Marianne Sheridan

Enough is enough.

She's happier than she's been in a long time, but, underneath the surface, there's an itch that she can't scratch. Her and Pal spend a lot of time in each other's company, and there's plenty of kisses, plenty of hand-holding, the odd occasion when they get carried away and fumbling is involved. What there isn't is anything more than that, and Marianne just isn't used to waiting. For her, sex has always been this frentic, immediate thing.

So she's a little bit off balance here.

This might not be the best course of action. She arrives at Pal's door (having texted Cam to make sure that he's home). She's wearing a comfortable dress, black, knit, that she knows that he likes. And underneath it, she's new black lace.

She just hopes she isn't making a mistak

She'd been pleased when he texted her and asked if she wanted to meet him for coffee. She'd seen him a few times since he arrived and, every time, she'd been struck by how intense he was, how clever, how focused. She liked his company, anyway. She'd texted him back and told him where she'd be if he wanted to swing by.

And maybe she spends a couple of minutes putting on some winged eyeliner. Maybe.

An hour later, she's set up at a cafe she likes, idly researching a few things on her laptop, a latte at her elbow. She leans her chin into her hand.