"You mean the stakeout where we finally stopped pretending?"
"That's the one." Erin's voice carried amusement. "You were so convinced I was going to compromise the case by being too emotional."
"And you were convinced I was going to get someone killed by being too aggressive." Lena navigated the familiar streets, noting the small changes that five years had brought—new businesses, updated crosswalks, the rainbow flag that now flew permanently outside city hall. "We were both right."
"And both wrong."
"Mostly wrong," Lena agreed. "Though you did nearly get yourself killed."
"And you did go into a burning building without proper training."
They fell into comfortable silence, the kind that only came with years of shared understanding.
"Think Lavender will make us dance?" Erin asked as they turned toward the cafe.
"Probably."
"Think you'll step on my feet?"
"Definitely."
"Looking forward to it anyway."
Lena reached across the console to squeeze Erin's hand. "Always."
The café's purple door came into view, already propped open with the sound of laughter spilling onto the sidewalk. Lavender's Café had been transformed for the evening, purple streamers woven through the exposed beams and fairy lights casting warm pools of light across mismatched tables. The Victorian building hummed with conversation and laughter, filled with what looked like at least half of Phoenix Ridge's LGBTQ+ community and their allies.
Lena followed Erin through the crowd, automatically scanning faces with the ingrained habit of someone who'd spent years in law enforcement. But instead of potential threats, she saw familiar smiles, raised glasses, and the easy comfort of people celebrating in their own space.
"Lena! Erin!" Lavender Larwood appeared through the crowd, her graying hair woven with small purple flowers and her arms open for hugs. "You made it!"
"We wouldn't miss it," Erin said, accepting Lavender's enthusiastic embrace. "Twenty-five years, that's incredible."
"Twenty-five years of mediocre coffee and good company," Lavender corrected with a grin. "Though the coffee's gotten better. Mostly."
Chief Diana Marten materialized beside her wife, carrying two wine glasses and wearing the slightly overwhelmed expression of someone who'd been graciously accepting congratulations all evening. "Thank god you're here. Maybe now people will stop asking me about retirement plans."
"Are you retiring?" Lena asked.
"Eventually. When Diana's ready to stop running Phoenix Ridge single-handedly," Lavender said, earning an eye roll from her wife.
"I don't run anything single-handedly anymore," Diana protested. "That's what good leadership teams are for."
Lena caught Erin's amused glance. Five years of community events had taught them to recognize when Diana was about to launch into her collaborative leadership philosophy, a speech they'd heard at least a dozen times.
"We should let you get back to your guests," Erin said diplomatically. "But congratulations on the anniversary. This place"—she gestured around the crowded café—"it matters to a lot of people."
"Including us," Lena added, surprising herself with the easy honesty.
Lavender's expression softened. "That means everything, coming from you two."
They made their way deeper into the celebration, stopping to chat with familiar faces. Dr. Josephine Mars was entertaining a small group of women near the coffee bar with Ember Thompson and their daughter Natalie, now twelve and apparently explaining something urgent about marine biology to anyone who would listen.
"Aunt Lena!" Natalie launched herself at Lena with the fearlessness of a kid who'd grown up surrounded by Phoenix Ridge's finest. "Did you know that octopuses have three hearts?"
"I did not know that," Lena said solemnly. "That seems excessive."
"That's what I said," Ember laughed. "But apparently they need them for blood circulation."
