Page 29 of Love Grows

* * *

It wasTed who gave me the answer.

“Is she a reader?”

I squinted at him. “Based on absolutely no information whatsoever, I guess so.”

“Books are always appreciated. Even if the person doesn’t read them, they generally like the way the books look artsy on a bookshelf.”

I laughed. “I reckon I’m right that Steph will enjoy reading what I give her.” I slid past a pile of books precariously perched on the edge of the step ladder and wandered up to Ted’s small but growing queer fiction collection. I ran my finger along the spines. It was a visceral sensation of happiness when I huddled into a shelf, touched the books, and angled each one out so the title was revealed before I pushed it back into place.

“Ooh,” I whispered, tugging out the new Milena McKay. I propped that against the line of books, then chose a sapphic thriller and a romantic comedy that sounded like fun after reading the blurb. I bundled all three into my hands and went to pay.

“No need, Angel love.”

“Yes need, Ted darling,” I countered, glaring at him, and he laughed.

“Righto, then. Next time I visit Dig It, I expect to pay as well.”

I tapped my card, then held up the three books as a sort of salute. “No chance.”

* * *

I openedthe pannier and grabbed the bag holding the hand-crafted vanilla bean ice cream and the books wrapped in silvery paper and a crossed ribbon, then I made my way into the foyer of Steph’s apartment block.

I stopped when I got to the panel of intercom buttons bearing people’s names. Apartment eight’s button was nestled in amongst the thirty-two options listed in four vertical lines. I blinked. Thirty-two apartments. The building was a decent size but seemed much taller than only eight storeys if I was working on a standard apartment block arrangement of four units per floor.

I walked back out onto the footpath, looked up, and silently counted. Sixteen. That meant only two apartments per floor. Wow. I was right. This area was swanky.

I wandered inside, mentally preparing myself for Steph’s huge apartment. A tiny wave of imposter syndrome reared its head.

“It’s Steph and she inherited the apartment and it’s not her fault she lives like a rich person, because she doesn’t act like it, so shut up,” I mumbled to myself as I poked at the button next to the name ‘Thatcher’.

“Hi,” said Steph, her voice tinny in the intercom. “Come on up.”

After a brief trip in the lift, and a knock on her door, I was welcomed with the lovely sight of Steph in jeans, a light cashmere jumper, and bare feet. Swoon.

I pointed to her feet. “You have a beach in your apartment?”

Steph looked down and laughed. “No, but I do have wooden floors.”

“Ooh. Yes, please.” I toed off my low cut motorcycle boots, picked them up, then crossed the threshold and left the boots inside the door with my jacket.

I handed her the bag and the parcel. “These are for you. Dessert. The fancy kind of ice cream that comes in teeny tubs so I bought two. And the parcel is to say thank you.”

“For what?”

I stepped closer, my socks sliding a little on the polished floorboards. I reached up and pulled her face towards mine, then lightly kissed her lips. “For dinner. For you. For just because.” I peppered her lips with more soft kisses at each statement. She grinned, then hugged me, the bag holding the ice cream swishing softly at my back.

“Well, I accept any and all gifts. Thank you.” She pointed into the apartment. “Make yourself at home. I’ll pop this into the freezer.”

Making myself at home meant following Steph to the kitchen because I had taken a look at the lounge room on the way and it looked like a space that needed a tour before making myself comfortable. Knick knacks, photos, books—yay!—and beautiful furniture. The kitchen was just as lush and just as homey. I hitched myself onto a stool at the marble bench and cupped my chin in my hands, then Steph dragged around another stool and mimicked my pose. Our faces were close.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Lamb shanks in red wine.” Steph raised an eyebrow

“Really? That’s one of my favourite meals.” Steph was ticking boxes. So, so many boxes. The other type of dessert was a strong possibility.

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