Page 112 of Emma

Vanessa tiptoed in from the kitchen with two festive mugs, her hair up in a loose knot that had waged and lost a war with the day. She set the drinks on the coffee table and slid onto the couch, tucking herself in along Emma’s length so perfectly that they clicked into place like two jigsaw pieces.

“Mulled cider,” she said. “Sip carefully or you’ll burn your tongue and blame me.”

Emma cracked an eye open. “I would never blame you for something so festive.”

“Oh, you absolutely would.” Vanessa nudged a mug into Emma’s hands and leaned back, their shoulders pressed and their thighs touching through flannel pyjamas. “How’s that head of yours doing?”

“Loud,” Emma said truthfully, then blew into her mug. “But in a ‘shit, what have I forgotten to do’ way. Not a ‘fucking hell, my sister is coming for Christmas dinner’ way.”

Vanessa studied her profile and smiled. “You did well today.”

“I chopped anobscenenumber of carrots,” Emma deadpanned. “That’s what I did.”

“You didn’t spiral once,” Vanessa corrected. “You didn’t check your phone every five seconds, waiting for someone to change their mind.”

Emma laughed and took a cautious sip of her mulled cider. Sweet and spiced. The perfect combination. “That’s because if I kept checking my phone, I’d have dropped a tray of parsnips on it.”

Vanessa smiled against her mug. “Mm. That, too.”

They settled into the quiet, sipping their drinks and allowing the weight of the day to fall away. Emma stared at the Christmas tree across the room—busy with mismatched ornaments and Daisy’s handmade crooked star near the top—and felt a familiarache swell behind her ribs. Love and fear always seemed to live close together in her chest. Tonight, love was winning.

“You know,” Vanessa said, “I was thinking earlier while I was wrestling the foil over that stupid turkey?—”

“Hey, go easy on him. He didn’taskto be the centrepiece.”

“I was thinking,” Vanessa continued. “About all the versions of us that have lived in this room.”

Emma sighed. “You’re going to make me cry before I tackle the sprouts, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” Vanessa bumped her knee gently. “Remember the first Christmas we had here together? Just us.”

“It’s a Christmas I’ll never forget,” Emma said with a smile. “Because it was the first time I felt like Ireallyhad you.”

“It was magical to me.”

“It was magical to me too, babe.”

“I was terrified I’d fuck it all up and you’d have a terrible day because of me.” Vanessa lay her head back on a cushion and sighed. “Then you turned up in the hallway after being at Lauren’s, wearing that ridiculous bobble hat, and I knew I had nothing to worry about. Because it was you…and it was me…and it was always going to be perfect, no matter what.”

“Hey! That bobble hat had character.”

“Mm. It also had its own postcode, it was that big.” Vanessa lifted her head, grinning. “But it was the first time I realised that this could be a home again. Not just walls and noise as it had been since Richard left.”

Emma swallowed. She remembered all of the moments with Vanessa. The good, the bad, the terrifying. But that Christmas really had been beautiful. They’d wanted to be alone for it, and Lauren and Rob had wanted to be alone for theirs. With Daisy’s arrival imminent, it made sense to enjoy the calm before the storm. “I loved you, so I never once worried about that day.”

“I know.” Vanessa tightened her hand around her mug. “And then there was the year after. Lauren was still a bit on and off about us being together, even though she kept telling us everything was fine.”

“Yeah. That was the year when she kept looking at me like I’d stolen you from her.”

“You didn’t steal me,” Vanessa scoffed. “I wasn’t an object to be stolen. But look at us now. We rebuilt and it’s more beautiful than ever.”

“We did, babe.” Emma saw the years stack themselves on top of one another. The prickly cold months of cold shoulders and half-answers. The tentative coffees and the clipped apologies that eventually softened into real ones. The day Lauren had walked through the door and flopped down on the couch like she used to. “We really did.”

“And then last year…” Vanessa trailed off.

“You were in pain and discomfort still.”

Vanessa shifted a little on the couch. “Mm.”