Page 34 of Love Grows

“Fuck. Oh, fuck! Yes!” I clutched at the doona, the back of Steph’s head, the edge of the bed, back to the doona. I didn’t know what to hold on to but it didn’t matter, really. Steph had hold of me and she was taking me for a ride.

Finally, after giving my clit another quick flick with her tongue which sent a remaining shudder through my body, she made her way up and snuggled into the crook of my neck.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” she said.

“Right now, I’m tachycardic. Christ, Steph. That was incredible.”

I felt her smile against my skin.

“I’ve read enough sapphic novels to get the gist but I had absolutely no idea I needed to hear ‘good girl’. But, I really, really like it,” Steph whispered.

I chuckled and the movement jostled her head.

She pulled back to look at me. “Will you stay the night?” There was vulnerability in her question.

“I’d love to.”

ChapterNine

Golden Wattle

(Acacia pycnantha)

A child-friendly, without toxins, indigenous species. It grows quickly into a hardy, spreading shrub or small tree. Produces fluffy, golden blossoms in late winter. Aboriginal uses: the hard wood can be used for making tools, weapons, and musical instruments. The pollen and sap have uses in making medicine, glues, dyes, perfumes and are used for ceremonial decoration. Dried/hard seeds can be ground into flour.

It was just as well that the next day was Saturday and Lucas was working because Steph and I were completely useless and any boss worth their salt would have fired both of us. Lots of “Hi gorgeous” amongst the pots. Many kisses in between rows. It was a wonder that the plants weren’t leaning in just to suck up all the happy hormones to create a cocktail with their chlorophyll.

Only one piece of news broke into our thoughts.

“It’s a boy!” Lucas shouted from the front of the store. “Check your phone, boss!”

Sure enough, after I unlocked my phone and Steph and I read the text, we discovered that Kahlia had delivered—early like I’d said she would—a gorgeous baby, now forty-eight-hours old, with the brightest of blue eyes and the gummiest of smiles. Well, sort of a smile. More like the internationally recognised expression of “What the fuck?”

I sent off a capital letter reply, with attached congratulatory GIFS.

On Sunday, we closed early and, after meeting Lucas on the footpath outside the shop, we attached ourselves to the trio of Jules, Pip, and Ted to walk the block and a half further down our street to Derek and Kahlia’s place.

Steph had brought a bag of goodies, including boxes of sensible things like bum wipes and expensive things like a handmade wooden toy that I knew was over the hundred dollar mark.

“It looks like you went to the Walker’s Bulk Grocery Warehouse and filled a trolley.” I grinned at her, taking in the soft breeze blowing her hair about. Her twinkling eyes. Her smile that I had claimed as mine. Delicious.

“Not exactly but I know people who know people, so it was easy to get my hands on…” She swung the bag to finish the statement.

“I must get to know your people who know people. They might like to meet my people.”

Steph giggled. “We can arrange that one day.”

We were without Mr and Mrs G because they went to Greek church on Sundays to engage in the Paschal celebration of the Resurrection, which, according to Mrs G was, “Better than the church my parents took me to when I was the little girl. Pah! The boring tone. I am helping with the afternoon teas at this parish only because the worshippers, they are happy and appreciate my coffee. I make the cakes, yes?”

They sent their best wishes and a giant basket of onesies and bits and bobs that they thought were necessary for a baby. Lucas was lugging that in his arms as we slowly—Ted’s pace—made our way along the footpath.

Derek and Kahlia’s little flat was a one-bedroom shoebox but the landlord had gone all-out on the fixtures and accommodations for Kahlia’s wheelchair. Kahlia reckoned their place could be the cover of an International Disability Awareness brochure because the landlord had sent in a team to widen corridors, drop bench heights, organise a roll-in shower, build ramps at the front and back doors, and install air-conditioning for when summer and Kahlia had their seasonal argument. It helped that the landlord scored a healthy rebate from Disability Services Australia, but even still, it really was extensive and Kahlia and Derek were thrilled.

Denise, Kahlia’s mum, opened the door, peered at the six of us, and blanched.

“Oh! Hello. What a large group of people!”

I stepped forward. “Hi, Denise. We’ve spoken on the phone before once or twice. I’m Angel Whitlock, the owner of Dig It. This is Steph and Lucas my colleagues, Jules and Pip from Coffee and Crystals and Ted from Ted’s Used Books. We’re just here to see Kahlia and Derek and the new arrival. And you, too, of course.” I grinned at her, and she seemed to relax.

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