Summary:
Annie Slocum is a bisexual woman struggling to make a living as a freelance writer. Stuck in a rut, she feels bored with her career, her relationships—her life. A chance meeting with SiobhĆ”n at a gallery adds a bright spark to her dull life.
SiobhĆ”n Murray is a lesbian Irish painter living in Boston. She loves her career, loves her life, but she’s missing the one piece that will make her life complete—a partner. She falls hard for Annie and is delighted to realize Annie inspires her work. But a string of failed relationships has left her wary of bisexual women and wondering if she can trust that Annie won’t leave her.
When SiobhĆ”n’s past comes back to haunt them, they’ll have to decide if the new relationship is something that will burn bright and end quickly or if it’s meant to last.
Summary:
When SiobhĆ”n Murray gets a call from a neighbor saying her estranged father, Patrick, has been admitted to a hospital after a serious heart attack, she’s desperate to get to Ireland. Her girlfriend, Annie Slocum, books the first possible flight to Dublin for both of them.
Despite their difficult relationship, SiobhƔn wants to help her father, so she and Annie move in with him during his recovery. Although Annie loves SiobhƔn and Ireland, and wants to be supportive, she feels out of place and disconnected from SiobhƔn.
Patrick hasn’t been the same since his wife’s death fifteen years ago, and it takes time and patience for SiobhĆ”n and him to work through their issues.
Things slowly begin to improve as Annie figures out a way to expand her Boston-based blog to include some Irish content, and SiobhĆ”n’s spark of creativity re-ignites after lying dormant for more than a year.
But there’s one more hurdle they must overcome, and that decision will shape their entire future.
Original Review August 2017:
Annie Slocum is a struggling writer who happens to be bisexual and is seriously lacking in inspiration, on all fronts. SiobhƔn Murray is an Irish lesbian painter who is happy on all fronts but one, love. When they meet, more than inspiration sparks, but will it be enough to fan the flames?
It's no secret that I am a huge fan of Brigham Vaughn's work, so when she told me she was starting a F/F romance series, I knew I had to read it. Followers of my reviews have probably noticed that M/M is my favorite genre but that I really don't have a prescribed comfort zone. I like everything! Sure I have my favorite tropes and genres but I am not beyond reading those that may not be my norm. Having said that, my familiarity with F/F is limited but not non-exsistent so when I say A Brighter Palette is an amazing read and incredible portrayal of love, I am not exaggerating.
Before I touch on Annie and SiobhƔn I have to make mention of one of my favorite TV ships being a relationship between a gay man and bisexual man and how the fandom perceives some of the writers as bi-phobic because they feel it should be all roses and rainbows without problems. I don't feel they're being bi-phobic in how they are writing the gay man wrapping his brain around the bisexual man finding him to be enough, it can be a real issue for some in the LGBT community and it is a fictional soap opera afterall. But as in every facet of the fiction spectrum, its in the eye of the beholder.
Now, I said all that about my TV ship because I feel that Brigham Vaughn has also shown that Annie's bisexuality is a bit of an issue, not in a bi-phobic way but because SiobhƔn's past relationship has made her weary and gun-shy but it doesn't make me not want to shake SiobhƔn any less for her way of thinking and some of the words she uses. Brigham deals with this in a believable and yet entertaining fashion. I say "entertaining" not because its roses and rainbows from beginning to end but because it kept me intrigued even when I was upset with SiobhƔn. I love how their artistic sides mesh with their personal sides, sometimes all that is needed to get the fire started is a common spark. A Brighter Palette is just an all-around enjoyable read that will break your heart one minute and heal it the next but most importantly Brigham has left me hungry for the next installment.
The Greenest Isle #2
Original Review June 2019:
I'm embarrassed to admit that I had no idea how close Brigham Vaughn was to releasing The Greenest Isle, her sequel to A Brighter Palette. Once I saw it was out(and luckily for me it was on release day that it came to my attention) I went and 1-clicked it and set down to read almost immediately. I wish I could say I read it in one sitting but life gets in the way and I was interrupted. HOWEVER, it kept pulling me back every free minute I found and though reading books like that isn't my way-of-choice I couldn't help it, I just couldn't wait till I had a free half hour. So at times it was a bit "choppy" for me but that was down to my only reading a couple pages at time occasionally and not the author's writing style.
I want to start off by saying for those looking for full-on heat and lots of it might be a bit disappointed. Don't get me wrong what's there is definitely WOW! but there isn't an overabundance of heat-ness but that's okay. For me, sometimes a story is even better written that way, as the saying goes "less is more" and in the case of Annie and Siobhan I found it to be just right. Considering everything that is being dealt with its understandable that Siobhan's passionate side has cooled a bit.
As someone who has been the primary 24/7 caregiver to a parent for the better part of the past 25 years, I completely understand how it can change a person's life as well as those close to them and I didn't have to travel to another country on top of it. Perhaps it is my role as my mother's caregiver that helped me bond with Siobhan and not so much with Annie in regards to her feeling, well I hate to use the term neglected but left out or shut out at times. Caregiving is a 24/7 job, it is all consuming and when you have the kind of focus that Siobhan has its completely understandable how she puts everything into helping her dad. Just because I relate more to Siobhan in The Greenest Isle doesn't mean I don't sympathize at times with Annie, after all her life has been flipped on its side, I just bonded more to Siobhan.
Watching these two navigate this newest leg of their journey is a real treat that isn't always easy. Caregiving is often used in fiction but more times than not its in small doses and not as life-changing or life-altering as Brigham Vaughn has done in Greenest, the whole moving to Ireland bit isn't exactly an everyday scenario. You can tell when an author has some degree of personal experience with caregiving because Miss Vaughn has tackled it and then managed to balance it with the ongoing romantic relationship that doesn't come from just research. As a caregiver, that part of the story is greatly appreciated.
Now you might think because I concentrated so much on Siobhan's caring for her dad that that is all the story is about but its not, there is so much more to Greenest its just that element really stuck with me. I don't think HEA is ever 100% guaranteed in life and that no matter how happy a couple is there is always work needed to be put into the relationship. This is one of those hurdles that requires patience and determination to further their HEA and Brigham Vaughn balances it all absolutely perfectly with realism that made The Greenest Isle a reading pleasure. If you loved A Brighter Palette than you'll enjoy this as well and if you haven't read Brighter yet, now is the perfect time to jump in.
I want to start off by saying for those looking for full-on heat and lots of it might be a bit disappointed. Don't get me wrong what's there is definitely WOW! but there isn't an overabundance of heat-ness but that's okay. For me, sometimes a story is even better written that way, as the saying goes "less is more" and in the case of Annie and Siobhan I found it to be just right. Considering everything that is being dealt with its understandable that Siobhan's passionate side has cooled a bit.
As someone who has been the primary 24/7 caregiver to a parent for the better part of the past 25 years, I completely understand how it can change a person's life as well as those close to them and I didn't have to travel to another country on top of it. Perhaps it is my role as my mother's caregiver that helped me bond with Siobhan and not so much with Annie in regards to her feeling, well I hate to use the term neglected but left out or shut out at times. Caregiving is a 24/7 job, it is all consuming and when you have the kind of focus that Siobhan has its completely understandable how she puts everything into helping her dad. Just because I relate more to Siobhan in The Greenest Isle doesn't mean I don't sympathize at times with Annie, after all her life has been flipped on its side, I just bonded more to Siobhan.
Watching these two navigate this newest leg of their journey is a real treat that isn't always easy. Caregiving is often used in fiction but more times than not its in small doses and not as life-changing or life-altering as Brigham Vaughn has done in Greenest, the whole moving to Ireland bit isn't exactly an everyday scenario. You can tell when an author has some degree of personal experience with caregiving because Miss Vaughn has tackled it and then managed to balance it with the ongoing romantic relationship that doesn't come from just research. As a caregiver, that part of the story is greatly appreciated.
Now you might think because I concentrated so much on Siobhan's caring for her dad that that is all the story is about but its not, there is so much more to Greenest its just that element really stuck with me. I don't think HEA is ever 100% guaranteed in life and that no matter how happy a couple is there is always work needed to be put into the relationship. This is one of those hurdles that requires patience and determination to further their HEA and Brigham Vaughn balances it all absolutely perfectly with realism that made The Greenest Isle a reading pleasure. If you loved A Brighter Palette than you'll enjoy this as well and if you haven't read Brighter yet, now is the perfect time to jump in.
RATING:
A Brighter Palette #1
Chapter One
June
“Pretentious twat, isn’t he?” The words were harsh, but the lilt of an Irish accent softened them.
Annie Slocum glanced over her shoulder to see a slim, dark-haired woman smiling at her. Annie pressed her hand to her chest as if that would somehow slow her suddenly racing heart. She wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t noticed someone standing behind her or because the person in question was so stunning.
She wore a fitted black dress that hugged her subtle curves, and the long sweep of her hair was nearly as dark as the fabric she wore, a beautiful contrast to her creamy skin. Annie was so absorbed in the lilt of her accent and her beauty that it took her a moment to put the pieces together. The words finally registered, and Annie figured out who on earth she was calling a pretentious twat.
“Who? Uh, Gabriel?” Annie asked, clearing her throat and hoping the other woman hadn’t noticed her too-long pause. Gabriel Quinn, the gallery owner, had been droning on about the color and composition of a nearby piece the entire time Annie had been standing there. All while wearing a vintage-looking suit and fedora. On top of his habit of being an insufferable bore, it was a good bet that was whom the woman was talking about.
She nodded. “Yes. Gabriel likes to hear himself talk. He sells my paintings, so I can’t complain much, but he’s always goin’ on about the deeper meaning where there is none.”
Stunned, Annie turned to face her fully. “You’re SiobhĆ”n Murray.”
The Quinn Gallery in the Charlestown area of Boston had put together a show of local, female artists. Annie had begun to think the night was a wash until SiobhĆ”n’s work caught her eye. She’d spent a while lingering over her paintings.
“I am.” A smile quirked up the corners of her lush mouth. “I’m impressed that you pronounced it correctly.”
SiobhƔn was a challenge for American tongues, but the lilting of an Irish voice saying Shi-vonne sounded so beautiful.
“Oh, I spent a semester in Dublin in college,” Annie explained. “I met several SiobhĆ”ns there.”
“Well, that explains it.” They exchanged smiles.
“Ann Slocum.” She held out her hand.” Or Annie, if you prefer.”
“Annie.” Her name rolled off SiobhĆ”n’s tongue in a way that sent a shiver up her spine. “And a Slocum at that. English heritage?”
“Yes. Hopefully, you won’t hold that against me.”
SiobhĆ”n laughed. “I try not to let national rivalries get in the way of talking with a beautiful woman. Well, except for rugby. You don’t root for the English rugby team, do you?”
“I don’t root for anyone. I don’t watch any sports at all unless I’m forced to,” Annie explained with a smile. She was starting to think she and SiobhĆ”n might bat for the same team, however. The compliment and heady eye contact hadn’t gone unnoticed.
SiobhĆ”n stepped closer. “So what brings you to my showing?”
“Oh, I got an invitation from Gabriel. He knows I like art and try to support local female artists.”
SiobhĆ”n tilted her head. “You know Gabriel personally then?”
“We go way back.” Annie’s laugh was a touch uncomfortable. She never really knew how to explain her relationship with Gabriel.
An odd expression crossed SiobhĆ”n’s face. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have run my mouth off then.”
Chuckling, Annie waved off SiobhĆ”n’s concern. “Oh, I’m certainly not about to go tattling to him about what you said. It isn’t my style, and we aren’t that close. We went to school together, and he dated my roommate at the time. Gabriel and I stayed acquaintances. He’s a nice enough guy, just pretentious.”
“We’re in agreement about Gabriel then.” Her laugh was throaty, and the timbre sent a tingle through Annie. Damn. It had been a long time since she’d found a woman this attractive. SiobhĆ”n tilted her head toward the canvas Annie had been examining. “What do you think of it?”
“I love it,” Annie answered honestly, turning to look at the piece again. It was a painting of a woman in profile with rainbow washes of color and an intriguing crackle technique. Now that she’d met the artist, Annie realized it was a self-portrait.
SiobhĆ”n’s upper arm pressed against hers as they stood there in silence for a moment. Annie suppressed a shudder at the contact. Summers in Boston were usually quite warm, and SiobhĆ”n’s dress and Annie’s shirt were both sleeveless. SiobhĆ”n’s bare skin was soft and cool from the over-air-conditioned gallery.
“In the market for art?” SiobhĆ”n’s tone was light, but it occurred to Annie that the attention could be because SiobhĆ”n was hoping to sell her work. Perhaps the flirtatious looks had been nothing but a sales tactic. The thought left Annie feeling strangely deflated, but she plastered a smile on her face and answered honestly.
“I’m afraid not. Your work is worth far more than a journalist’s salary would allow.”
“Oh! You aren’t here to critique the show, are you?”
“No. I’m not an art critic. I do freelance work for various sites. Mostly fluff pieces. It’s a far cry from the investigative reporting I studied in college, but it pays the bills.” More or less, Annie thought. “My interest in art is entirely amateur.”
“I’d love to hear more about what you think of it. No pressure, but I’m quite curious.” If SiobhĆ”n had been flirting with Annie to make a sale or get a good review, learning that Annie would be no use to her would have been her cue to leave, but to Annie’s surprise and pleasure, she didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
Annie studied the painting for a few moments. “At first glance, it seems vibrant, but the colors are actually rather subdued. Deep, but not bright. She, well, you”—Annie corrected—“seems contemplative. Not sad, exactly, but like you’re lost in thought.”
“You have a good eye,” SiobhĆ”n said with a smile.
“The crackle technique is interesting too,” Annie commented. “I’m curious though; does it have a deeper meaning?”
“Not particularly; I was just experimenting with new ideas. It doesn’t represent ‘my crumbling self-esteem’ like Gabriel suggested when I first showed the piece to him.”
“No wonder you called him a pretentious twat,” Annie murmured. They exchanged wry grins. “So that little smudge of red there”—Annie traced her finger in the air over the spot on the painting—“doesn’t have deeper meaning either?”
SiobhĆ”n snorted delicately. “Hardly. I probably just needed to add a bit of color for contrast or balance and happened to have red on my brush at the time.”
Annie’s laugh was genuine. She loved art—always had—but she’d met a few too many artists in her life to believe all the pompous bullshit some of them spouted. She’d found that the ones who spoke the most about their own art had the least to say about anything else in life.
“Would you like to grab a drink?” SiobhĆ”n laid a hand on Annie’s arm. She had to suppress another shiver. “I’d like to talk to you more.”
“Here?” Annie glanced around the bright, contemporary space. There were wait staff wandering the gallery with drinks and appetizers, but it wasn’t ideal for having a conversation.
“There’s a hotel next door.” Annie’s surprise must have shown on her face because SiobhĆ”n’s smile widened. “With an excellent restaurant and bar. Have you eaten? I haven’t had a thing since lunch.”
“I had a light dinner a few hours ago,” Annie admitted. “But I could have another bite. Should you leave your show before it’s over though?”
“Probably not.” SiobhĆ”n sighed. “I’m trying to decide how much I care right now.”
Annie glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist. “It’s supposed to wrap up at nine, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s less than half an hour. Why don’t you finish up here? I’ll take a final look around the gallery while you wait,” Annie offered.
“You don’t mind?” SiobhĆ”n’s glance was searching.
“Not at all.”
“If you finish before I’m done, you can always head over to the lounge. I can meet you there.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Annie said, catching SiobhĆ”n’s gaze.
“I am too,” she said huskily. “Very much.”
***
It was nearly nine-thirty when SiobhĆ”n flew into the hotel lounge, breathless and apologetic. “I am terribly sorry, Annie. I’m so relieved to see you’re still here. I was afraid you’d left.”
Annie had been less than five minutes from paying her tab and leaving. She smiled at SiobhĆ”n. “I was contemplating it, but I’m glad I stayed.”
SiobhƔn unwound a crimson scarf from around her throat and dropped it and a black leather purse onto the far side of the circular booth before sliding in next to Annie.
“I’d love to blame it on Gabriel.”
Annie chuckled. “Is he to blame?”
SiobhĆ”n’s blue eyes sparkled. “He is, but it was for a good cause. He introduced me to a couple interested in commissioning a piece. I rarely work on commission, but this sounds very intriguing. I may pursue it. I hope you’ll forgive me. I hated to keep you waiting.”
Annie smiled at her. “I can hardly complain about an artist making a potential sale at her own gallery show.”
SiobhĆ”n waved off her comment, her amber bracelet sliding down her slim forearm. “Still, me ma raised me better than that. I’m glad you stayed. It occurred to me I didn’t have your mobile number to let you know I was running late.” “Is that your subtle way of asking for my number?” There was a flirtatious note to Annie’s voice that she hardly recognized. God, she’d been in a rut lately. She’d forgotten how much fun flirting was.
SiobhĆ”n propped her left elbow on the table, put her chin on her hand, and leaned in. “Haven’t I already made it clear how interested I am?” She skimmed the fingertips of her right hand along Annie’s forearm.
The touch raised gooseflesh on Annie’s arms, and she again suppressed a shiver. “I wanted to be sure.”
SiobhĆ”n leaned even closer, her lips barely brushing the shell of Annie’s ear. “If I haven’t made it crystal clear, I am very interested in you, Annie Slocum.” She continued stroking Annie’s arm, her fingertips tracing little patterns as she moved toward the inside of Annie’s wrist. Hyperaware of SiobhĆ”n’s touch, she let her eyes drift shut. She held her breath as SiobhĆ”n’s thumb rubbed the sensitive spot. “I want to get to know you. Every single bit of you.”
Someone delicately cleared their throat, and Annie’s eyes flew open to see the waitress standing near the table. “Is there anything I can get you? Another white wine, ma’am?”
“Oh, uh.” Annie glanced at her empty wineglass, flustered. “Yes, please.”
“And for you?” She looked at SiobhĆ”n.
“Coffee, please. With a shot of Tullamore Dew if you have it, please. Bushmills Black, if you don’t.”
“We do carry the Tullamore. An appetizer or a dessert to go along with it perhaps?”
Annie shook her head.
“I’ll just nibble on what’s here if Annie doesn’t mind,” SiobhĆ”n said.
“No, no, of course not.” Annie wondered if the innuendo had been intentional. “I got it for both of us.” Truthfully, she’d been so nervous about SiobhĆ”n arriving, she’d barely managed a few bites of the cheese plate she’d ordered.
“I’ll be back shortly with your drinks then.” The waitress disappeared.
Although SiobhĆ”n hadn’t removed her hand from Annie’s wrist while the waitress was there, she let go now and reached for a cracker. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t usually lose track of my surroundings so thoroughly,” she admitted. “But I’m not sorry I did.”
SiobhĆ”n brushed her fingertips against Annie’s honey-blonde hair where it draped across her shoulder. “You’re out then?”
Annie laughed. “Oh, I came out as bi in college. Which is longer ago than I like to admit.”
SiobhĆ”n’s mouth turned down at the corners as she frowned. “You’re bisexual?”
“Yes.” Annie raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
SiobhĆ”n hesitated. “I’ve had a few less than great experiences with bi women, unfortunately.”
“And I’ve had a few less than great experiences with lesbian women who look down on me for being bi,” Annie said calmly. Her heart sank. How many times was she going to have to go through this? How many times would she think things were going great with a woman, only to have her hopes dashed when the truth came out?
The furrow on SiobhĆ”n’s brow smoothed out. “I suppose we all have our baggage, don’t we?” Her tone was light, and she resumed toying with the ends of Annie’s hair.
“I suppose we do.” Annie smiled at her. Well, maybe her identity was a minor bump in the road instead of a full barrier. She could live with that. She shifted in her seat to look SiobhĆ”n in the eye. God, she was beautiful.
“You’re a journalist, you said?”
“Yes, but mostly freelance these days,” Annie said ruefully. “The newspaper business isn’t exactly booming. Most of the bigger papers are cutting back. And truthfully, by the time I got out of college, I was pretty disillusioned with the field. Freelance work can be very hit or miss. Sometimes I enjoy the topic I’m writing about. Sometimes I don’t. It’s feast or famine with my income. I love the flexibility of my schedule but there are certainly no traditional benefits like health insurance or a retirement plan.”
SiobhĆ”n made a face and reached for a chunk of cheese. “There’s a lot to be said for this country, but you have a strange obsession with self-sufficiency. Even to your own detriment.”
“Tell me about it,” Annie agreed. She opened her mouth to continue, but the waitress appeared with their drinks.
“Please, excuse the delay. The coffee was old, so I had them brew a fresh pot.”
SiobhĆ”n smiled at her. “Thanks, love.”
Annie received her wine with a smile and thank you, but once the waitress was gone, she turned back to SiobhĆ”n. “So, tell me more about your art. I’m fascinated.”
“What would you like to know?”
“How did you get started?”
“Oh, growing up, I was always scribbling on something or other,” SiobhĆ”n said with a smile. “Me ma moved the bed once to find I’d been doodling on the walls. She made me repaint it, but I just started over again, and she finally gave up and let me do a mural on one wall.”
Annie smiled at the thought. “Were you a bit of a hellion?”
“I might have been.” SiobhĆ”n’s teeth flashed white as she smiled. “I used to sneak out of the house often. Then, when I got older, I’d sneak girls in.”
“Corrupting the local girls, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” There was a soft purring edge to SiobhĆ”n’s voice that made Annie shift in her seat. “I was the cause of half the girls in our parish confessing to the priest about their lesbian sins.”
“I think I would have liked teenage SiobhĆ”n,” Annie teased. She took another sip of her wine.
“Teenage SiobhĆ”n would have enjoyed you as well.” She peered at Annie over the rim of her glass mug. The scent of whiskey and coffee filled the air. “The question is, were you one of the naĆÆve, innocent ones or the secretly wanton ones?”
“Neither,” Annie said with a rueful laugh. “I was the oblivious one. I used to fool around with the neighbor girl, but I had no idea what I was doing or that all girls didn’t do it together.”
SiobhĆ”n smiled and smeared a bit of goat cheese on a piece of baguette. “I still remember the first time I rubbed up against another girl. We can’t have been more than twelve, but I thought we had invented the act.”
“I think first sex is always like that.” Annie shifted again, aware of the growing tension inside her.
SiobhĆ”n licked a smear of goat cheese from her thumb and dropped her hand to Annie’s thigh. “I think good sex should always feel like that.” Her voice held a hint of husky promise. “If you’re doing it right, it will, anyway.”
Annie took another gulp of her wine. She felt strangely nervous around SiobhĆ”n. Her sexuality was so on the surface. She didn’t seem to hide behind all of the false modesty like so many women—Annie included—did. Instead, it seemed to seep from her every pore and drip from her lush mouth.
“I can’t remember the last time it felt that way for me,” Annie admitted. “With a man or a woman. It’s so easy to fall into that rut where it’s satisfying but not passionate.”
SiobhĆ”n gently stroked her thigh through the soft fabric. “Oh, but passion is the best part. That breathless sense of anticipation and need where you can’t even think straight because you want the other person so much.” Her hand crept higher on Annie’s leg, moving toward her inner thigh. “Don’t you agree, Annie?”
“I’m very quickly becoming re-acquainted with it,” Annie admitted. Her fingers tightened on the stem of the wineglass as if it would somehow anchor her.
Without conscious thought, Annie parted her thighs, allowing SiobhĆ”n’s slender fingers to slip between. Annie felt a sudden rush of regret that she hadn’t worn a skirt as SiobhĆ”n teased the seam of her trousers, gently pushing it between her lips. She could feel the silky fabric of her panties dampening and clinging to her aroused skin. The slight ache of desire grew, and she shifted, pressing into the teasing, probing touch. SiobhĆ”n’s finger grazed her clit, and even through two layers of fabric, it sent a delicious wave of pleasure through her.
“Oh,” she said, the words flowing out of her on a sigh.
“Careful, love,” SiobhĆ”n murmured in her ear, her lips brushing the shell and making another shudder run straight through Annie. “As much as I’m enjoying your reactions, we wouldn’t want to let everyone else know how well this date is going.”
The words brought Annie up short as she was reminded of where they were. Flushing, she straightened and closed her legs. SiobhĆ”n’s hand was trapped between, and she gave Annie a wicked smile. She wiggled her hand free—sending another jolt of pleasure through Annie—and squeezed her thigh. “Forgot where we were?”
“I did. I’m so embarrassed.” Annie pressed her palms to her cheeks. “I got a little carried away.”
SiobhĆ”n straightened but didn’t slide away. “I enjoyed watching you get carried away. We’ll have to do that again when we aren’t in such a public place.”
Annie glanced around. Thankfully, the lighting was subdued. They were toward the back of the nearly empty lounge, and the backs of the booths had dividers. Unless a waitress had walked by, it was unlikely anyone had seen them.
“This is so unlike me,” Annie admitted.
SiobhĆ”n tilted her chin and gave Annie an appraising look. “Perhaps it’s just what you need.”
Annie’s embarrassment began to fade, and she offered SiobhĆ”n a small smile. “I certainly could use a bit more excitement in my life,” she admitted. “Although, that doesn’t necessarily include a public exhibition.”
“Public exhibition is optional,” SiobhĆ”n said, “but passion shouldn’t be.”
The Greenest Isle #2
Chapter One
March
“Dishes are all sorted, so.”
Annie looked up from her laptop to see her girlfriend SiobhĆ”n standing in the doorway of their combined office and studio space. She smiled at SiobhĆ”n, but once the words registered, she felt an all too familiar wave of guilt wash over her. “Thanks. I feel like I haven’t done much around here lately though. I can’t believe the way the blog’s taken off.”
“That’s a good thing,” SiobhĆ”n said with a smile. “The fact that you’ve had to hire a second person to keep up with demand is a sign of your success.”
“Jordan has been a huge help,” Annie agreed. Hiring an assistant had been SiobhĆ”n’s suggestion when it became clear that the workload was more than Annie could manage alone. Employing Jordan Scott—a local woman with a passion for blogging and all things Boston—turned out to be the best decision Annie had ever made. Her work had helped the blog traffic and ad revenue grow faster, and Annie was astonished to find that in the year and a half the blog had been up and running, it was an unequivocal, resounding success.
But even with Jordan on board, Annie still worked long hours, and she knew she hadn’t been pulling her weight around their place. SiobhĆ”n had taken over far more than half of the day-to-day running of their lives, and it left Annie feeling guilty.
“I don’t mind. Besides, what am I going to do? Stare at my canvas all day?”
The wistful note in SiobhĆ”n’s voice made Annie’s chest ache. She pushed her chair back from the desk and held out her arms. “Come here.”
SiobhĆ”n settled on her lap and pressed her forehead to Annie’s. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to whine about it all the time.”
“I know.” Annie stroked SiobhĆ”n’s thick, dark hair. “But I also know how frustrating it must be.”
SiobhĆ”n was a talented painter who had always been prolific and inspired. She’d called Annie her muse when they’d begun dating, but when SiobhĆ”n’s ex-girlfriend Laura had reappeared in her life, SiobhĆ”n’s inspiration had taken a serious hit. Annie suspected it had a lot to do with her discovery that SiobhĆ”n had also referred to Laura as her muse. It hadn’t been a pleasant realization for Annie, and she knew SiobhĆ”n felt guilty about it. Since then, they’d repaired their relationship and were stronger than ever in that regard, but SiobhĆ”n’s well of creativity had dried up.
SiobhĆ”n still painted, of course, but the pictures seemed flat and uninspired. A dull echo of the vibrant work she’d done before. And Annie had no idea how to help.
Her blog gave them plenty of income to live off, but it had shifted the dynamic of their relationship now that Annie worked more than full-time and SiobhĆ”n was at loose ends with her own career. SiobhĆ”n’s assistance around the apartment had been helpful, but Annie knew they both wanted a better balance.
Annie shifted, seeking SiobhĆ”n’s lips with her own. After a brief hesitation, SiobhĆ”n kissed her back. Annie relaxed, sinking into the pleasure of her lover’s mouth. She ran a hand across SiobhĆ”n’s chest, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple through her clothes. SiobhĆ”n let out a breathy moan in response.
“Come to bed with me, gorgeous?” Annie murmured against her mouth. SiobhĆ”n pulled back, a small frown marring her face before it smoothed out. She stood and held out a hand to Annie, but as Annie followed her into their bedroom, she felt a flicker of concern. And even after SiobhĆ”n fingered and licked Annie to a thigh-shaking orgasm, Annie felt a pang of disappointment.
She loved SiobhĆ”n more than anything in the world. She truly did. But something was missing from their relationship as much as it was missing from SiobhĆ”n’s paintings.
There was still so much love between them it made Annie dizzy sometimes. She loved SiobhĆ”n through thick and thin and knew SiobhĆ”n felt the same about her. Their sex life was still satisfying, but SiobhĆ”n’s bright spark of passion was gone, and she almost never initiated anything sexual between them anymore.
Lesbian bed death was a long-running joke in the LGBT community, but somehow, Annie didn’t believe that had anything to do with this particular situation. Unlike other relationships Annie’d had in the past, she didn’t think it was simply because they’d settled into a more comfortable part of their lives and the flush of a new relationship had faded. This went deeper. SiobhĆ”n’s lack of drive to paint had simply bled into everything else. Annie had tried to talk about it with SiobhĆ”n with little success. SiobhĆ”n had brushed it off as being tired or focused on something else at the time, and Annie had been afraid to push too hard for fear of making it worse.
She knew SiobhĆ”n was struggling, and she wanted to help but she wasn’t sure how. And until SiobhĆ”n’s passion for her art returned, Annie was quite sure that passion was going to remain missing from their relationship as well.
And she had no idea how to help SiobhƔn get either back.
***
“Annie! Annie!” A hard shake brought her awake, and SiobhĆ”n’s panicked tone made Annie bolt upright. She blinked, trying to focus through the haze of a deep sleep.
“What’s going on?” she asked thickly. SiobhĆ”n stood beside the bed. Her dark hair was wild and tangled, and her face was white and etched with worry.
“It’s me da, Annie.” SiobhĆ”n’s voice sounded strained and pinched. “He’s had a heart attack. I need to go home.”
Annie rubbed a hand across her face as SiobhĆ”n turned away. “What? Is he all right?”
“I just told you he had a bleedin’ heart attack! Of course he’s not all right!” SiobhĆ”n flung open the closet doors and pulled out a large, heavy suitcase. She dropped it onto the bed beside Annie.
“I mean ...” Annie wasn’t sure how to delicately ask if he was alive. SiobhĆ”n wasn’t making that terribly clear. “How serious is it?”
“He wasn’t feeling well, so he went to the health centre in Bray. His neighbor said they sent him to the hospital in Dublin straightaway.” SiobhĆ”n yanked open a drawer and pulled clothing out. A scarlet bra tumbled to the floor, followed by a balled up pair of socks. “It’s serious. He’ll be in hospital for a while.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry, SiobhĆ”n.” Annie’s brain still wasn’t fully awake, but she threw back the covers and stood, wanting to do something to help.
SiobhĆ”n’s hands were shaking as she yanked open another drawer and stuffed things haphazardly into the suitcase. Her eyes were red-rimmed and watery, and Annie knew she was barely holding on by a thread. Annie approached cautiously and placed a hand to still SiobhĆ”n’s movements. “I mean it, SiobhĆ”n. I’m sorry to hear about your father. What are you doing right now though?”
SiobhĆ”n looked over at her, a frown marring her forehead. “I’m going home, Annie. To Ireland.”
Author Bio:
Brigham Vaughn is on the adventure of a lifetime as a full-time writer. She devours books at an alarming rate and hasn’t let her short arms and long torso stop her from doing yoga. She makes a killer key lime pie, hates green peppers, and loves wine tasting tours. A collector of vintage Nancy Drew books and green glassware, she enjoys poking around in antique shops and refinishing thrift store furniture. An avid photographer, she dreams of traveling the world and she can’t wait to discover everything else life has to offer her.
Her books range from short stories to novellas. They explore gay, lesbian, and polyamorous romance in contemporary settings.
To stay up to date on her latest releases, sign up for the Coles & Vaughn Newsletter.
SMASHWORDS / PINTEREST / SCRIBd / B&N
EMAIL: brighamvaughn@gmail.com
A Brighter Palette #1
The Greenest Isle #2
Series
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