Page 63 of Paradise Pride

“You came.” Meghan met her eyes and lost track of everything around her. She’d missed those eyes so much, and she’d missed that smile. The lips she’d kissed more times than she could count, the wild curls she used to run her fingers through, the hands she used to hold. The doubt that had lingered in the back of her mind all along—the doubt that had nothing to do with Florence and everything to do with herself—was gone, and she’d never been so sure of anything in her life. “You came,” she said again, her eyes welling up as she fell around Florence’s neck. She held her until Florence let go and inched bank; she looked emotional too.

“Is this okay?” Florence asked. “Do you mind if I’m here?”

“Mind? I’m so happy you’re here.” Meghan smiled, lowering her eyes to her lips. “Do you mind if I kiss you?” Shaking on her legs, she was vaguely aware that people might be looking their way, but her desire to kiss Florence was stronger than any trace of insecurity still lingering.

Florence looked shocked, but she didn’t shy away and, inching closer, she cupped Meghan’s face. “Please,” she whispered.

Meghan let out a soft breath as their lips brushed, and when she pressed firmer against her, it felt perfect. The noisy pub was suddenly a lot quieter; no doubt her friends and family had spotted what was going on, but she blocked that thought out. This was their moment, and she desperately wanted Florence to understand she was ready. The kiss was explosive. It sent euphoric waves throughout her entire body; warm and lovely and so, so right. Hot tears mixed as they trickled down their faces, and she could taste the salt on Florence’s lips. Meghan had her back, and she wasn’t going to let her go this time.

It was Florence who pulled them out of the moment, and she broke away with a startled expression. “I think we should probably save this for later,” she said as her eyes darted to the two long tables in the back from which two dozen people were staring at them. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?”

“It’s too late for that question now.” Meghan smiled as she ran her hand over Florence’s cheek. She was buzzing; part of her wanted to jump up and down and scream with excitement, and another part of her was fighting the nervous flutters that re-surfaced. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Kim called me.”

“I figured as much.” Meghan hesitated but only for a moment before she took Florence’s hand. “Will you join us?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

Meghan didn’t really know what to say, as all eyes were fixed on her. The only one who didn’t look shocked was Kim, who gave her a thumbs up and mouthed, ‘You can do this.’

“Everyone, this is Florence,” she finally said. “Florence is…she’s…” She glanced at Florence, who gave her a warm, encouraging look. “I’m… I’m in love with her.”

62

Florence

Florence’s first twenty-four hours in London had been a whirlwind. Seeing her father again last night was emotional, and then there were a ton of things to organise before heading to the West End today. Until an hour ago, she hadn’t been sure if she’d even make an appearance. Nervous and insecure beyond belief, she’d thought of messaging Kim to call it off, but as she sat in the pub opposite—drinking a double gin and tonic for liquid courage—and saw Meghan arrive, her physical reaction was off the charts. Her breath caught as Meghan turned around before she entered the pub, almost as if she knew someone was watching her. Florence froze in her seat; her palms felt clammy, and her heart started beating wildly. That was the moment she knew she’d never be at peace if she didn’t try again. Because how could she let Meghan go if she made her feel like this? Still shaken and at the risk of having her heart crushed again, she’d crossed the road to meet the woman who made her feel insane in the best and worst ways.

Meghan was wearing a tight, black turtleneck dress and a long, black trench coat, and her hair fell down her back in waves so shiny and bouncy Florence fought the urge to run after her and touch it. And then, when they were face-to-face, Meghan kissed her, and she’d melted all over again as if nothing had changed. Things had changed, though. It was a kiss that felt real to the very essence of her core, but it was also a statement in front of everyone, and Florence still found it hard to believe Meghan had done that. She’d never expected her to come out to her friends and family. All she wanted initially was for them to be able to go outside without feeling like Meghan was ashamed of being seen with her. She’d come as a friend, but there was nothing friend-like about the way Meghan had greeted her, and she was still trembling in the aftermath.

Now, sitting between Meghan and Kim at the end of one of the tables, she tried her best to remember everyone’s names. Meghan’s colleagues stared at her in an awkward yet friendly manner, and to everyone’s amusement, a few of Meghan’s friends took the ‘I knew it’ approach. Florence doubted anyone had seen it coming, but she smiled and played along. The sentence, ‘I really had no idea’ had been thrown around a few times too, and Meghan’s mother especially seemed puzzled.

“Why didn’t you tell me before? You know your father and I wouldn’t have a problem with it,” she said, reaching out to pat Meghan’s shoulder. “We’ve already discussed my phase of—”

“I know. I needed time, Mum,” Meghan said, swiftly cutting her mother off before she gave her a smile. “But thank you for saying that. I’ll fill you in tomorrow, but tonight, I just want to celebrate my birthday. You’ll get to know Florence soon enough,” she added, squeezing Florence’s hand under the table.

“Okay, no more questions. I’m just so glad to see you’re happy.” Meghan’s mother leaned around Kim and smiled at Florence. “You should come for dinner soon, so we can get to know each other better. I make a great Sunday roast, and Meghan claims my gravy is better than anyone’s.”

“I’d love that. Thank you.” Florence looked her and her husband over and took in Meghan’s mother’s ‘Duffy hair’, her attractive features and her toned body. Meghan’s father’s heavy metal T-shirt stretched taut over his muscles, and he wore a cap with the logo of a building company that she imagined he only took off in bed. Meghan had talked about her parents, but it was still a little shocking to see them in comparison to her own mother. “You both look so young. How long have you been married?” she asked, purely to start a conversation, as she already knew the answer.

“Thirty-five years and a bit, and we’re still very happy,” Meghan’s mother said with a hint of pride. “We got married when I found out I was pregnant with this little mysterious munchkin. A bundle of surprises, she is.” She winked at Meghan. “So, how long have you and Meghan been together?”

Meghan shot her mother a warning look. “Mum, I said we’d discuss it later.” She turned to Florence and lowered her voice as she leaned closer. “I’m sorry. I should have anticipated questions like this. I don’t even know where we’re at and how you feel about this and—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Florence assured her. “Just tell her the truth. Your truth.”

“Mytruth?” Meghan shook her head. “I didn’t even know what my truth was until I missed you so much that I had no idea what to do with myself.”

“Then whatisyour truth?” Florence asked, fixing her eyes on Meghan’s.

“That I’m madly in love with you and want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” She gave Florence a shy smile. “But I’m not sure you want that too, and I’m sitting here counting down the minutes until I have you to myself so we can talk about it.”

“Then how about this?” Florence whispered in her ear. The moment felt right, and she wanted clarity as much as Meghan did. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Meghan’s lips pulled into a huge grin, and she let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s the first time anyone’s asked me that so blatantly.”

“It’s a simple question.”

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