Sonnet XVII (I do not love you...) by Pablo Neruda

As soon as Bridget had bolted from the apartment, Sarah ran to get dressed to follow her. That's when she realized that her portfolio of her upcoming spring collection had been opened and spread out on her table. There was no one else there but her and her protégeé. She remembered hearing a clicking noise when the woman left her side to get a drink of water.

"Did you…..?" Sarah asked horrified at the realization that the woman might have taken pictures. No one would dare open up the folder!

"I gotta go," the younger staff member said and with that, dashed out of the loft.

It had been the protegee's composure yet frantic texting that caught Bridget's attention. She had felt it in her bones – that the woman had done something bad to Sarah. She was so sure of it that when she saw Sarah come downstairs, she asked her what happened. Sarah told her what she had discovered about the sketches all askew, and Bridget sprang into action.

Bridget told the cab driver to head east – because that was the direction the thief took off in. She asked Sarah for the staff member's phone number. Sarah gave it to her and was trying to explain that she didn't care about the theft. What she really wanted was to talk to Bridget. She wanted to apologize.

Bridget held her phone in one hand and Sarah's hand in the other as they sat in the back of the cab. She was a woman who took care of business first, and right now, the business at hand was going to require a high level of technical skill. She was on the phone with the only person she knew who might be able to do this.

"Can you locate that phone? Great. And then can you …..extract …something…from that number," Bridget asked as the taxi sped along 14th Street going east. "If she forwarded the pictures, they could be anywhere by now," Bridget explained. "Sure, thanks."

"Who was that?" Eileen asked as Claudia pushed the pizza box away on the tiny kitchen table and placed her laptop down.

"Bridget Cummings. Seems some chick from Sarah's job might have some …photos….that need to be removed," Claudia explained as she tapped keys furiously.

"Pictures of them?" Eileen asked because she could tell by the phone conversation it was urgent.

"Worse, Bridget says. It's pictures of Sarah's next Spring clothing line," Claudia explained.

"Who would do such a thing?" Eileen asked and immediately knew how naïve that sounded.

"Apparently," Claudia said, pressing more keys, "…..this little fashionista," she said, turning the computer screen so Eileen could see who she was talking about. All the techie needed was one piece of identification like the girl's cell phone number and she could extract all kinds of data.

"What are you going to do?" Eileen asked, as she marveled at how quickly her girlfriend could access the data.

"First, I'm going to tell Bridget her exact location. Then I'm going to blow up her phone," Claudia said slowing, connecting to the woman's Wi-Fi service and uploading the program that would obliterate her pictures.

"You …don't mean …that's program talk, right?" Eileen asked.

"Bridget?" Claudia said, getting back on her phone. "It's done. All pictures taken or uploaded since this morning have been deleted. I left the tasteless photos of her naked butt on there. You got her location? Do you need backup? I can get Steve."

"No, that's fine. Can you send that picture you left to anyone she emailed in the last twenty-four hours? Great. I owe you one, Claudia. Thanks," Bridget said, and hung up. "Sarah," she said in a low voice leaning over. "I'm going to take care of this now."

"Bridget, it was foolish. I'm so sorry," Sarah said, realizing she cared more about the hurt she caused her lover than she did about her next line of clothes. "We need to talk," Sarah tried, tears falling down her face.

Bridget tripped into those puppy dog eyes daily, but seeing them flooded with tears was distracting her. "We will," Bridget said, wiping a tear and staying there to caress Sarah's cheek. "As soon as I come back."

The cab pulled over across the street from the address he had been given. Bridget told him to wait and handed him a hundred dollar bill.

"Bridget, you won't do anything foolish. She's a pawn, I'm sure," Sarah said, sure someone put the young woman up to it.

"Stay here," she said, getting out of the car and running across the street ahead of a group of six guys who were about to enter the bar. She was going to use them as her cover.

"Sorry," she said, batting her eyelashes and trying to get out of their way. Each one of them started talking to her. Dropping her large purse on the ground so that it would spill its contents, she bent down at the same time as the guys closest to her did. She lingered there, as they tried to pick up the contents of the purse. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest things," she said in her southern accent that men couldn't seem to resist. They eagerly held the door open and walked in with her.

Bridget's eyes scoured the bar until she found the woman sitting at the end by herself. She continued talking to the men as she walked to the bar, putting her back to her lover's nemesis. She engaged them in small talk as they ordered their drinks.

"Holy shit!" Bridget heard the young woman say as she frantically tried to access something on her phone.

"Give me a minute, boys," Bridget said as she turned away from them and looked at the culprit. "Problem with your phone?" she asked in a syrupy voice. The woman looked at Bridget trying to place her.

"Yeah," she said slowly as she tried to find the pictures she took.

"Maybe I can help?" Bridget said in a friendly tone.

"Do I know you?" the woman asked annoyed.

"You should. I'm the woman who is going to chew you up and spit you out for stealing from your boss," Bridget said. The woman froze in her seat staring back at the tall woman whose expression never appeared as threatening as her words.

"I never…. She gave …. They're gone," the inept thief settled on. "I don't even have them!"

"Yes, I know. I took them back," Bridget said, and purposely turned back to laugh at something the men were saying as if she were part of that conversation again. Multitasking was her forte. "Not even in your cloud," Bridget said, turning back and smiling.

The woman looked at Bridget still trying to place her. Were these guys her back up? "I'll tell you who wanted them," the woman said, pulling on Bridget's arm frantically.

Bridget looked down at the woman's hand on her arm and stared. The woman quickly removed her hand. "That's cashmere," Bridget said quietly of the soft blue material. "And there's no need to disclose your partner in crime. Right now he's wondering why you sent him pictures of yourself – naked," Bridget said.

"What? Oh my gawd, you're her girlfriend," the woman said, finally placing Bridget from seeing her at the office. "You're just angry because she cheated on you," the girl spat across the bar.

Bridget turned her head slowly to face her accuser and leaned in a little and said calmly - "Sweetie, if I were angry, you'd be wetting your cheap faux leather pants right now."

With that, the woman's phone rang and she turned away to take the call. "I had them. I was about to send them. Not that picture. I don't know how you got that," she said into her phone. "What did you do?" she said, slamming the phone down as her chance at recognition slipped away.

"Me? I took back what was your boss'. What you should be worried about is what I'm going to do next," Bridget shared, amused and accepting a beer from one of her new friends.

"What the fuuu…," the woman asked angrily.

"Let me save you the trouble. I'm going to mention this whole thing to a friend of mine. Someone who is so well connected in the fashion business, the designers beg her to wear their clothes. Then she's going to make some calls and your sorry little ass won't be hired ever again in this industry," Bridget said.

The young woman sat there stunned. She had been an easy mark for the competitor. He saw her at one of the many social gatherings and plied her with drinks until she spilled what she knew about Sarah. He remarked how such a talented person was having her talents go to waste and that at his studio, she would already be designing. She took the bait. He wanted to see Sarah's upcoming clothing line. He didn't care how she got the pictures. The twenty year old came up with that on her own. She was waiting for Sarah that day to pick up the wedding dresses. She found her crying hysterically. She sat on the couch with Sarah and comforted her. The whole time, the plan on how to get pictures of the portfolio played out in her head. She leaned in and kissed Sarah – told her how brilliant she was, how she admired her. At first, Sarah rejected her advances, but the plan was set in motion and the younger woman wouldn't let up. All the time that she was feeding Sarah compliments, she was edging her towards the loft.

Sarah couldn't think. She was so upset with what had happened with Bridget, so mad at herself, that this junior staff member was offering her the perfect distraction. And Sarah took it. The frantic pace at which the younger woman stroked and devoured Sarah had little to do with her passion and more to do with wanting to get at the portfolio. Sarah had lain there exhausted, having made the quick descent from exciting to disheartened in record time. Her spontaneous lover excused herself to go to the kitchen for water, and while Sarah rolled over in bed, filled with regret, her guest pulled out the pictures and snapped away. She had returned to Sarah just as Bridget had been arriving in the elevator.

Now Sarah sat there in the back of the cab, waiting for Bridget and hoping she would listen to her when she returned.

Inside the bar, Bridget had accomplished what she had set out to do. She turned and thanked her newly found friends, who were sorry to see her go. Content that the woman would receive justice for her part and certain that Claudia could trace that phone call to the perpetrator, Bridget returned to the cab. She went to Sarah's side of the car and motioned for her to lower the window. Then she leaned in.

"It's all taken care of. The pictures were deleted before she could send them. As far as I know, they're nowhere, except back at your place. Lock them up, Sarah. Your recent fame is going to come with a price," Bridget warned her.

Sarah put her hand on Bridget's arm. She had spent that time alone in the cab taking in what was going on. How could she have been so impulsive? So stupid? "Please Bridget, get back in the car."

"I don't think so, Sarah," Bridget said, standing erect so the tears wouldn't fall. She could never refuse Sarah anything when looking into those smoky green eyes.

Sarah pressed her hand down harder. "Please Bridget."

Bridget took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. "No, Sarah, go home. I'm sorry if I didn't give you what you needed. Maybe you need time to figure it out."

Bridget knocked on the window for the driver to leave and stood back as he slowly took off. She turned, so as not to see the car pulling away and walked in the opposite direction. The intake of cold air started to hurt her chest as she pulled her coat up against the wind. Her chest started to heave in and out with the first cry she allowed to come forward.

"Oh fuck!" she admonished herself for not being able to hold the tears at bay any longer. She searched in her bag for a tissue and finally found one and wiped a tear stained cheek. Her plan was to walk to the next avenue and get a cab uptown. She didn't hear it at first – the sound of spiked heels hitting the pavement at a fast pace.

"BRIDGET!" she heard her lover's voice and turned.

There was Sarah, running up the block, the cabbie in the distance, annoyed that he had close the door that Sarah left open when she yelled at him to stop and got out. She was completely out of breath by the time she reached Bridget. Sarah threw her hands on Bridget's arms and bent over trying to take in enough oxygen. "I…..was…stupid," Sarah said with long pauses in-between the words.

"Breathe," Bridget said, holding Sarah's hands now. Sarah had the sexiest saunter Bridget had ever seen on a woman. It took her minutes to walk the length of the apartment and apparently this was the first time in ages, she moved at anything faster than that gait.

Sarah raised her head. "I'm… emotional. I'm…. sensitive. I'm not overly confident sometimes, Bridge, but I'm not broken," Sarah finally got out.

"What?" Bridget asked of the speech.

Sarah took another long breath before she spoke. "I was wrong. I'm not in your shadow, Bridget. It's just that you're larger than life sometimes," Sarah explained. "You don't think twice about rushing into that bar to help me. You just take care of things on your own. It's like you don't have ….flaws….like the rest of us. It's intimidating. And I wasn't ready for your question and I got scared. I screwed up. But I know that I want us, Bridget. I want us."

"You had us. You threw it away," Bridget said because it was the first thing that came into her mind.

"Please Bridget. I'm sorry. I messed up. I didn't come downstairs to get the pictures back. I came down to get you," Sarah said, trying to breathe steadily.

Bridget looked down into eyes that conveyed how sorry Sarah was. "I screwed up," Sarah repeated more softly, her words forming the cold mist of her breath. "Please forgive me, Bridget."

"It's my fault," Bridget confessed. "I got caught up in the wedding and jumped the gun. If I hadn't done that, none of this would have happened."

Sarah frowned and grabbed Bridget's forearms and shook her. "Bridget, you're not to blame here. You asked me to marry you and I acted like a jerk! I've already been robbed once. Don't take away that I have to take responsibility for my own mistakes ," Sarah said straight forwardly.

Bridget wanted to say something, but stopped herself. She listened to what Sarah said and knew there was something to it. Hadn't she just compared the woman to a broken-winged bird, the kind she saved as a kid? Sarah didn't want to be rescued; she wanted to be Bridget's equal.

"You're right," Bridget said. Then the gleam that always made Sarah smile, returned to the banker's bright blue eyes. "You're totally at fault here. You suck, really. The worst girlfriend ever."

"Okay, okay, I got it," Sarah said, pushing into the body she loved to be next to. It was the smile that Sarah saw that assured her Bridget was willing to give her a chance. "Can you forgive me?" Sarah asked, looking up at her.

"I can," Bridget said, because she never labored over decisions about affairs of the heart. It just wasn't her… style.

Bridget knew Sarah had made a mistake and that Bridget had made a few of her own over the years. She believed she and Sarah could get past this. She wanted that very much.

Claudia sat with her feet up on the couch after making sure no social media site contained any of the photos. The reverse look up of the number the employee-turned-thief texted was to a competitor whose name was about to make headlines – for all the wrong reasons.

"All taken care of?" Eileen asked, as she placed a plate of chicken and rice on the coffee table for her girlfriend.

"Yep," Claudia said, placing the laptop down in front of them.

"Well, spies need their energy, too, so please eat," Eileen said, handing her the plate. The two sat in the small apartment, knees touching the coffee table, as they ate dinner.

"What is that?" Eileen asked, looking down at the computer screen.

Claudia leaned forward and looked down. "What the frak?" the techie asked as she put her plate down and grabbed the computer.

"What is it?" Eileen asked.

"Look," Claudia said and showed her the screen. The window showed a map of streets in Manhattan with a blinking light in the shape of footprints walking to an address.

"What is that?" Eileen asked.

"That is Sam Martino," Claudia said of the map that was attached to the internal tracking device.

"Isn't he in Washington?" Eileen asked, putting her plate down.

"According to this, he's on the upper West Side and he's entering ….," Claudia said, typing the address into another program. "Holy weird friendships."

"What is it?" Eileen asked.

"He's going to the apartment of Ted Grayson," Claudia said slowly. "We should tell the boss."

"No," Eileen said, thinking about their options. "We're going to handle this."

Myka asked Helena to wait outside on the patio that afternoon. Helena did as she was asked and gazed out on the water in the distance. This was the perfect honeymoon, she thought. No one around except staff that arrived early in the morning and prepared the meals for the day. That left the newlyweds to be alone on the island for the rest of the day – something both of them were enjoying very much.

Inside the kitchen, Myka took out all of the paraphernalia that she packed to make Helena's tea. Speaking Eileen's careful instructions in a whisper, Myka repeated the steps exactly as she had been shown. Outside, Helena waited, hoping that perhaps Myka was going to come out and show off a new outfit. Or show off no outfit at all. In spite of the fact that they were completely alone, Helena had yet to convince Myka that they could walk around au natural and be perfectly safe.

Minutes later, after the tea had steeped for exactly three minutes and nineteen seconds, Myka appeared with the tray.

"What is this?" Helena smiled, grateful for Myka's efforts. She sat up straight in the chair at the table where Myka put the tray down.

"Try this," Myka said with an unusual amount of enthusiasm.

"O….kay," Helena said, unsure of why Myka felt the need to try her hand again at tea making. Perhaps it was that 'for better or for worse' message implied in their vows. Myka's wasn't the worst tea. That distinction belonged to Leena.

Myka took one of the teacups and placed it in front of Helena as she sat down.

"Afternoon tea. How very thoughtful of you," Helena said and noticed Myka nodding her head to try it.

Helena took the cup, put it to her lips, and smiled, trying to convey she liked it already. She watched the anticipation grow in the jade pools watching her intently. Something was new – something was different and now Helena was left to guess what it was. She sipped and noticed the taste immediately – as only an Englishwoman would. A large scale grin appeared on Myka's face and her head kept bobbing.

"Darling, this is ….," Helena started and Myka jumped in with the answer.

"Right?" Myka asked and Helena nodded. "Can you taste it?" she asked enthusiastically.

Of course Helena could taste it. She was drinking it. But what exactly did Myka mean by it, she wondered. Helena savored tea the way some people savored wine before deciding if they liked it.

"It's very….," Helena started and jumped a little when Myka leaned forward and say…."Good? Is it good?"

Now Helena had already lectured the world on the difference between an American calling tea 'good' and an Englishwoman calling tea 'good' and the gradations were worlds apart. Myka's excitement meant something else.

"Is there something different about it?" Helena probed. "I mean, I know you made it, but …."

"Yes! It was our wedding gift!" Myka said enthusiastically.

"Gift?" Helena said, sipping it again because Myka motioned for her to do so.

Truth be told, the tea was good. Helena couldn't put her finger on it, but it did taste familiar. It was much better than Myka's usual cup of tea. She was certain she had tasted it before, but where? One morning, at the townhouse…..but her thought was interrupted.

"Eileen showed me how to make it!" Myka confessed, and now her shoulders went up and her hands clasped to show her excitement.

Synapses fired in Helena's head. Her cortex immediately pulled the – "She what?" question from her choices. Helena's limbic system went into spasms with emotional turmoil. Did this mean the only woman who could make an excellent cup of tea wasn't going to make it anymore? Maybe she could get used to drinking this. Even if it wasn't perfection, it was still good tea. Yes, that is exactly what she would do! Appreciating that Eileen would bestow her knowledge upon Myka and that Myka would make such a gallant effort is what really mattered.

"This is really very good," Helena said enjoying the third sip even more because of the sheer excitement in Myka's expression.

"Really?" Myka asked happily. "I did exactly as Eileen said. She takes this very seriously, you know," Myka said, tasting the tea herself.

"As she should," Helena said and meant it. "And thank you for doing this. I do so appreciate it," Helena said, leaning over and kissing Myka's smiling lips.

Myka knew that Helena could tell the difference. She didn't expect to get it exactly like Eileen's. Her goal was to make it good enough that Helena wouldn't feel as if the end of civilization as they knew it was about to happen.

Helena sipped the tea, this time with the knowledge of how much effort Myka put in to making it. Maybe that was the ingredient that made it so good. Helena took in how much it meant to Myka to please her with this simple act. Helena's heart swelled with emotion to think how fortunate she was that Myka would do this for her.

"Thank you, Myka," Helena said, finishing the tea and putting the cup down.

"For the tea?" Myka asked, excited that it went well.

"For the tea ...," Helena said, leaning in closer. "And for being you." Helena saw the blush come to Myka's cheeks over the compliment.

"I want to do things that make you happy," Myka said pleased to have made a good cup of tea.

"The love of my life needs only to breathe to make my heart rise with joy," Helena recited.

"HG Wells?" Myka asked of the unfamiliar verse.

"HG Bering-Wells," Helena answered.