Page 62 of Emma

“And Freya,” Emma finished.

They let that sit for a moment. Emma rubbed her thumb along the rim of her mug, her eyes focused on nothing in particular.

“How does it feel,” Vanessa asked, “knowing you’ll see her with a different kind of permission now? No secret hope and no hiding from her.”

“I feel like I’m holding a bubble in the palm of my hand and I’m trying not to burst it.”

Vanessa turned fully, folding a leg under herself. “Talk to me.”

Emma rested her head against Vanessa’s shoulder and sighed. “I keep reminding myself of what Nia said. That we should take any next steps slowly. That everything would be on Freya’s say-so. I think it’s a good idea.”

“That sounds like a plan that is best for everyone.”

“I know.” Emma glanced up at her. “And for once, I want to be the boring teacher who follows the rules. Properly. No improvising or trying to do the right thing.”

Vanessa slowly brushed her fingers through Emma’s hair. “Boring teachers are criminally underrated.”

“Don’t tell my students. It’ll ruin my street cred.”

Vanessa’s hand stilled midway through Emma’s hair. “You have street cred?”

“Year 9 thinks I’m cool.” Emma lifted her head and frowned when Vanessa grinned back at her. “What? They do!”

Vanessa snorted. “Baby, Year 9 thinks the vending machine is cool.”

“Don’t undermine my authority.” Emma squeezed Vanessa’s knee. “There’s one thing I’m still stuck on.”

“Tell me.”

“Boundaries.” Emma’s jaw flexed. “Where theyactuallyare and where theyshouldbe. There’s the legal stuff, which Nia was clear about. But then there’s school policy, and professional conduct, and whatever line exists between being her teacher and being her sister.” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want to step out of line anywhere.”

Vanessa let the weight of that settle. “Okay. So let’s name the rooms, shall we? School is one room. Life is another. We don’t drag furniture from one into the other without checking with the people who live there, too.”

Emma considered that, her eyes narrowing a little in thought. “No secret meetings on school grounds. No emotional ambushes in the corridor. No…sneaking her a chocolate bar with a note attached like I’m twelve.”

“Tempting, though,” Vanessa said, nudging Emma’s shoulder gently.

“Devastatingly.” Emma scrubbed a hand over her face. “I’ll start on my letter to her tonight. I’ll keep it simple and go from there. I don’t want to give her too much too soon, you know?”

“And maybe copy Ellie into it?” Vanessa offered. “Not the contents, necessarily—unless you want to—but at least let her know that you’ve reached out. Transparency is your friend right now.”

Emma winced but nodded. “Ihatethe idea of looping my boss into my private life.”

“You’re not,” Vanessa said as she squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “You’re looping her in on your professional life, which happens to be woven through with your private one. She already knows. This is just you proving that you can be trusted with careful steps.”

Emma’s shoulders dropped a little. “Right.”

“And copy Nia in, too,” Vanessa added. “Even if it’s just a ‘this is what I’ve done, here’s the tone, here’s the boundary I set’. Let the people with clipboards keep their clipboards up to date.”

Emma laughed. “You and your clipboards.”

“You married a woman who alphabetises the spice rack. This is on you.”

They sat with that small glow of shared humour for a moment; it took the sting out of everything heavy. Vanessa shifted closer and pressed a shoulder to Emma’s.

“What do you expect tomorrow?” Vanessa asked quietly.

Emma looked towards the lawn, where the grass needed a cut that they’d both pretend not to notice for another week. “I expect she’ll be with her friends. That she’ll be different in a group than she is alone. I expect she probably won’t look at me, and that I’ll want to make that mean something it probably doesn’t.”