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Geeta sat, cushioned by numbness, not wanting to let the revelation seep in. Because that was a terrible mix of hope and fear.

First imagining Nicola touched by Blake so clearly, she heard Nicola’s heightened breathing and excruciating sigh as she came; able to picture the ecstasy on her face so that it tortured. Then the clouds relenting on a sunny day, when Charlotte said Nicola sang, and instead, she heard Nicola’s chocolatey voice and knew exactly her expression when content. The elation threatened to burst in her chest, before fear swept in again – that this was so much bigger than she’d realised, and she wasn’t ready.

Oh, this evening played with her. The slice of jealousy. Then worse, the hope. And fearing that hope, when she didn’t even understand what she longed for. Everything swirled inside.

She’d thrown herself into this adventure, riding high on a sexual epiphany, and only now considered the consequences. And they were vividly apparent this evening. She closed her eyes, not wanting it to hit. But it seeped in anyway, working into her heart that swelled and beat harder with both trepidation and longing.

Silence penetrated, and she glanced up.

Charlotte stared at the table, confused. Millie shot Olivia a look. Something passed there that Geeta didn’t understand. Whatever it was, Charlotte didn’t catch it either.

“I, erm...” Geeta put up her hands. “I should get home.”

“Shall I come with you?” Olivia asked.

“No. You stay.” She squeezed Olivia’s hand, reaching out for her own reassurance, glad that her daughter didn’t flinch. She knew sudden touch was complicated for her.

“I want to enjoy the summer evening with a walk by the river.” She made the excuse and, distracted, started to leave. “Sorry.” She came back and hugged Millie and Charlotte, kissing them both on the top of the head. She didn't always, but vulnerability had her reaching out.

Geeta left the pub in confusion, about who she was and what she was doing. The walk along the golden-sunset river and blooming meadows only accentuated her feelings, the hope soaring higher, then fear plunging low.

“Can I see you?” came a message as she arrived home.

It was the first for days from Nicola, and she stared at it, not knowing what she wanted.

“Yes,” she tapped in, still undecided.

She waited in the kitchen, hands pressed on the cold island top, staring at nothing between her and the windows, no plan or speech coming to mind.

When she saw her, would Geeta know what to do? Which version of Nicola did she hope to meet at the door? The bold professional, ready to brush her aside and bulldoze on with life – the same one that others thought cruel. Or the Nicola who sang, made her tea, conjured her alive, and complimented everything from her intellect to her cooking.

Geeta hurt for a hundred things. For being where she was, and at the growing pains of becoming her new self, not yet steady on her feet, exploring tentatively, sometimes carelessly leaping in and landing not sure where.

It sparked butterflies and chills and it rocked her with heartache and heart burst. She wondered if she might cry from it all, as a wave of feeling, nothing like she’d felt since a teenager, enveloped her. Except here she was, a mature woman with fewer options, and there were only so many times she could get back on her feet again.

A knock on the front door.

She paused and padded cautiously down the hall. Nicola’s shape glowed indistinct through the glass under the dim outdoor light. Her heart cantered as she reached for the catch.

Deep breath.

Open the door.

Neither version waited outside. Nicola stood tall, in a white shirt and designer suit, an outfit of confidence, but her face strained tentative and the look in her eye vulnerable. Nicola stepped closer, those penetrating blues clear, and everything about her said she was going through her own turmoil. They waited, staring at each other, fraught on both sides.

“I missed you,” Nicola whispered.

Geeta didn’t even know what she decided, but she grasped Nicola’s hand, pulled her inside, closed the door and buried herself in her chest.

Strong. Soft. The scent of vanilla and spice surrounded her, the comfort immediate and deep. The warmth of Nicola’s arms around her dissolved two into one. Nicola’s cheek rested against her forehead and fingers ran gently through her hair.

“I missed you every single day,” Nicola murmured.

Geeta’s throat tightened over her reply. She wanted to say she’d been through every phase and turned every direction this week. And that right now was the only time the ground steadied beneath her feet.

And yet it seemed fragile and temporary. That if she stepped out of this hold, chaos would swirl again.

She pulled Nicola close.

“This is more than sex, isn’t it?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Nicola held her tighter, with heat and truth. “More than that for me.”

Geeta leant up, and swept away the waves of hair from Nicola's face to see her clearly. Those blue eyes stared, always unflinching, but her face reflected every feeling that coloured her voice. Geeta gently stroked Nicola's eyebrows smooth, unused to seeing them troubled by anything.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Nicola gazed at Geeta with longing. It hurt looking at it, because Geeta wanted to sweep her up, and at the same time feared it.

“I think we’re in a bit of a situation here,” Nicola said before she could.

That made Geeta smile. “Yes, we are.”

Because this was complicated.

Yearning lingered deep in the lines on Nicola’s face. Of all the expressions – amusement, wryness, audacity – this moved Geeta most and her heart ached. She knew it was for her and wanted more too. But how the hell could they do that?

They had so many ties and sensitive relationships surrounded them. They didn’t have the freedom just to try this. A secret fling? Maybe. More than that? Impossibly complicated. Something with a future? More complicated again.

Two complex daughters, coming out to family, a new relationship after divorce, there were so many issues to manage, when this was a fledging relationship, and a funny beast of a fledgling too. Unique. Frustrating. Beautiful. How the hell would they make it fly, if everything around them snipped and clipped at its wings?

Nicola gazed at her, the same thoughts fluttering there, as if she comprehended the complications and where they stood too.

“I am...” Geeta started.

Falling for you? Was that absurd thought true?

“You are becoming something for me,” she said. “Someone I like more than I ever imagined. And that is strange and surprising and wonderful and...”

“Actually terrifying.”

“Yes.”

They held each other tighter, the warmth desperate between them.

“Can we at least say this is something?” Nicola whispered against her forehead.

And when Geeta peered up, she saw Nicola smile. Oh, that smile. Full of pain and desire.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Geeta said.

Because it made her heart grow and want to stop Nicola’s ache by any means.

She stroked around Nicola’s forehead, trailing a finger along soft, dark eyebrows, aching to soothe the concern. She stretched up on tiptoes and kissed gently there. Then another, filled with tender longing, and Nicola relaxed beneath her lips, her expression collapsing as Geeta touched her.

A kiss on her delicate eyelids, the sensation intimate and warm on Geeta's lips. Across Nicola's cheeks. Then a slow careful kiss to her mouth. It was unlike any before, with sweet regard for each other. No intentions, only appreciation, and Geeta pulled her tight, cheek to cheek.

“I’m all over the place tonight,” Geeta whispered.

And she clung on, wanting to enjoy this, if only for a moment. She breathed Nicola in, as if to fill herself up for what was to come.

“Now...” she whispered.

She stood back and held Nicola’s hands.

“I want us to talk. I need to talk. But I’m getting something to eat first. Would you like dinner?”

Nicola nodded.

“I’m reheating aloo masala. I can never seem to make a quantity for less than four.” A habit when cooking for the family, who became three, and two, then just her. “And poaching an egg. How does that sound?”

“The best.” Nicola brightened and stood taller.

Funny. The eminent barrister, who she imagined dining in five-star restaurants, turned out to be partial to her spicy fried potatoes, one of Geeta’s family-favourite comfort foods.

They were quiet, careful, around each other as Geeta cooked, Nicola filling glasses of water and putting out cutlery on the table, knowing Geeta’s kitchen enough to help without prompting. It was another thing that surprised her, the ease with which they did the everyday. They pitched in naturally, as two mums, two people, who were used to taking care of others and getting on with it.

“You look tired,” Geeta said, stepping away from the cooker and stroking around Nicola’s face, the lines deeper than usual.

“One of those weeks where everything seemed uphill.”

“Talk to me about it,” she said gently.

Nicola leant back against the counter and folded her arms, an unusual move of self-comfort for her.

“I had a hideous divorce case, where I wished I represented the other client. I’m used to defending unpleasant individuals, but the opposing team neglected their preparation, and I had to pull them up on it. Negligent not to. But it disadvantaged a far better person.”

Nicola didn’t mention Blake, but perhaps she didn’t see the issue.

“Followed by a gruelling session to advise a parliamentary working group on the effects of divorce on women.”

Geeta nodded. No wonder Nicola didn’t have time to message her.

They sat around two sides of a corner of the dining table. They ate in silence and Nicola watched her, waiting for her to say what she needed.

Geeta put down her fork and sipped at her water.

Are you seeing other people, she wanted to ask. Then breathed in sharply, when even contemplating it hurt.

“Have I been na?ve here?” she said suddenly, the words leaping out before she was ready. “Are you seeing anyone else?”

Nicola stilled.

“Look.” Geeta raised her hands to plead for patience. “I haven’t dated in a long time, and I don't know what’s a given.”

Nicola stared at her.

“We’ve not talked about it,” Geeta accepted. “So I don't know if you’re seeing other people at the same time.”

And her eyes smarted as she met Nicola’s gaze.

“Good god, no.” Nicola laughed.

Nicola dropped her fork and dabbed her mouth with a serviette. She shook her head as if genuinely surprised, rather than dismissive.

“Darling, why on earth would I sleep with anyone else, when I’m having the best sex of my life with you?”

“Oh.”

That was a surprise. Yet it cut too, with Nicola distilling them into simply sex.

“Like, beyond compare.” Nicola gave another laugh, which did sound dismissive.

Geeta glared at her, hands twitching to shoot to her hips, ready to be furious.

Then she looked again, switching from one bright blue eye to the other, making herself see. Catching the tension in her jaw. The slight widening of the eyes. This was Nicola being defensive, wasn’t it. Bold and forthright many times, but this wasn’t one of them. She recognised when Nicola deflected now. They were both vulnerable.

Geeta pushed down her own hurt and looked at her. Really looked at her. She stood and slowly sat on her knee, slipping her arms around her shoulders. The warmth of them together reassured, but she gazed straight at her, so Nicola couldn’t avoid this.

“Geeta...”

Layers gave way, and flutters of different emotions swelled. And Geeta stayed, and sought, and found Nicola, naked and raw beneath. Bravado fell from the barrister’s eyes. The games and challenge ceased. Would Nicola talk to her about what was true deep down?

“Geeta...” Nicola breathed again. “This is nothing like anything I’ve had before.”

There. An undefended truth.

When Geeta lifted her hand to stroke her cheek, Nicola’s expression collapsed further.

“I've been attracted to you for...a long time now. And this has me undone.”

Geeta sank into her, as if they both succumbed to it.

“Did you mean it,” Geeta whispered, “when you said I was the most beautiful woman in the room that night?” At the company event where they sparred.

“You’re always the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Nicola gazed at her without shying away, because she never shied away. But it was so raw, it was Geeta who almost needed to break.

“I’m a little lost with things,” Geeta whispered. “And you...” She cupped Nicola’s face. “This isn’t what I expected.”

She shook her head with defeat and affection, because she owed Nicola honesty too.

“I assumed we were just having fun. And my goodness, this is a ride.” She couldn’t help smiling. “But I’m going to get hurt if we have different assumptions. I can’t manage a setup beyond the two of us. My life is too complicated right now, and I don't think I’d handle it well other times.”

She swallowed, knowing it was true of her.

“Geeta, I have no compulsion, whatsoever, to see anyone else. Really, I’ve never had sex like this, so it’d be pointless. And...,” here Nicola talked less easily, “I enjoy your company beyond anyone I’ve ever met.”

Geeta held her breath. She mustn’t let tears flood her eyes. But these were such admissions from Nicola, unexpected and authentic.

And ouch, again. This would hurt either way, getting closer to her, or pushing away.

“This is going to be tricky,” Geeta said, her voice breaking even in a whisper.

“Yes.”

“But I want to find out what we have.”

“I do too. Very much,” Nicola whispered, the short understatement scoring it higher.

And Geeta leant down to kiss her.

***

The tenderest touch Nicola had ever known.

Geeta sat on her knee, cupping her face, and kissed her as if she were beloved. The longing of the week had Nicola falling, and she let those caresses deep inside. No walls or layers to hold up to Geeta, just instant transformation at her touch.

She let go, as Geeta swept her fingers through her hair, releasing days of tension. The worry. The way she’d missed her. All dispersed and faded into air, leaving her melting at kisses that savoured her.

Around her cheeks, over her eyes, down her neck. She sighed and held Geeta closer, kissing her too, the sensations familiar and comforting, while growing in potency. The scent of her, subtle yet so distinctive, worked on her like a potion. Holding Geeta near always did so many things to her.

Fingers slipped her buttons undone. Warm lips caressed down her neck and tasted beneath her shirt. She stroked her hands under Geeta's top, the nakedness there fuelling her need for more. More closeness. More intimacy. What she yearned for didn't even seem sexual anymore. She kissed like she couldn’t get enough of her, beyond arousal, only wanting to experience her more intensely.

“Come upstairs,” Geeta whispered.

And she followed, without a word, drawn after the woman as if they were bound.

They undressed each other, every glimpse a treat and chance to get nearer and savour another part of her.

Only when they lay in bed, and thighs slipped between thighs, did Nicola notice how heightened she’d become.

“Kiss me,” Geeta whispered beneath her. “Please don’t stop kissing me.”

Hands gently caressed to find each other, with breath catching, lips longing, vivid and tingling from mouth to the supple nub beneath her finger. Every place in between lit up awed. Nothing had felt so intense as this, lying together, touching each other, and grasping at kisses as they fell.

She moaned and half-collapsed, then found Geeta’s lips again, Geeta struggling too with the sensations mounting between them. She felt them building, the synchronous strokes raising them as one. Everything sent her higher and melted her deeper. Breasts softest against each other. Geeta’s legs tensing between hers. The heat rising between them. The quiet moans as their humid breaths mingled, colliding in rhythm.

She looked at her, no longer able to kiss, and saw the same stricken need on Geeta’s face, and nothing could hold back her response to that intimate erotic sight.

A quiet cry escaped with every breath. The tension built rigid in limbs. The heated explosion stretched within, ready to unleash. Wet and hot on fingers. Thrusting closer. Higher. Then seized and consumed, they both cried out loud, and tumbled and tumbled and tumbled.

Embraced, they fell into smoothest darkness, and everything faded away so all she felt was Geeta, in tune and part of her. Cheek to hot cheek. Bodies flushed and sweltering. Here it was. That closeness she’d sought and needed. That letting go and letting someone in. And Geeta receiving as she received her.

Divine.

They lay gasping in each other’s arms, neither able to speak. She didn't want to let go and they stayed together, warm beneath the sheet, until their breaths relaxed and slowed into sleepy rhythm.

When she stirred later in the night, they still clung to one another. And when they woke in early morning light, they immediately sought each other again.

No answers, but the want was clear.

She ran her fingers through Geeta’s hair, sweeping it from her face. She swallowed when she found her looking back, brown eyes large, brimming with many thoughts.

“We are definitely a something,” Geeta whispered. And she heard both worry and appreciation in her voice.

She understood it powerfully now. Another step along a path from which she couldn’t turn away.

And they held each other, drifting in the low rays of sunlight.