Jo was at the sink with the last of the dishes. Kenny snored softly from his bed in the corner, oblivious to Jo's inner unraveling. He'd been snuffling around her heels earlier, waiting for dinner, tail thumping against the cabinets. Feeding him, patting his wiry head, watching him trot off satisfied--it had helped, for a minute. Something about the rhythm of it, the simplicity. A need she could meet without overthinking.
The kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla - an attempt at distraction. Her ponytail was slipping loose, and she could feel the stubborn trace of flour still clinging to her skin, but she didn't bother wiping it off.
She heard the door open and shut, then footsteps. And Celina's voice: "Hey babe."
Jo's shoulders tensed. "Hey," she said, keeping her eyes on the bowl in her hands. She gave it one last check for spots, then set it in the rack with a little more care than necessary.
She heard Celina settle in the doorway. "You hit the gym?"
Jo nodded, rinsing the sponge again even though it didn't need it. "Yeah. Just needed to clear my head."
The words landed flat but at least they weren't harsh. And she needed to be soft. Celina deserved soft, and her eyes felt like they were boring into the back of her skull. She didn't turn. Her grip tightened around the towel, like she was holding herself back.
"You baked."
Jo tried to play it cool. "Yep. Wild Saturday night."
"You okay?"
Jo reached for a spatula, gave it a pointless rinse, and began drying it with slow, deliberate strokes. "Yeah. Cleaned the kitchen, too. Even reorganized the pantry."
"You reorganized the pantry?" Celina said, faintly amused.
Jo turned just enough to glance at her. "You had the soy sauce next to the oats, like a psychopath."
It landed well enough--got the faintest smile from her. She wished it could stop there. But she could feel the question coming before Celina even spoke.
"Everything alright?"
There it was. A quiet opening. No pressure, no push--just space. The kind her therapist kept telling her to recognize. Say how you really feel, Jo. Let people in. Especially the ones who've earned it. But she tossed the towel onto the counter and said, "Of course it is."
Even now, after 8 years together, it still felt safer to armor up. She could feel the truth as a lump in the back of her throat that she couldn't swallow. And she couldn't look at Celina. I don't need to wear a mask, she told herself. But what her head and heart believed as truth were still worlds apart.
She heard Celina shift closer. "Jo," she said, seriously. "Don't pretend."
When Celina's hand gently touched her shoulder, she winced and stepped away. "What? I'm being supportive. Open relationship, remember? You're allowed to date. And I'm allowed to bake while you're out dating." And she hated how unconvincing it was, like a child caught lying.
She turned to the fridge, yanked it open, and stared inside blankly at its contents like they might offer her an answer--or a distraction. The cold air hit her face.
Celina stepped closer, again. "If something's going on, please just say it."
Jo closed the fridge door--harder than necessary. Jo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "I'm not jealous. That would be stupid. This was my idea, I told you to go for it. I meant it." She could feel it gathering in her throat - shame.
"Jo..."
"I'm mad that I'm mad. I don't even hate her."
God, why did that feel like bleeding?
If Dani were smug or selfish or wrong for her, Jo could rage clean the house and call it clarity. But Dani was kind and soft in all the ways Jo wasnt.
Celina stepped closer. "You know if you say stop, I'll stop."
Jo flinched - it wasn't that simple. "Don't say that. That's not fair."
Celina frowned, confused. "What isn't?"
"Making you choose." Jo rubbed the back of her neck. "You like her. And if this were flipped--if you asked me to stop seeing someone I cared about..." She trailed off, jaw tightening. "I'd be pissed."
There was a silence for a moment.
Celina kept coming closer. "You're allowed to feel like this. It's not a test you have to pass."
Jo met her eyes for the first time. "I thought I could handle this Cel. Thought I was evolved enough. Open, poly, emotionally literate... whatever."
"You are all those things," Celina said.
Jo snorted. "Then why do I feel like a jealous teenager?"
They both almost smiled, but it didn't last. Jo's jaw clenched again, like she was bracing for something.
"Did you fuck her?" she asked, too suddenly.
Celina blinked. "Jo--"
"I just-- I need to know. I want to know."
Celina hesitated. "I fingered her."
Jo's eyes flashed. "So you couldn't not touch her? Was that it? Was she just that irresistible? Or did I push you into her lap with all my... progressive relationship ideals?"
"Jo." Celina said. "Come on."
Jo threw up her hands. "Great job, Jo. Really nailed the evolved partner thing."
"Baby. You're spiraling." Celina said gently.
She stepped closer, but didn't reach for her this time.
"I didn't touch her because you did something wrong. I touched her because I wanted to, and because we said we could."
Jo laughed once--short, bitter. She scrubbed her hands over her face, then dragged them through her hair.
"I hate that I care this much," she muttered.
Celina didn't try to fix it. She just said, "I know."
Another moment passed. Jo's jaw worked, like she was chewing something down.
"I keep thinking if I just say the right thing, I'll stop feeling like this," she said. "But all I want right now is to--"
She stopped herself.
"Is to what?" Celina asked.
Jo looked at her and something behind her eyes cracked open. She didn't want to cey She reached for her instead, finally, and pulled her in with both hands like she was starving for the reassurance only Celina could give. Her mouth met Celina's roughly. She kissed her like the laws of gravity might change if she didn't.
Jo pulled back, her blue eyes wide with panic. "I need you," she said. "Now."
Celina hesitated. "Jo - "
"Please don't make me ask again."
It came out sharper than she meant, but not cruel. Jo wasn't trying to punish her. But she needed to known she was still the center of Celina's world. This was the only way she knew how to ask for closeness without falling apart.
Their mouths crashed together again, breathless, the kind of kiss that left no room for second thoughts. Jo pressed her body into Celina's like she could fold herself into the spaces between her ribs.
They stumbled backward, half-blind with need, bumping into the counter, the edge of the table, laughing once, breathlessly, as Celina's hands slid under Jo's shirt.
But then she stopped. Caught Celina's wrist. Held it between them.
She looked at her--really looked--and something dark flickered through her expression. Jealousy, yes. But more than that: a need to claim, to understand, to feel it for herself.
"These were the fingers, right?" Jo asked, quiet but pointed, lifting Celina's hand.
Celina didn't flinch. Just nodded once, eyes steady.
Jo brought the hand to her lips.
And then--slowly, deliberately--she took Celina's fingers into her mouth.
Her eyes never left Celina's as her lips closed around them, as her tongue dragged along skin that had been inside Dani just an hour before. And yeah--Jo admitted it, at least to herself--this was about control. About taking something back.
Celina didn't look away. Didn't pull back. Just breathed through it, like she understood exactly what Jo was doing and loved her anyway.
Jo sucked slow and deep, the weight of it humming through her body. Her free hand curled into Celina's hip, grounding herself in that one undeniable truth: she could still get to her like this.
Celina's breath hitched--sharp, involuntary. Jo felt it, the shift in her body. The way her hips pressed forward just barely, seeking friction. The way her mouth parted on a soft, uneven exhale.
She was wet. Jo could see it in her eyes, in the sudden flush blooming down her throat, in the tremble of her hand as Jo let her fingers go with a slow, wet drag.
