Page 45 of Love on the Main Stage
“What is that supposed to mean?” Betty asked.
“That it’s definitely lower-key. It’s a beautiful house, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just a house.”
“It’s not a palace. I promise you I’m not high-key. I’m a normal woman with?—”
“An estate?”
We both snickered, breaking the tension. The house was big and luxurious from what I’d seen but not more than those of some of my more successful industry friends. I relaxed slightly. I didn’t have to be anyone else right now.
I looked outside, spying a large building and arena in the distance. “And there are horses here?”
“They’re locked up for the night, but yes. If you were around longer, I’d introduce you. We have a bunch of Fjords who stay out year-round. They are fluffy ponies. I would dare you to resistthem.”
I imagined Betty playing in a field with fluffy ponies. I didn’t have to try too hard.
Feet weary, Betty sat on the bed and pulled off her heels while I tried to figure out where I fit in the moment. Did I join her? I gathered I could. I kicked my boots off and gazed into her eyes, deep blue in the low light. A slight smile curled around her lips. Her hand grazed mine, and I squeezed it.
I murmured. “I wanted you to stay in bed with me all day that morning. And then when I found out who you were… I just short-circuited.”
“Why? Because you found out who I was?” Betty dropped her gaze.
“Because of who you are, I know you cannot possibly date women and… darling, I am older than you. I cannot be stuck perpetually in the closet waiting for my not-girlfriend to come out.”
Betty shook her head. “I know it isn’t easy?—”
“Your family may be nice and all, but I don’t see how a royal can get away with being out.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s not much easier for the straights the more I think about it. Mary, I’ll figure it out. Norway isn’t the UK. They won’t clutch their pearls over a quick ass grab between two married people up here.”
I cocked my head.
“My brother got himself in trouble at a horse trials recently—all because he wanted to be sweet to Ingrid. We aren’t so prudish.”
I thought a moment. I knew the British press were dreadful and uptight, but also that the Scandinavian gossip rags could be harsh.
“Let’s hope I can survive this dress,” she joked, deflecting, “My personal secretary will shit a fucking brick over this tomorrow, but I wanted to see your reaction. I want to make you believe that I want you, Mary. And I want to believe you won’t hurt me.”
She squeezed my knee and settled her eyes on mine.
“I don’t know how,” I confessed. “Only time could prove that.”
She bit her lip. “You could start by getting me off.”
I chuckled nervously “You’re delicious in that dress and I am really struggling here. I want to believe this could all just be fine and you’re not?—”
She cut me off with a kiss that would have knocked me down if I wasn’t already seated. She kissed me harder, drawing me out and making me want to forget everything but this moment. As she ran her hand up my thigh, I pulled away. It was still unresolved. I could fuck her for an eternity, and it still wouldn’t remedy our issue.
“I, really, really shouldn’t,” I said. “Whatever this is?—”
She raised her eyebrows. “What this is… is something important. Do you want to hear that I don’t want to stay closeted? Will that help?”
I nodded.
“I don’t.” She kissed me again and I basked in it like never before.
Slowly, she chipped away at my fears.
Betty pulled back, nostrils flaring and eyes wide, “I am genuinely so hot for you, Mar. Like… Jesus Christ, I just want to fuck you. But like… for the sake of this whole stupid singing competition, I’m an official host. I cannot hook up with the talent.”
