Page 54 of Emma
Vanessa squeezed Emma’s hand. “Well, then let’s practice.”
Emma tilted her head. “Practice being happy?”
“Practice letting it in. Practice believing that you deserve it. Because you do.”
Emma visibly swallowed as she stroked her thumb slowly over the back of Vanessa’s hand. “Thank you. For never walking away from me, even when I’m not the easiest person to love.”
“Youarethe easiest person to love. What’s hard is watching you carry things alone. What’s hard isnotbeing able to fix it for you.”
Emma looked away for a moment and sighed. “Next Friday is going to change everything.”
“I think so, too.” Vanessa hesitated, then added, “But even if it doesn’t change things the way we hope, it’s still a beginning. And you’ve already done the hardest part, Emma. You showed up.”
A server appeared beside them and placed their meals on the table. A creamy mushroom risotto for Vanessa and Emma’s usual spicy arrabbiata with grilled prawns. Emma’s eyes lit up, and Vanessa gave a satisfied smile in the server’s direction.
She focused back on Emma, who was already spinning her spaghetti around her fork, and allowed the moment to settle in her mind. “I knew Italian would be the right call tonight.” For so many nights during Vanessa’s own recovery, Emma had insisted that Italian food warmed the heart and soul. That it was always the answer when life felt a little tough. Right here and right now, Vanessa absolutely agreed. “Don’t you think?”
Emma looked up, her forkful of pasta hovering close to her mouth. “Thismight just be the best thing that’s happened to me today.”
Vanessa took a bite of her risotto and moaned softly. “Second-best, surely?”
Emma lifted a brow. “Second?”
“You got to have a date with your wife,” Vanessa said as she grinned. “That’s surely up there at number one.”
“You’ll always be number one, babe. Always.”
They ate slowly, talking about nothing and everything. A student of Vanessa’s had handed in a piece of work riddled with AI, and one of Emma’s Year 10 students had accidentally kicked a football at one of the lunch staff, breaking her arm in three places. It wasn’t anything spectacular in terms of conversation, but it was with Emma, so Vanessa didn’t care. And for the first time since Emma had learned the truth, they didn’t circle back to Freya, or Carmen, or to the sting of the past.
Instead, it moved forward.
After dinner, Vanessa ordered espresso and tiramisu for them to share, though she already knew Emma would steal most of it with no remorse. Sure enough, two bites in, Emma was cradling her espresso like a prize and scooping up the last of the mascarpone with an unapologetic grin as she repeatedly moaned her approval.
“What?” Emma lifted a shoulder mid-chew. “You said I deserved to be happy. I’mbeinghappy.”
Vanessa slipped cash into the leather wallet waiting on the edge of the table and lifted a brow. “By stealing my dessert?”
“I’m. Being. Happy.”
Vanessa laughed and leaned back, allowing the warmth of the moment to settle in her chest. She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed this—they’dneeded this—until now. This softness, this steadiness, this…love.
Because moments like this were what they’d fought for over the years. Moments like this were what they kept choosing.
As they stood to leave, Vanessa placed a protective hand on Emma’s lower back, guiding her gently through the tables towards the exit. The cold air hit them as they stepped outside, but neither of them minded.
The night was clear, calm, and for the first time since life had changed for Emma…full of possibility.
Vanessa glanced sideways, watching Emma gaze up at the stars for a moment, her arms folded, and a small smile on her lips. “I’ll be right beside you next week,” Vanessa said quietly. “I’ll always be by your side, Emma.”
Emma turned to her. “I know.”
“And no matter what comes from that meeting,nothingchanges this. Nothing changes us.” Emma stepped in, wrapped both arms around Vanessa’s neck, and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to her lips. When they pulled apart, Vanessa whispered, “Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The atmospherein Ellie Hamilton’s office was heavy with expectation as Emma sat in one of the chairs around a large circular table, her hands clenched in her lap. Vanessa sat beside her, calm and composed, her quiet presence grounding Emma more than she could say. On the other side of the desk sat the social worker, a woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and a calming air about her. Emma felt both nervous and reassured.
To Nia’s left sat Carmen and Ben.
