“This is very gentlemanly of you, Patrick, but you really don’t need to walk me home. You can see the cottage from the high street,” Simone said.
“It’s no bother. You can never be too careful.”
“All right, you got me.”
“It’s nice having you and Aunty Star here. Mum really loves it.”
“I never thought I’d say it, but I like being here.” She paused. “I feel like I haven’t been the best aunty to you and Verity. I’ve not been very present for the last few years.” She felt embarrassed, ashamed even, of the distance she’d kept.
Patrick shrugged. They were almost to the picket fence of the cottage.
“You’re here now.” He took a hesitant breath, and Simone sensed he was steeling himself to say something. “Aunty, is my mum serious about Joe?”
Ahh, there it is, she thought. She found herself caught between the truth and a promise. She didn’t want to lie to Patrick, but there was no way she was going to break her sister’s confidence.
“What do you mean?” she asked, stalling for time.
At that moment, a woman rose up from behind the arbor. Simone’s heart gave a thud and she was suddenly weak, as though all her bones had rubberized.
“Evette? What are you doing here?” Just to see her wife’s face was like walking into the light, dazzling and regenerating.
A flash lit the two.
“Got it!” said Patrick triumphantly, looking down at the photograph he’d just taken on his phone.
“What’s going on?” she gasped. She was delighted and suspicious all at once, she couldn’t take it in.
Evette smiled. “Star told me I should surprise you. I told her you hate surprises, but she was insistent. She said you’d all worked really hard on the winter solstice festival and that it would be a crime for me to miss it.”
Simone laughed and threw herself at her wife, kissing her and then squeezing her in a bear hug before kissing her again.
“Well, I’ll be off,” Patrick said cheerily. “Hope you weren’t waiting for too long on that cold bench, Evette. That’s a recipe for hemorrhoids.”
“Cheeky shit.” Evette laughed.
“It’s good to see you again, Aunt Evette.” Patrick grinned.
“You too, sweetheart.”
“And what was your role in this little deception, young man?” Simone asked, smiling, still clinging to her wife as though she might disappear if she let go.
Patrick waved his phone at her. “Paparazzi.” He grinned. “Aunty Star wanted to see your face when you saw Evette.”
She rolled her eyes. “Heavenly-Stargazer inherited the North mischief gene.”
“Aren’t you glad she did?” Evette asked, squeezing Simone’s hand.
She looked at Evette. She couldn’t believe she was here. It had been a long time since her heart had been full of anything other than melancholy, but right now it was singing a glad tune. “Yes,” she replied. “Yes, I am.”
Patrick wandered back out onto the high street. His whistling “Let It Snow” carried on the crisp night air and could still be heard even as Simone, smiling, pushed the door to the cottage closed and turned to face her wife.
“I’ve missed you,” she said.
“Me too,” Evette agreed. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“Not yet.” She was hungry for her wife, and she was gratified to see Evette’s lips twitch into a wicked smile.
“You’re right,” Evette said, yanking her coat off and slinging it over the banister. “Talking can wait. Where’s the bedroom in this joint?”
* * *
Later, after they had reacquainted themselves, they lay spooning, Simone’s big spoon to Evette’s little, the duvet pulled tight around their bodies to keep out the chill.
“I told you it was a big bed,” she said sleepily. She felt Evette smile.
“We’d never fit a bed this size into our tiny flat. There wouldn’t be room for anything else. Only bed.”
“I think I could live with that.” She pulled Evette closer.
Evette laughed softly. “Not with your clothes-buying habit. Wardrobes are essential.”
“We could get a bed this size if we had a bigger place.”
“I think that’s above our pay grade.”
“Not if we moved out of the city.” She felt Evette shift away slightly and cold filled the gap.
“What are you suggesting?”
The words seemed to have come of their own accord, but now that they were out, she realized she meant them.
“Maybe we could move here. Star’s going to stay at Dad’s place for a while; Maggie too while she gets sorted.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think that so long as you’re not using Rowan Thorp as a place to hide from the problems we’ve been facing, it’s worth considering. You know my home is wherever you are.”
“I can’t be hiding from things if you’re with me, can I? It’ll simply be a fresh environment for us. I feel more relaxed here. Believe me, that’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. You were right, I need my sisters. You’re always right.”
“Oh, no, don’t put that pressure on me.” Evette laughed softly. “It’s only that sometimes I can see what you’re too close to notice. You do the same for me.”
“Thank you.” She nestled her head into the pillow, reveling in having Evette so close.
“For what?”
“For coming here.”
“Thank Star for being a pushy mare. That woman is tenacious when she’s got a bee in her bonnet.”
“Remind you of anyone?”
“I don’t think any of those apples fell as far from the tree as you North sisters like to think.”
Simone smiled and snuggled in closer.
“You tired?” asked Evette.
“Why?”
“I was thinking we should take advantage of this awfully big bed again.”
* * *
For the first time in a long while Simone slept through the night without wakefulness or nightmares. She had missed Evette since she’d been in Rowan Thorp, but now that they were back in each other’s arms, she realized she had been missing her for a lot longer than that. Over the last year, they’d been living simultaneously together and miles apart. She wouldn’t let that happen again. Their path toward becoming parents might be unclear, but she would make sure they never lost sight of each other again.
* * *
A patter woke Star. A dripping tap? A branch against a window? A shower of little skitters against the glass. This better not be Stu again. “For fuck’s sake!” she shouted. She jumped out of bed, threw back the curtains, and wrenched open the window in one smooth movement, shouting, “What!” against the wall of cold air.
“I don’t care!” blurted a man’s voice.
Her world tilted. Not Stu. Duncan. She gulped in a lungful of frozen night.
“Duncan!” Hope oxygenated her blood and catapulted through her veins.