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“All the more reason for this to be a snap decision,” Hope said. “Think about how many millions of decisions you make like that every day, from what to have for breakfast to which foot steps out of the door first. We have a lot more practice making snap decisions than we do considered ones.”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh a little at this. “Alright, alright.”

“We haven’t known each other long,” Hope said. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. And I’m not wearing rose-colored glasses here. You do my head in, Ava Stanford.”

“That hardly seems like a good thing.”

“You irritate me beyond measure, you’re stubborn and annoying. But I can’t help wanting to wake up next to you every morning.”

Ava looked down at her feet. She’d been waiting for this. She’d been waiting for permission to love again and now that it was being handed to her she didn’t quite know how to handle things.

“My life is in ruins,” she said quietly. “I have nothing, Hope. I don’t want to ask you to stand by while I build something again.”

“Why can’t we build something?”

Hope came closer, her warmth bathing Ava until Ava looked up and saw complete honesty in Hope’s eyes. “You have something. You have your daughter, your home, your mother and friends and job. Why would you want to build something with me?”

“Because you make me want to tear my hair out at the very same instant as you make me want to pull the stars from the sky for you.”

The wind blew outside, making the windows rattle. Inside, in here, Ava felt safe and warm. She felt, she realized, as though she belonged, as though she was part of something.

Hope took Ava’s hands in her own. “Trust me, Ava. I know it’s hard for you, I know I’m asking the impossible, but just trust me. I’d do the impossible for you, can you not say the same for me?”

Ava closed her eyes and slowly, very slowly, Hope let go of her hands and her warmth began to fade away.

Ava’s eyes shot open. “Where are you going?”

Hope flushed. “Home.”

“Are we not in the middle of something here?”

Hope raised one eyebrow. “Well, I was. But I rather think I might have got the wrong end of the stick, I mean, you don’t seem to want me to be here, to want—”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Ava leaped from her desk and pulled Hope into her arms, crushing her with a kiss that left them both breathless.

“Jesus,” Hope echoed, when she finally pulled away.

“Right, let’s start from the beginning,” said Ava, finding herself again, finding her feet, as though kissing Hope had finally knocked some sense into her stupid brain. “I love you too.”

“You do?” Hope asked, lips twitching.

“It’s far too soon to say so, but as you say, we’re under time pressure here. You’re absolutely right, of course, we all make decisions every day and there’s no reason that this one should be any different. For whatever reason, you also drive me insane but make me want to hang the moon for you. Clear?”

“Clear,” Hope said. “Um, would you like me to sit down for this, or are you going to kiss me again.”

“No kissing.”

“Right,” Hope said, sitting on a child’s desk.

“To be clear, not because I don’t want to, but because if I do then we might not stop and I think we’ve got some sorting out to do first.”

“We do.”

“You would really leave everything for me?”

Hope nodded. “I would.”

“And what if I stayed?”