The Runway Affair: A Second Chance Lesbian Romance

His eyes narrow. “Good. I don’t need that shit in my church.” With that, he leaves me alone. I let out a deep breath, and my hands sake aggressively. He knows. He can’t know.

“Let’s go downstairs so you can get picture happy before the decoys get here.”

“I’ll go get your gorgeous date, angel.”

“Why? Huh? Too embarrassed to have a gay daughter? You can pray all you want, Father, but you can’t pray the gay away. I’m a lesbian. I like women. Addie just ripped my heart out, but that doesn’t mean I like men.”

High school graduation is supposed to be a milestone, but it’s one of the worst things. When the principal calls my name, the stadium is silent. I don’t expect a triumphant applause or a grand firework show, but this is like the walk of shame.

There really is no hate like a Christian's love.

The two of us were broken souls trying to mend each other with broken puzzle pieces that would never fit.

“Oh, fuck me.” The words fall from her lips as her orbs flood with realization, and her cheeks flush like they always did when she was nervous or turned on.

God, if my father only knew how often we had sex in his church, the man would have had an aneurysm.

what did he expect when he caught me scissoring my Barbies together at six years old? I knew I was fruity even when I was a child, and then Adeline Ellis came crashing into my life.

“Mommy is sad too. She doesn’t think we know, but we do. Maybe you can make her happy again.”

I pull Remi into my arms, running my hands through her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I really feel like you pulled me into one of your romance novels. What would this trope be called? Second chance? Friends to enemies to lovers?

I kiss her gently. “I guess I need to get dressed so they don’t question why their nanny is naked in bed with their mommy.”

Every kiss we share is book worthy. It’s tantalizing, exhilarating and most importantly, healing.

“Mama! Look at me!” Mama.

“There's no hate like a Christians love.”

If you want to add a little spice to our story for dramatic effect, we have the stalker. I really feel like I stepped into one of my smutty romance novels. Life really has a way of doing a complete 180 and changing in a blink of an eye.

My lungs hurt, and I think I’m trying to gasp for air, but I can’t catch my breath. It hurts to breathe. The medic tells his partner to hit the sirens and head to the nearest trauma center.

I shift at the altar, adjusting my dress. My lungs feel tight, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. My palms run down the lace, playing it cool so our guests won’t know I’m a sweaty mess in the autumn breeze