olivia's attempt at charming her, Natalia leveled her with a glare. "This is entirely your fault," she accused.

"My fault?" Olivia emphasized the presumed ownership. "What the…" How had this turned on her so quickly? She was baffled.

"You were the one who insisted upon teaching her about… masturbation." That word felt like poison on Natalia's tongue, and she spewed it out like vitriol. Not that she was opposed to the act itself. On the contrary, she found it quite pleasurable when shared with Olivia as part of their intimate relationship. But they were talking about Emma, and the idea of their daughter engaging in any sort of sexual activity whatsoever made her edgy.

"'Give her knowledge about her own body', you said," Natalia mocked. "Look at what she's done with that knowledge, Olivia! Nice job."

Infuriated, she stormed toward the staircase with purpose, grabbing the banister.

"Hey!" Olivia yelled.

Natalia's head snapped around, and her eyes, dark and daring, met Olivia's gaze. "What? You're gonna try to defend yourself?"

"You're damned straight, I am," Olivia snapped. "I was trying to protect our daughter, Natalia. I did what I thought was right at the time."

"So you admit you were wrong," Natalia translated. Slowly, she edged her way back toward the center of the room.

"Not on your life," Olivia denied.

"Our fifteen year old daughter is having sex, Olivia." Natalia pointed out the obvious, in a tone that brooked no dispute as to the inappropriateness of Emma's decision. "In our home," she emphasized. "Of course, why wouldn't she?" she posed with rhetorical sarcasm. "After all, this is where you told her it was okay to 'explore herself'," she snapped. "Now she's exploring herself, and someone else!"

"Oh, now you're really being a hypocrite," Olivia accused.

"We're grown adults, Olivia!" Natalia yelled. "And she's a kid. She's too young to be having sex!"

"She's almost sixteen years old, Natalia," Olivia argued. "Have you forgotten what it's like to be a teenager? The more we tell her she can't do something, the more she's gonna wanna do it."

"If you hadn't insisted upon teaching her to do that, she wouldn't be…"

"Oh, because your mother totally taught you to masturbate, and that's why you had sex at fifteen, right?" Olivia's right hand moved in cadence with her argument, accenting her points as she made them. "Or was it Abuela? Is that it? Abuela taught you the art of self-pleasure?"

Incensed by Olivia's comments, Natalia grabbed an abandoned mug from the coffee table, and flung it at her wife. "Fuck you!"

"Ooh!" Olivia grinned in surprise, as she quickly ducked to avoid being hit with the flying object. She was grateful it was empty. The mug hit the wall behind her, smashing into pieces. "Guess I hit a nerve." She sounded almost amused.

"Yeah, and that's the only thing you're gonna be hitting for a while," Natalia snapped. "You can sleep in the guest room until I'm finished being pissed at you."

"Well, at least Emma and I will be in the same boat once you're finished with us," Olivia muttered. "Maybe Rafe can join us too, since he disappointed you the same way as a teen."

"That was uncalled-for, Olivia," Natalia censured. "And so were your comments about Abuela."

"And you throwing things, and telling me to fuck myself, weren't?" Olivia challenged.

Angry, but appropriately rebuked, Natalia sighed. "I'm sorry," she said contritely. She dropped down onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands. "God, Liv, this is so much worse than it was with Rafe. I didn't even think that was possible. But it is."

Dropping down next to her wife, Olivia bumped shoulders with her. "Hey, at least she's not fucking some jock," she reasoned. "We don't have to worry about her getting pregnant."

"You are so not helping right now."

Olivia sighed. "Look, I know this is hard, Honey," she empathized. "But we can't stop her from growing up."

"Yeah, well we don't have to give her ideas, either," Natalia countered.

"We've talked about this before, Natalia. Our mothers made sex sound dirty, and it made us both feel ashamed," Olivia reminded. "We've raised Emma to have a healthy outlook on sex, and on her own body. And now she's probably confused because of the way we reacted."

The more she talked, the more Olivia realized the error of her ways, and declared, "We need to go talk to her right now, Natalia. We can't let her think she's done something terrible." She looked at her wife expectantly, as she rose from the sofa. "Are you coming with me?"

Natalia remained seated, her emotions unmoved. "I can't, Liv," she said in a shaky voice. "I just… I can't talk with her about this. Not right now." She glanced up at Olivia with tears in her eyes. "I'm just too disappointed in her, and I don't want her to see that."

Baffled by the intensity of Natalia's reaction, Olivia simply shook her head, and silently climbed the stairs to talk with their daughter. Emma was beyond apologetic for her behavior—she recognized it as irresponsibility, given that she had been left in charge of her sisters. Olivia expressed appreciation for Emma's ability to realize where she had gone wrong, and together they set firm ground rules in place—no sexual activities in their home, regardless of the gender of her partner. They talked about safe sex again, addressing concerns about partners of both genders. And Olivia elicited from Emma an agreement that should decide to have sex with anyone other than Maury, whom Emma swore had never been with anyone else, she would come to Olivia beforehand, so that her mother could adequately protect her.

It would take Natalia two full days before she could even bring herself to talk with Emma, but when she did, she apologized for the silence, and expressed the heart of her concerns. Emma cried in her arms like she had as a little girl, and apologized profusely for having disappointed her.

Natalia would eventually apologize for struggling so much with Emma growing up—but not before she and Olivia had another a knock-down, drag-out fight about their daughters and the issue of sexuality. Olivia took the group along for the duration, as she fast-forwarded the story another three years into the future…

The Farmhouse of Love—Thursday, July 4, 2019, 11:30 p.m. Central Daylight Time

"How could you just let that go?" Natalia demanded, as she led the way into their bedroom after finding Emma in bed with Dylan.

"I'm too goddamned exhausted right now to care, Natalia," Olivia sighed, as she slammed the door behind them. They had a feverish seven-year-old in one bedroom, a pouty teenager in another bedroom, and two extremely crabby five-year-olds in a third, right across the hall. Olivia had simply had enough. "I just wanna go to bed. We can deal with Emma in the morning."

"We should deal with her right now," Natalia insisted.

"Why?" Olivia shrugged argumentatively. "It's not like she's gonna sneak Dylan back in through her window tonight. I'm sure he's scared shitless that we've called his mothers."

"We probably should," Natalia declared. "I'm sure Jen and Tracy would be just as upset about this as we are." She thought for a moment about the logistics, and then changed course. "Then again, it doesn't exactly sound very convincing coming from…"

"Let me guess," Olivia interrupted snappishly, "This is all my fault again, because I taught Emma to be comfortable in her sexuality, instead of repressing her urges."

Natalia turned sharply, leveling Olivia with a look. "You bet your sweet ass it is," she said humorlessly.

"I should probably just banish myself to the guest room then," Olivia said flippantly. Walking across the room with marked purpose, she angrily snatched her pillow from their bed.

"That'd be an excellent idea," Natalia said with biting sarcasm.

Olivia turned toward her, anger flaring in her eyes. "When are you gonna get over this shit?" She had long-since stopped giving a damn about the swear jar.

"Excuse me?"

"When are you going to realize that our daughter is a grown woman?" Olivia rephrased.

Natalia looked positively flummoxed.

"Whether you want to deal with it or not, Emma is in fact an adult, Natalia," Olivia contended. "She's damned near nineteen years old, and she's leaving for college in less than six weeks! Do you think we'll be able to control what she does from four hundred miles away? Or are you gonna move into her dorm room with her?"

"You've always been so permissive with her," Natalia accused, by way of deflection.

"And you haven't?" Olivia challenged.

"Not when it comes to sex," Natalia said firmly.

"So that makes me the bad guy," Olivia presumed.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Olivia," Natalia snapped. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"Did I really put those words in your mouth, Natalia?" Olivia challenged. "Because I distinctly remember you agreeing that this is completely my fault."

"Well, it was your bright idea," Natalia accused. "And I'll tell you one thing that's for damned sure: you are not teaching our girls the things you taught Emma."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Olivia was stunned.

Natalia sighed, as she dropped down onto their bed. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," she said ashamedly.

Tentatively, Olivia stepped closer, setting her pillow back on their bed. "Well, I should hope not," she said, her tone softening dramatically. "Emma is just as much yours as she is mine. She always has been."

Testing the waters, she eased down onto their bed next to Natalia. "For her sake, thankfully, she has more of you in her, than she does me."

"She certainly learned by my example, didn't she?"

Natalia sounded so disappointed in herself; it nearly broke Olivia's heart. "What are you talking about, Sweetheart?" she asked supportively.

"I feel like a failure with her when it comes to this, Liv," Natalia confessed. "In some ways even more than I did with Rafe. I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have been so honest about my own history with her. Maybe then, she would've…"

"Your own history?" Olivia was thoroughly confused. Her wife had lived like a nun for most of her life.

The expression on Natalia's face said she doubted her wife's sanity. "I had a baby at sixteen, Olivia. Did you happen to forget that?"

"Well, in case you don't remember, so did I," Olivia reminded.

"It was different with Ava," Natalia contended. "We both know that."

"Yes, we do," Olivia agreed. "But Emma doesn't. She has no idea how Ava was conceived, and if I have my way, she never will."

Reaching for Natalia, Olivia pulled her close, gently stroking her hair. "You have to forgive yourself for the mistakes you think you've made, Natalia," she said gently. "And I'm not talking about mistakes with Emma or Rafe, because from where I sit, you haven't made any."

Natalia attempted to protest, but Olivia shushed her. "No—," she insisted. "They may not always make perfect choices, but they're both adults now, and I think they're pretty damned decent human beings. They're kind, compassionate, respectful people, who work hard and love completely. What more could we ask?"

"We could ask that they not make us grandmas anytime soon," Natalia joked.

Olivia laughed. "I don't think either one of them is in any big hurry to make that happen," she surmised. "My guess is that Ava will beat them both to it."

"I'm surprised she and Craig haven't already," Natalia commented.

"I'm almost sorry they haven't," Olivia remarked.

The sly smirk on Olivia's lips told Natalia her wife was baiting her. "Why sorry?" She couldn't wait to hear the response to this one.

Leaning close, Olivia whispered in Natalia's ear. "Because I've never made love with a grandma before."

Natalia's expression was soft as she gazed lovingly at her wife. "That is just so… disturbing, Honey," she said drolly, drawing a laugh from Olivia.

"What, you think we won't still be getting it on when we're old and gray?" Olivia teased.

"Stop it," Natalia chuckled and pushed Olivia's shoulder.

"No, I'm serious," Olivia countered. And then in anything but all seriousness, she covered her teeth with her lips, feigning her best old lady impression, "I may be gumming you to orgasm instead of nibbling, but I'll still be gettin' the job done, Baby."

And then, as was often the case, they were laughing together, their argument quickly forgotten. They would talk with Emma the following morning, letting her know why they were upset, and how they planned to go about fixing it. But for tonight, Olivia would not be banished to the guest room, much to the delight of them both.


The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 3:00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"Sounds to me like the running theme here isn't ridiculous arguments, but arguments about sex," Emma contended, as Olivia's story drew to a close.

"Yeah, mostly about whether or not you should get any," Jordan laughed, nudging Emma with her shoulder, as the others joined in.

When the group's laughter died down, Olivia considered Emma's comment. She couldn't help but release a soft chuckle of her own.

"What's so funny?" Natalia asked.

"Do you realize that you've banished me from our bed more times than I could count, yet, I rarely ever ended up in the guest room? And even when I did, I never spent a single night at home without you."

Natalia grinned. "That's because I can't stand to sleep without you," she confessed.

"So you would follow me to the guest room, and crawl in bed with me," Olivia remembered fondly. "But not before announcing quite vehemently that you were still pissed at me."

"And that we were definitely not having make-up sex," Natalia added.

"Before we went ahead and had some fabulous make-up sex," Olivia smirked.

"Are you serious, Ma?" Emma sounded amused.

Laughing, Natalia nodded. "Our bed is wonderful," she granted. "But the bed in the guest room has seen some of the best make-up sex ever known to man, or… woman, I should say."

"Amen, to that!" Olivia exclaimed with a roguish grin.

"Gross," seventeen-year-old Bella scowled.

Crossing her arms, she fixed her mothers with a mortified glare. She was pissed enough that she had to be here, instead of back home with her friends. She certainly didn't need to hear stories about her mothers' sex life. That was a punishment far worse than anything else they could level her way.

Reflectively, Bianca grinned. It wasn't so long ago she was the one ruining a teenaged girl's life. Tilting to the side, she gave her tempestuous goddaughter a playful nudge. "You'll survive, I promise," she teased, earning a roll of the eyes in response.

"Hey, what do you say we save a few of these stories for Emma's shower," Jordan piped in with a suggestion.

"When is Emma's shower again?" Ashton asked humorously. "We Southern women love a good story."

Everyone laughed, but Emma was quick to respond to Jordan's suggestion.

"That's okay, I don't mind sharing," she countered. "Better to be mortified in front of your friends, than mine," she teased.

"That's so thoughtful of you," Jordan said dryly, drawing laughter from the group.

"Well, you are always telling me I'm awesome," Emma crowed. "So…"

"I should probably know better than to feed that ego of yours," Jordan quipped. "Surgeons are the worst."

"Second only to attorneys," Emma volleyed in return, earning her a scowl from Jordan, and a chuckle from everyone else.

Emma shrugged, a laissez-faire expression on her face, causing Jordan to laugh.

"Hard to believe you're usually the uptight one," Jordan teased.

"I'm not uptight, I'm cautious," Emma argued.

Jordan laughed again. "Okay, Cautious One," she said sarcastically, "would you mind handing me the next gift?"

Grinning, Emma reached for the next package, handing it over to the bride-to-be.

Jordan accepted the package, and was immediately stopped in her tracks when she recognized the handwriting on the card. Glancing at Emma, her dark eyes danced as she smiled. "You bought me a gift?" She sounded surprised.

Emma's brow furrowed at the absurdity of Jordan's question. "Of course I bought you a gift," she answered, confused. "It's your wedding shower."

Jordan leaned close. "But I didn't get you anything."

Smiling, Emma shook her head. "It's not my shower." She stressed the identity of this particular shower's guest of honor.

A soft laugh fell from Jordan's lips. "I guess you're saying I'd better get on that."

Emma grinned and nodded. "And it better be good, too," she teased.

Jordan rolled her eyes, and turned her attention back to the package. Lifting the envelope, she opened it, finding the most beautiful handmade notecard inside. It had an intricate pastel heart drawn on the outside, the outline trimmed in delicate lace. She couldn't help but smile. Card making was something Emma loved to do to relax, and Jordan knew how long it took to produce something as breathtaking as treasure she held in her hands.

Gingerly, she opened it, finding a message in Emma's perfect script awaiting her. Moments later, tears glistened in Jordan's dark eyes when she met Emma's steady gaze again. A tremulous smile teased at the corners of her mouth as she reached up, cradling Emma's face in her palm. And then she leaned close, pressing a tender kiss against Emma's cheek. "You always know exactly what I need to hear," she whispered softly. "Thank you."

Emma felt her face flush under Jordan's gaze. "You're welcome," she murmured. "Now, would you open the damned gift?" she prodded, attempting to ward off the emotions that threatened to turn her into a blubbering mess.

Jordan laughed, and set her sights on the package again. It was wrapped perfectly, not a single blemish to be found—very Emma. So much for her not being uptight. The paper crinkled as she pushed it aside, revealing a designer box from Harrods. Emma had been in London for a medical conference a few months ago, and must have picked her gift up then, Jordan assumed.

A moment later, a soft gasp escaped from Jordan's lips. "It's beautiful, Em," she quietly declared, as she lifted a stunning white silk kimono with delicate lace from the box. And then she arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is supposed to be for me?"

Emma smirked. "Absolutely." She raised her hand, fumbling for some sort of signal. "Scouts' honor."

Jordan rolled her eyes. "You were never a Scout."

"Well, you have to admit I'm always calm, cool, and collected, in an emergency," Emma countered.

"In surgery, maybe; but that isn't the same thing as a Scout," Jordan argued. "I know. Because I was a Scout."

"Two words: sailboat excursion," Emma volleyed.

Instantly, Jordan fell silent.

"Thought so," Emma smirked.

"Okay, I definitely need to hear this story," Miah intoned, garnering a scowl from Jordan.

"Same here," Taylor added, earning a rousing wave of agreement from around the deck, including from Jordan's mothers. Even Bella looked interested in this one—and she was never one to follow the crowd, unless she intended to stir up trouble amongst the ranks.


Nantucket Sound, Massachusetts, Monday, July 26, 2021, 3:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

Emma and Jordan set out early Monday morning from the Dockside Marina at Oak Bluffs, moving through the channel past Chappaquiddick, and out into the open waters heading toward Nantucket Sound. It was a beautiful morning, sunny and warm with clear blue skies as far as the eye could see. And Jordan, having learned to sail at her father's right hand, was both meticulous and skilled at directing the vessel, handling it with perfect precision. Lena and Bianca had no qualms whatsoever allowing her to take Emma out on the water for the day.

Catching sight of her as she moved, Emma was momentarily transported back to the dance they'd shared a few evenings prior. Jordan's body was firm in the way of a well-toned athlete, yielding in the way of a woman, and even now, Emma was in a constant battle between honor and desire, as she watched her working the sails. Still, she listened carefully, carrying out each one of Jordan's instructions with the same precision that would be required of her in surgery someday. No would dare argue that they didn't make a perfect team.

Sails raised, they took their time, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air as the winds carried them across the waters, finally anchoring off shore near Dionis Beach, just west of Nantucket Harbor. Sheltered by dunes, the beach was beautiful and mostly secluded—the perfect place for a leisurely swim. They played like children in those warm, tranquil waters until the sun rose high overhead, and then they climbed back up onto the boat to dry off in the sunshine, before disappearing down into the galley where they worked together to prepare a light lunch.

By early afternoon, they were moored in Nantucket Harbor, near Steamboat Wharf where the ferryboats docked. Exiting the boat, they chattered and laughed together, never running out of conversation, as they slowly meandered along, exploring the quaint shops and galleries that flanked the cobblestone streets of downtown Nantucket, stopping by The Juice Bar to enjoy a cool drink and homemade ice cream, as they lingered in the late afternoon sun.

"I've heard the sunsets are spectacular out on the Sound," Emma commented, taking another bite of her waffle cone.

"Rivaled only by the sunrise," Jordan said from experience, emphasizing the part about it rising. "We could anchor out there for a while on our way back, if you'd like," she suggested.

"That sounds amazing," Emma readily agreed.

Two hours later, they were anchored just off the coast in Nantucket Sound, waiting impatiently for the spectacular sunset. After dropping anchor, they pulled one of the thick down mattress toppers from the cabin out onto the deck, piling it with blankets and pillows. And then Emma disappeared down into the galley with a canvas bag filled with ingredients she had picked up in the marketplace near the pier, leaving Jordan with firm instructions to "stay put" up on deck.

When Emma returned less than an hour later, she found Jordan lounging on the makeshift pallet where she'd left her, singing softly to the music that played from her phone via Bluetooth speakers, as she gazed at the sky. She smiled to herself, wondering how Jordan would react to her creation—a beautifully orchestrated meal of fresh grilled halibut with peach and pepper salsa. "Hungry?" she asked, as she moved across the deck.

Instantly, Jordan sat upright as she turned her head the sound of Emma's voice. "Oh, my god," she groaned. "I don't know what that is, but it smells amazing!"

Excited to share her masterpiece, Emma smiled and announced her creation. "I hope you like it."

Jordan grinned. "You know I'm trash for anything with salsa."

Emma laughed. "Which is exactly why I chose this particular dish," she said, as she and handed one of the plates to Jordan. Then she dropped down in the middle of the pallet beside her. "Light, lemony fish and sweet summer peaches with a spicy kick…"

"Just marry me now, would ya?" Jordan husked the moment she took her first bite.

Delivered on a groan of pleasure, Jordan's comment caught Emma off guard, and she felt a soft gasp catch in her chest. And then she bit her bottom lip, releasing it slowly as she met Jordan's gaze. Someday, I hope… Emma thought, but didn't dare voice. And then she grinned, her eyes twinkling. "I take it you're pleased?"

Blushing, Jordan laughed. "It's delicious, Em," she complimented. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Emma replied, settling in beside her.

"I can't believe how perfect it is out here tonight," Emma commented a few moments later. Being July, it was hot, but the light breeze coming off of the water kept it comfortable, far more so than a Midwestern summer, and that was definitely something Emma could appreciate.

"I know!" Jordan said excitedly. Having filled Emma's water bottle along with her own while Emma was in the galley, she handed it to her, receiving a "Thank you," in return.

"From the looks of it, we're not the only ones who think so," Jordan commented, noting the other boats that had joined them since their arrival.

Emma cracked the cap on her water bottle. "Great minds," she said in salute before taking a drink.

"You know what?" Sounding determined, Jordan didn't wait for a response. "We should stay tonight."

"Ou-out here?" Emma sounded less than convinced that it was a good idea.

"Sure, why not?" Jordan shrugged. "I've stayed on the water overnight with my dad lots of times."

Considering the notion for a moment, Emma smiled. "Sounds like fun."

Jordan's eyes lit up, and she fished her phone out of her pocket, dialing her mother. "Hey, Mom," she greeted when Bianca answered the phone.

"Hi, Sweetheart," Bianca greeted. "Are you girls on your way back?"

"That's why I'm calling," Jordan answered.

"Oh?" Bianca replied, her tone of voice asking the question.

"It's gorgeous out on the water tonight," Jordan said. "Do you mind if we stay? Sleep under the stars?"

"You sure you're safe out there?" Bianca asked.

"We're safe here, anchored in Nantucket Sound," Jordan assured. "Dad and I have anchored in this area before, and I checked the weather reports; there's nothing but clear skies."

"Yeah, and it looks like a few others have the same idea," Emma piped in.

"That's fine with us then," Bianca answered. She trusted her daughter's judgment. Zach had taught her well.

"Awesome," Jordan grinned, giving Emma the thumbs-up. "Thanks!"

Bianca chuckled at her daughter's excitement. "You're welcome," she said. "Be safe. We'll see you in the morning."

"We will," Jordan assured. "'Night, Mom."

"Goodnight, Sweetheart," Bianca said before disconnecting the call. She turned to her wife and friends who were gathered on the back deck of the cottage. "Jordan and Emma are anchored off the coast at Nantucket," she reported. "They're staying the night."

Taking a moment to soak in the warm summer air, Lena nodded. "It's a beautiful night to sleep out under the stars," she declared.

"They're totally gonna hook up out there," Olivia declared, earning a variety of responses from the group, including an admonishment from her wife. "I'd bet money on it."


Nantucket Sound, Massachusetts, Monday, July 26, 2021, 7:00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

After dinner, Emma gathered the plates and they went down to the galley to clean up, and once finished, she and Jordan kicked back on the pile of pillows, and settled in, side by side, chatting as they awaited Mother Nature's evening display.

"Dinner was delicious," Jordan declared. "Thank you again."

Pleased, Emma smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."

"Where did you get that recipe?" Jordan asked, curiously.

"I made it up as I was shopping for ingredients this afternoon," Emma answered nonchalantly.

"You made that up," Jordan said, unable to believe it.

"Sure," Emma shrugged. It wasn't that big a deal. "My mom's a classically trained chef," she reminded. "She taught me a lot about how to blend texture and flavor for the best combinations. I know how to pair wine, too. I'm just not old enough to buy it yet," she sighed.

"Wow," Jordan said in awe. "That's... just… wow."

Amused, Emma chuckled. "My cooking left you speechless," she observed.

Jordan rolled on her side, propping her head against her palm, her gaze falling on Emma's profile in the slowly waning daylight. "That's not the only thing about you that leaves me speechless," she husked.

Emma groaned. The expression on her face said she was kicking herself for the comment. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Jordan laughed. "But that doesn't make it any less true."

Averting that insistent gaze, Emma glanced out across the horizon. "We're gonna miss the sunset," she said, by way of distraction.

"I'm not giving up, Emma Spencer," Jordan quietly declared.

"And I'm not giving in," Emma countered gently.

Confidence danced across Jordan's face in the form of a smile that reached all the way to those gorgeous brown eyes. "Perhaps not yet," she murmured. "But someday…"


Nantucket Sound, Massachusetts, Monday, July 26, 2021, 8:00 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"This is absolutely breathtaking," Emma declared as the sun began its final descent, splaying the most brilliant hues of oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples through the fluffy clouds and across the darkening sky.

"It's definitely worth the wait," Jordan agreed, once again awed by the sight.

Emma glanced at her. "Thank you for sharing this with me," she said softly.

"Anytime," Jordan whispered, leaning her head against Emma's shoulder. And together, they simply enjoyed the perfect summer evening.


Nantucket Sound, Massachusetts, Tuesday, July 27, 2021, 5:30 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time

The remainder of the evening seemed to fly by as they talked and laughed, danced and played together on the deck. And finally, around midnight, they settled down beneath a light blanket, allowing the gentle rocking of the boat to lull them to sleep under a clear night sky that sparkled by the light of the moon and a million twinkling stars.

Jordan was the first to wake the following morning. The boat still rocked them gently, the music still played softly in the background—and the sun was rising in the East. Stealing a few moments in the quiet of the morning, she simply watched Emma sleep, wondering what it would be like to wake her with a kiss.

Once finished with her ponderings, she leaned over, shaking Emma gently as she whispered against her ear. "Emma, wake up. You're missing the sunrise."

Wakened from a deep sleep, Emma sounded confused. "What?" she croaked out. "Didn't we just watch it go down?"

A soft chuckle trickled from Jordan's lips. "That was so almost ten hours ago," she teased. "Come on, you're gonna miss it!"

Ordinarily, Emma was a morning person, like her Ma, but this morning, she was just downright exhausted. She rallied though, for Jordan's sake, and sat up, turning her body toward Jordan as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Leaning against Jordan then, she rested in the comfort of her embrace as they watched the brilliant light of morning break through the clouds, illuminating the sky, once again casting its golden hues across the horizon, obliterating the shadows of darkness.

"What a spectacular sunrise," Emma whispered in awe. Glancing toward Jordan, she sighed softly. "Thank you for waking me."

Jordan closed her eyes, and leaned her forehead against Emma's temple. "I'm glad I got to share it with you," she whispered. "For a minute there, I didn't think you were gonna get up with me."

"Short night after a long day," Emma commented.

Nodding, Jordan pulled her closer, laying them both down on the pallet again. When Emma didn't resist, she simply held her, gently stroking her hair. "Sleep for a while longer," she said quietly. "The Mom Quad won't expect us back until mid-morning."

With her last bit of awareness, Emma chuckled at the mention of their nickname for their collective mothers. "Not gonna argue," she murmured, already drifting off again to the sensation of Jordan's fingertips floating through her hair.

Time stood still then, Jordan holding her as she slept. Until finally, with great reluctance, she untangled her limbs from Emma's body. Covering her with the blanket, she slipped down the stairs into the galley, where she set about preparing breakfast for the two of them. Emma had created such a masterpiece for dinner last night, she figured the least she could do was ruin a few pancakes for her this morning.

And ruin, she did—with unparalleled skill.

Emma's next awareness was the sound of Jordan's voice, screaming for her, coupled with the irrefutable smell of smoke. And where there was smoke, there was fire. She'd learned that a long time ago when Natalia caught her playing with matches, and she'd nearly burned down their house. It was one of the few times she could recall her Ma ever raising her voice when she and her sisters were little. Once they were teenagers, all bets were off, but Natalia was mercifully calm—before they started doing stupid teenaged things.

The toxic combination of screaming and smoke had Emma on her feet in an instant. And in the next, she jumped the stairs all the way down to the galley, where she found a flaming skillet on the stove, and Jordan in an absolute panic, trembling from head to toe.

With no time to waste, Emma attempted to calm Jordan with promises that everything would be okay, as she sprang into action. Thinking on her feet, she jumped to the side and reached around, turning the burner off. And then she grabbed the fire extinguisher that was attached to the wall opposite the cooktop. Aiming the nozzle at the base of the fire, she pulled the pin, tossing it aside, and firmly squeezed the trigger, releasing the contents as she swept from side to side until the flames were obliterated and all that was left was the smoke.

The moment the flames were out, she set the extinguisher on the floor, and moved to Jordan, drawing her into the safety of her arms as she settled them on the sofa across from the dinette. Now that they were out of danger, Jordan was her only concern. It broke her heart to feel her trembling with such abject fear.

"I'm so sorry, Em. I don't know what happened," Jordan said, her voice quavering.

"Doesn't matter," Emma whispered. "All that matters is that you're safe."

Jordan nodded against Emma's chest. And then, secure in Emma's tight embrace, her fear turned to disappointment, and she began to cry. "You made me such an awesome dinner last night. All I was trying to do was make you breakfast."

"Shh, shh, shh… Everything's fine, Love," Emma gently shushed as she held her close, pressing tender kisses against her temple. "I wasn't that hungry anyway."

Jordan could feel the smile on Emma's lips as they pressed against her skin, and she relaxed. "Plus, we didn't have any bananas," she said, smiling through her tears.

"Banana pancakes!" they exclaimed in unison, and then they were laughing like children, as they clutched one another tightly.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," Jordan said ruefully.

Releasing her from their embrace, Emma took Jordan's face into her hands, meeting that still-teary gaze. "I'm just glad you're okay," she said softly. And then she smiled. "And thank you for burning me breakfast," she teased.

Jordan groaned. "Next time, maybe I should stick to cold cereal," she laughed.

"How about next time we do it together?" Emma suggested.

Pleased with the suggestion, Jordan smiled. "Everything is always better with you."

Emma couldn't help but smile as she looked into those sincere brown eyes. "Ditto," she whispered thinking, not for the first time, just exactly how true that really was.


The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 3:15 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"So that's what caused the scorch marks on the wall behind the stove," Bianca commented, one eyebrow raised at her eldest daughter. "I thought your Aunt Kendall was responsible," she said, winking at her sister. "Your dad never said a word."

"Hey, now…" Kendall intoned.

Bianca leveled her with a look. "You're the one who couldn't find your own kitchen," she accused, referring to Kendall's confusion when they first moved into their house.

"I only got lost once," Kendall insisted.

Jordan felt her face flush with embarrassment. "Daddy's always been a pretty good keeper of my secrets," she admitted. "Even when they weren't really secret from you and Mama."

"Zach has always been that way," Kendall said of her husband. "No drama, no bullshit. He forgives easily, loves and protects fiercely, and he's as loyal as they come—especially when it comes to his family."

"That's certainly the truth," Olivia agreed. He had been quick to forgive her when learning about Ethan, the son she'd placed for adoption when she thought Zach had died all those years ago.

Catching Jordan's gaze, Emma arched an eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you set that fire on purpose."

Jordan matched Emma's expression. "And why would I do that?" she challenged.

Emma grinned, her eyes twinkling. She said nothing, but Jordan understood completely.

Leaning back in her seat, a teasing grin played across Olivia's lips as she made eye contact with her daughter. "Well, while the two of you were out braving the high seas," she said, "we were back here waging bets about whether or not you'd hook up out there."

"Mom!" Emma exclaimed. She looked positively mortified.

"What?" Olivia feigned innocence. "Isn't that what you kids were calling casual sex back then?" she queried. "Hooking up?"

"It wasn't as sordid as it sounds," Natalia said, glancing around at the group of women.

"Emma and I have never done casual," Jordan said straightforwardly.

"At least not together," Emma added with a smirk that earned her an elbow nudge from her partner in crime.

Taylor arched a skeptical eyebrow. "After the stories you've told, you really expect us to believe you and Emma never had a fling?"

"Never," Jordan replied insistently. She glanced at Emma, pausing to take her in. "I've always known that if anything ever happened between us, it would be a forever thing."

Emma offered a tremulous smile. "Ditto."

"Yeah, I still don't think I'm buyin' that," Miah commented, her tone dubious.

"I think I'd believe Emma really was a Girl Scout before I'd believe that," Ashton commented. She knew without a doubt that it was true—Jordan told her everything—but she enjoyed teasing Emma.

The mention of scouting reminded Natalia of Olivia, and as the girls' banter continued, she couldn't help but smile to herself at the memory of Olivia trying to convince her she, herself, had once been a Girl Scout…


Olivia's Office, The Beacon—Friday, May 14, 2010, 8:15 a.m. Central Standard Time

"So what's on your agenda for this morning?" Olivia asked as she settled into her office chair, propping her feet up on the desk. She was hoping to entice Natalia to join her upstairs in their suite for a few hours before the day got too busy to sneak away.

"I have a conference contract to negotiate with Claire Davis from the Central Illinois Girl Scout Council," Natalia explained. "She called yesterday afternoon to book the main conference space and block about fifty rooms." Ordinarily, Jen would take care of such tasks, but she and Tracy were on their honeymoon. The boys were staying with Olivia and Natalia, hence Olivia's sense of urgency in getting Natalia alone for a few hours.

"Girl Scouts, huh?" Olivia sounded interested.

"Yep."

"I was a Girl Scout, you know," Olivia purred proudly.

Dark eyes slowly sized Olivia up, and then locked on that intense gaze. She rested her hands on her hips. "Somehow, I highly doubt that."

"What?" Olivia protested. "I'm always prepared, aren't I?" she flirted.

"Um, I think that's the Boy Scout motto, Honey," Natalia replied.

"Well, it's the Girl Scout one too," Olivia insisted. "Scout's honor." She held up her right hand, her first and middle fingers forming the peace sign as proof.

Frowning, Natalia gave her a skeptical look. "You were never really a Girl Scout, were you?" Even she knew that hand sign was missing a finger.

"No—," Olivia admitted with a sly grin. "Not for a minute. But I've eaten a lot of Girl Scout cookies, and I am always prepared."

"I won't argue either of those points," Natalia grinned.


The Cottage, Martha's Vineyard—Saturday, April 21, 2029, 3:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

"What are you grinning about?" Olivia asked, drawing Natalia from her reverie.

"Just remembering the morning you tried to prove to me you were a Girl Scout," Natalia said with a smirk. "You were definitely prepared to show me a good time…"

Suddenly all eyes were on them, ears perked for a story.

Olivia choked on her wine. "Cake, anyone?" she interjected before anyone could ask for details.


TBC in Chapter 8.2…