Weeks fly by and the day is finally here. I help Vera fix her hair, making it look just so. Letting my fingers linger along her neck, our eyes meet in the mirror. She reaches her hand up to pat mine, a sad smile on her lips.

My own isn’t much better, so I close my eyes briefly, take a deep breath, then flash her a happier one. “You’ve never looked more beautiful, Vera. Lloyd is a lucky man.”

I stop, unable to continue without risking my voice betraying me. Squeezing her shoulders, I manage, “Come, it’s time.”

She nods.

I know she’s right, that she doesn’t have a choice in the matter – neither of us do. I know how her father’s been pushing the issue of Vera finally finding a man to take care of her.

He isn’t uncaring by any means, but feels it’s the duty of a daughter to be wed early and have children. He’s been pressing her nearly from the moment we had come out to society. In truth, it should surprise me that Vera’s been able to hold out for as long as this.

At least he’ll allow her the choice of who…

Turning my head, I try to hide the hurt I feel. Hurt I know I have no right to feel. My heart believes differently and a lone tear trails down my cheek.

Vera cups my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. I swallow hard when I see her eyes shimmer, too. “Rosalie, I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish… I wish things were different, but Father…”

Her jaw works a few times before she continues. “Lloyd’s a good man, at least, and I do love him, in a way. Or I believe I could do… someday…”

A soft knock startles me out of my reverie. Quickly wiping away a few stray tears, I clear my throat, straightening my posture and turning to the door. “Come in.”

Vera tentatively steps into my room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She leans against it. For a moment we just stare at each other.

Slowly, she steps forward until she’s right in front of me. Her soft hand touches my cheek as she kneels down before me, our eyes never breaking contact.

“Oh, Rose… my beautiful Rose…” She sighs. “I still love you, my precious one.”

Lloyd Henry Roche.

How I despise him.

Envy him.

He is free to court Vera – to hold her hand, touch her, caress her.

To steal a kiss from her.

He’s been courting her for weeks and I cannot stand it.

Sitting behind my dressing table, I stare blankly at my reflection. I’ve claimed a headache in order to be left alone by Mother and my brothers.

In truth, I’m sulking, thinking about how things will never be the same again.

That I’ve lost her.

A sob threatens at the realization that I never truly had her to begin with.

Vera’s parents are asleep, their bedrooms on the far side of the hall. Knowing that they could walk in on us heightens everything.

My back arches at her touch, a low moan slipping past my lips.

“Shhh! You must be quiet, Rosalie!” she whispers admonishingly, even as her very actions prove to make that nigh impossible.

Her fingers curl inside of me, doing wickedly heathen – delicious, heavenly – things to me.

I need more.

Keening softly, I reach for her, kissing her frantically as she brings me to completion – as she damns me to hell.

I’m in Heaven.

We agree that no one must know. No one can ever find out. If they did, they would surely separate us.

If Father ever discovered …

I shudder at the thought. As ambitious as my parents are, he would not take kindly to find his daughter had been…spoiled.

Used goods.

I know that what I feel for Vera is improper, but I simply cannot help myself. I still can’t believe she feels the same way about me.

So we keep our secret.

People always say we’re as close as sisters, so that’s what I call her.

My sister.

My love .

She blushes as her hand finds mine under the covers – it strikes me as odd, since this isn’t anything we haven’t done before. We’re lying on our sides as always, but there’s something different this time.

We’ve been sharing secrets again, as is our ritual.

“Rose?” she murmurs, uncertainty clear in both her voice and her eyes.

“Yes, Vera?”

“Can I tell you a secret? A real one, I mean?”

I nod.

Instead of speaking, Vera leans in, brushing her lips ever-so-softly against mine. “I love you, Rosalie,” she whispers shyly.

“And I, you, Vera.” I squeeze her hand .