It didn’t matter. Annie didn’t have to be true to Kristin’s character in this particular fantasy, although aspects of it were most certainly part of the reason Annie had trouble getting her off her mind. Annie put Kristin in a tasteful bikini and she imagined her diving in, all grace, barely a spatter of water jumping up from the surface. She imagined them swimming side by side, and Kristin being impressed by Annie’s strong strokes. Something unsaid—perhaps because it was so unspeakable—passing between them, and then the quick walk to the changing rooms, filled with anticipation.

No.

Annie stopped the fantasy right there. That was as far as she was willing to go. She’d gone far enough already. She wasn’t here to dream of Kristin. She was here to swim. Then she thought about the upcoming dinner they had at Kristin and Sheryl’s on Friday night, and she didn’t know whether to look forward to it or dread it.

“You’re going to do what?” Annie asked. She’d just arrived back at the shop and Jane had sat there smirking in the most peculiar way before delivering the news of the book signing, which would take place next week. Jane was usually the type to only plan things if she had at least a month to prepare—and fret—over them.

“And here I was expecting you to be pleased,” Jane said, still sporting a grin.

“Oh, I am. Don’t mistake my confusion for anything less than being utterly pleased. I’m just a tad surprised.”

“Good to hear I can still surprise you after all these years.” Jane drew her lips into a pout. “I didn’t sell many books.”

“No Jane Quinn fans about on a Thursday afternoon?”

“It must be the day they all stay in to read.”

Annie scooted closer to her wife, curved an arm around her waist and pulled her near. A twinge of guilt tore through her for allowing herself that fantasy in the pool. Jane seemed to be in a chipper mood. Maybe she should say something after closing time. They’d promised each other honesty and, most of all, understanding about these things. It didn’t have to be much of a problem, just something that happened to people in a long-term relationship. And perhaps talking about her attraction to Kristin would take away some of its power, like they said in some of the self-help books Annie stocked. But Annie didn’t know how to start this particular conversation. Not just yet. Perhaps by the time she did, she’d be long over this silly infatuation.

“I’m so glad you and Mia are getting along,” Annie said.

“She’s a sweet talker, that one.” Jane didn’t give any indication of wanting to flee the shop and start on her late-afternoon writing session. “Maybe we should have her and Lou over for dinner some time.”