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It first happened in November.
Carol stood in front of her walk-in closet, hands on her hips, staring at the empty space where her burgundy cashmere sweater should have been hanging. Every blouse, coat, and silk slip had its meticulously-placed spot in her closet, and she’d been looking forward to wearing this specific sweater to Abby’s party tonight.
“Where the hell…” she muttered, pushing hangers aside with mild annoyance (she’d worn it just two weeks ago to dinner with Therese, hadn’t she? Or maybe it was the navy one).
Carol glanced at her watch. She needed to leave any minute now to pick Therese up, especially since she knew how much her darling hated being late to things, but here she was topless and increasingly perplexed.
She ended up grabbing a black wool sweater. The burgundy one would show up eventually, she reasoned.
The party was lovely, Abby’s house filled with the usual crowd of artists and bohemians. With the buzz of a few martinis flowing through her, Carol found herself in excellent spirits, one arm linked through Therese’s as they moved about the rooms, chatting with acquaintances and friends alike.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Therese murmured when they had found a quiet, more private spot near Abby’s terrace.
“Do I? I was worried this sweater wouldn’t suit me. I was looking to wear the burgundy one but I couldn’t find it anywhere,” she said, then laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. “God, listen to me. I’m worrying about my clothes like I’m some frivolous housewife.”
Therese’s cheeks, already pink from the nighttime chill, seemed to deepen in color. “Well I think the black contrasts your hair quite nicely.”
Carol smiled, charmed by how sweet her Therese was being, and promptly forgot all about the sweater mishap.
“I think my age is catching up to me,” Carol muttered to herself one evening, brow knit in confusion. “Angel, have you seen my—”
“Your blouse?” Therese supplied, head lifting from the couch where she lay, looking wonderfully ruffled. “I seem to remember it on the ground, right before you—”
“Therese.”
They were due at a gallery opening of one of Therese’s friends soon, and had begun getting ready two hours ago, knowing Carol’s proclivity for being late. In Carol’s defense, it wasn’t her fault she got so-often sidetracked by how wonderfully fine Therese looked all dolled up for formal events like these. So what if her idea of “getting ready” was fucking Therese senseless against a couch until she couldn’t do anything but scream Carol’s name?
“Wear the blazer you brought instead. It’ll be much more fun to take off you tonight.”
My my, wasn’t her Therese getting mighty bold as of late? Carol leaned down to grip Therese’s jaw, giving her a stern stare. “You’re being very naughty right now, Miss Belivet.”
Therese only grinned back. “I have no idea what you could mean.”
By the time they finally made it to the gallery opening (an hour late, but with her gorgeous girl being such a minx, Carol thought one hour was plenty considerate), her blouse had been left forgotten, crumpled on the floor of Therese’s apartment.
The week after brought along a lazy Sunday morning.
Carol had spent all of the previous day with Therese, window shopping around Fifth Avenue. She was feeling indulgent (blamed it on the post-Thanksgiving mood, but the truth was she always loved to indulge Therese), so she ended up buying whatever little thing her darling set her eyes upon. Of course, she put up absolutely no fight when Therese dragged her back to her apartment and spent the rest of the evening showing Carol exactly how much she appreciated the gifts.
Carol was in the kitchen cooking up breakfast with what meager ingredients she managed to scrape from Therese’s fridge (nevermind it was eleven in the morning, and their “breakfast” was slowly teetering into lunchtime territory) when Therese finally emerged from the bedroom, wearing a shirt that made Carol do a double-take.
“Is this mine?” she asked lightly, tugging on the collar of a familiar worn blue sleep shirt.
Therese glanced down at herself, then back up with wide eyes. “Oh! I hope you don’t mind. I got cold and I found it in your bag,” she said sheepishly.
Carol waved it off, though something nagged at her. She was almost certain she hadn’t packed that particular sleep shirt with her, and that the last place she’d put it was in a drawer back at her apartment. But Therese looked so adorable standing in her shirt, the end of it just grazing past her hips, that Carol decided she must’ve been mistaken. “It looks much better on you anyway.”
Over the next few weeks, Carol began to notice a pattern. It seemed, every time she visited Therese or vice versa, her closet would shrink.
At first, she blamed her own absentmindedness. More often than not, being with Therese made her forget everything else. The way her darling’s eyes lit up when she laughed, how she bit her lower lip when concentrating intensely on something, the flush of her cheeks when she was aroused, the soft sounds she made when Carol kissed her neck (in general, clothes were not something that was typically on their bodies for long whenever they were together).
It was entirely possible, in her Therese-induced haze, that she was simply misplacing things.
But when her favorite maroon cardigan went missing, Carol began to suspect she wasn’t losing her mind after all.
It was her favorite cardigan because it was Therese’s favorite cardigan of hers. Oftentimes, when she’d crash at Therese’s place after a long day of work, Therese would snuggle into her arms, wrapping the cardigan around them both. This cardigan had a very particular place in her closet, sandwiched between her navy sweater and thicker gray cardigan. She couldn’t have lost it.
She nearly turned her bedroom upside down looking for it, and was bordering on harassing the cleaners asking if they’d seen it turn up in one of the washers. She checked her hampers, every drawer, every nook and cranny in her closet once, twice, five times, and still it was nowhere to be found.
When Carol finally bucked up the courage to tell Therese it was missing, she sweetly offered to help look for it—and like a miracle, within minutes, she emerged from her bedroom with it proudly in her hands.
“Oh darling, you’re a star! Where did you find it?”
“It was hidden beneath a pile of clothes. You probably forgot it last time you were here.”
Carol had a feeling that wasn’t the case.
Christmas was in a couple days, and Carol was intent on spending as much of the holiday season with her sweetheart as possible. She had always loved Christmas, loved the gifts and the pretty decorations and the festivities of it all, and ever since her last Christmas gave her Therese—well, it easily became her favorite holiday.
“You’re impossible,” Therese gasped, her hands sliding through wet hair as Carol’s lips traced a path down her throat.
“Am I?” Carol murmured against her collarbone, then lower, until Therese’s breath hitched and her hips rolled into hers, desperate and needy.
“Carol, I—” Therese’s protest dissolved into a breathy moan, and Carol’s stomach clenched with want. “You’re distracting me.”
She smirked, nipping at Therese’s ear. “That’s the point.”
Therese groaned, and after a moment she pressed her palms against Carol’s shoulders. “Stop, stop. I need to actually get clean and you’re not helping at all.”
Carol gasped in faux-offense. “You’re really going to kick me out of the shower?”
“My shower,” Therese corrected, and she gently pried Carol’s hands from her hips. “I’ll be out in a minute, I promise. Now go.”
With one final kiss, Carol grumpily obliged, wrapping herself in a towel. Her own clothes were still stuffed in her weekend bag somewhere in the hallway, and too lazy to grab it, she went to the bedroom to look for something to borrow while she waited.
She went to the dresser and tried opening the top drawer. It seemed stuck, and she tugged at it again, sending it sliding out further than intended.
Carol stared.
Inside, neatly folded and stacked, were her missing clothes. All of them. The burgundy sweater from all those months back, the cream-colored blouse (and was that her green sweater, the one Abby had given to her for her twenty-seventh birthday? A good chunk of the left side of the drawer held clothes she hadn’t even realized she was missing), and what looked like half her sleepwear collection.
She stood there dripping on Therese’s floor, torn between laughter and bewilderment. Her sweet, shy, adorable darling was apparently a clothes thief!
The shower shut off, and Carol quickly slipped on a shirt and shut the drawer, casually perching herself on the edge of the bed as Therese emerged from the bathroom.
“Told you it’d be just a minute,” Therese said, a towel wrapped around her torso. “Wanna pick up where we—” She stopped, seeing the expression on Carol’s face. “What?”
“Nothing.” Carol moved closer to the dresser, fighting a smile. “I was just looking for something to wear.” She opened the top drawer again, this time with deliberate slowness.
Therese’s face fell.
Carol reached in and pulled out her burgundy sweater, holding it up between them. “I’m very curious as to how my entire closet ended up in your dresser.”
Therese’s mouth opened. Closed. Carol thought she looked like a wide-eyed deer just about ready to bolt.
“I didn’t mean—it wasn’t supposed to—oh my god. You must think I’m some kind of pervert.”
Oh, wasn’t darling just a delight to tease? Schooling her face, Carol set the sweater aside and stood, relishing in how she towered over Therese.
“Hmm. Well it seems not only is my girlfriend that, but she’s also a thief.”
She took a step forward, and then another, and Therese clutched her towel tighter, looking like she wanted to disappear into the floor. “I was going to give them back! I swear I was. I’m sorry. It—it started by accident—you left one of your sweaters here, and I was going to return it, but then…”
Therese was practically backed into the wall.
“Yes?”
“You’re going to think I’m pathetic.”
“Try me.”
Carol fully expected a blush to taint Therese’s cheeks (maybe some nervous fidgeting too), with her teasing drawing out a few bashful confessions before she would inevitably crack and wrap her darling up in kisses.
What she didn’t expect was the deep sigh from Therese instead, didn’t expect Therese’s eyes to land everywhere but at her even though their faces were mere inches apart, didn’t expect how small and defeated Therese would suddenly seem.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “When you’re not here, I can’t sleep. And your sweater, it smelled like you and your perfume, and it… well, I wore it to bed, and it helped.”
Carol’s lips parted in surprise and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. How adorably—
“It was supposed to be a one time thing. I didn’t mean to take all of them. I mean, I did, but—” Her voice grew small, so much smaller. “I miss you when you’re not here, Carol. And I can’t… I hate waking up alone. If you ever—if that ever happened again—”
Carol silenced her with a kiss.
It was moments like these that reminded her just how young her Therese was. Even though she had returned to Carol grown-up and confident, underneath it all was still the sensitive and sweet shopgirl she’d fallen in love with—the Therese that clung onto her like a weak kitten after they first made love in that damned hotel in Waterloo, the Therese that later cried in her car because she thought she was being selfish for letting Carol love her.
Therese’s hands twisted into Carol’s shirt, and she kissed her back with a ferocity that seemed to shock them both. Pulling their bodies flush together, Therese kissed and licked into her mouth until Carol was panting for breath. Only then did Carol taste the salt of tears in Therese’s desperate kisses, and with a lick against Therese’s bottom lip, she broke them apart, hands cupping her face.
Her voice was infinitely softer when she spoke again. “You really wore my clothes to help you sleep?”
Tears began to fall again, and Carol was quick to brush them away with her thumb. “I know it sounds crazy and clingy—”
“Because you missed me?”
Therese nodded miserably.
“Oh, baby.”
All this pain, all this hurt, and for what? She wanted to shake her past self until she came to her senses, to undo every bit of pain she’d caused this precious girl. The urge to curl into herself, to curse and rage, was almost overwhelming.
But if the past eight months with Therese after that fateful day at the Oak Room taught her anything, it was that Therese didn’t want, nor need, apologies. What Therese needed from her was actions, to show her now, and tomorrow, and every day onwards, that she was here to stay.
What’s done had been done, and all her guilt and self-recrimination would only serve as punishment for herself. Carol had learned (through many painful, tearful conversations together), that no matter how many apologies she made over and over again, none of them would reverse the damage she’d done to their hearts. Instead of looking back, she needed to look forward.
At this revelation, Carol was filled with a renewed sense of purpose. Aware Therese was probably uncomfortable in her still towel-clad body, Carol grabbed a sweater from the drawer and gently pulled it over Therese.
“I want you to know I’m not going anywhere,” Carol murmured, arms wrapping around Therese’s slim frame. “Not again, not ever again. I was a coward for leaving you the way I did, and you know I will do whatever it takes to make up for that pain.” She kissed Therese’s head and pulled away slightly to look her squarely in the eyes. “I’m not afraid anymore, angel. I love you, fiercely and with my whole heart. I chose you months ago, and I will continue to choose you until I can’t anymore.”
Therese let out a shaky breath, and Carol wiped away the lingering few tears on Therese’s face. “Next time you miss me, just talk to me instead of resorting to petty theft.”
Amusement danced in Therese’s eyes, and Carol took it as a good sign she had calmed down. “Ah, darn. I was already planning to steal your jewelry next.”
“Were you now?”
“Oh, yes. Particularly that necklace you wear whenever we go out for dinner, I think it would really compliment this new dress I bought.”
“Well I’d better put a lock on my closet, can’t have you stealing my shoes too.”
“If you’re that worried, I could just move in with you. Then I’d have access to your entire closet legally.”
It was said so quickly, Carol almost didn’t catch it. But when she did, her heart stuttered. It was always her who made these types of teasing comments about moving in, never Therese herself.
“What?”
She was sure Therese would brush it off, would blush and change the subject, would laugh and say she was just making a joke. Instead, when Therese looked up at her, in her eyes held something Carol dared to believe was hope.
“I want to move in with you, Carol.”
For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. “Therese—”
“I mean it.” Therese stepped forward, taking Carol’s hands in hers. “I’ve been ready since the start, but I didn’t want to say anything. I guess I wanted to prove to myself I could be independent without you, and if something happened, I would be okay.”
She faltered, and Carol nodded encouragingly, even though Therese’s words pained her. She knew how difficult it was for Therese to voice her thoughts, and she cherished moments like these when Therese gave her a peek into her rich inner mind.
“But I realized I already proved that to myself, and I’ve been doing nothing but torturing myself by being away from you for all these months.” Therese took in a deep breath, and her next words shocked Carol speechless. “I want to live with you. I want to go to sleep in your arms every night and wake up with you next to me every morning. I want you, Carol.”
What else could she do but kiss her darling?
“Oh angel, I love you so much. So, so much.” Therese giggled, and Carol’s heart soared.
Therese’s hands wove into her hair, and breathlessly, she said back, “I love you too.”
They went on for a while, kissing and petting at each other, until Therese’s soft sighs into her mouth nearly drove her wild and her hands were roaming up, up under clothing. “Carol,” Therese warned, quickly catching onto her intentions. “We just got dressed.”
Her protest sounded weak enough. “Darling, as adorable as you are in my sweater, right now I’d much rather see you with it off.”
Therese laughed and Carol kissed her again and again, pressing her down onto the bed and settling between her thighs with a smile that was nothing but pure satisfaction.
Therese moved in a week later, boxes stacked in the hallway with books and clothes strewn about every which way on the floor.
And if a few of Carol’s sweaters still ended up in Therese's drawer, well—Carol didn’t mind one bit.