Once they had finished their drinks, she escorted Gemma and the grandmothers to the restaurant and settled into her chair. She would dearly love to pull Gemma's chair close to her and put her arm around her, as her father was doing to her mother. But she knew they couldn't. Perhaps she and Gemma could talk at some point in the next few weeks about telling the parents about their new relationship. It had been torture all evening having Gemma so close without being able to express her affection for her. Her body ached for a touch from Gemma, and a few times she had found her hand automatically reaching for her girlfriend. One thing she would concede is that this sneaking around was an enormous turn-on and she could just imagine theirexplosive lovemaking when they were finally alone in their hotel room.
Because they had been late for dinner, there was no time to linger, and they had to rush to get back to their seats for the final act. All the rest of the group decided it would be sensible to use the loo before going back into the theatre, so Rory found herself holding several handbags and shawls by the entrance to their box.
“I wondered if you would have a box.” Darcy's unwelcome voice cut into Rory's reverie. She had been enjoying a delicious daydream about Gemma and their hotel room and didn't want to leave that fantasy for the reality of Darcy and her cutting remarks.
“Yes.” Rory replied curtly before checking herself. Just because Darcy had been a rubbish fiancée didn't mean that Rory needed to be rude to her. There had been some affection between them at some point. It wasn't Darcy's fault that what Rory thought had been love with Darcy had been utterly eclipsed by her feelings for Gemma. “Gemma’s grandmother is a patron here and always books a box for the families.”
“But you never brought me here?” There was a hint of hurt in Darcy's voice.
“It honestly never crossed my mind,” Rory answered honestly. “You always seemed very resistant to doing anything outside London.”
Darcy sniffed and pursed her lips. It was a look Rory remembered from their many arguments over the years. It was generally used when Rory was right, and Darcy was annoyed at that fact.
“I’m not surprised you’re with Gemma. You always spoke of her with such reverence when we were together.”
Rory hated that Darcy would even speak Gemma'sname. She tightened her grip on the mountain of handbags she had been left with and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“We have a lot of history, and I am extremely fond of her. She's helped me realise who I am.”
Darcy rolled her eyes, and Rory dug her fingers into the crystal-encrusted handbag her grandmother had left her to hold.
“Well, I guess if Gemma is happy dating a…” Darcy wafted her hands in the air instead of using the words Rory knew she was thinking.
Before she could reply, Gemma's perfume engulfed her, and Rory felt her entire body relax. Her girlfriend was here, and she didn't have to face Darcy alone.
“I am very happy, thank you, Darcy.” Gemma pressed a gentle kiss to Rory's cheek. The warmth from her lips spread throughout Rory's body, and she felt a strength she hadn’t realised she had rise in her.
“Rory is wonderful, and I'm so happy to have her back in my life.” As Rory's hands were full, Gemma wrapped an arm around her, and Rory felt the gentle curves of her breasts and hips pressing into her. “She’s the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
“Ugh.” Darcy's face was twisted into a grotesque sneer. Rory had never seen her look this way in all their years of dating. She wondered how it was that she had put up with this woman for so long when she was so obviously not the right person for her.
“I just don’t see how you can call yourself a lesbian when you’re dating someone who looks like that.”
Rory felt an icy chill wash over her. Her greatest fear was that Gemma would reject her for embracing her masculine side. She didn't need Darcy to bring that fear to theforefront and shove it in her face. A gnawing chasm opened in her stomach, and Rory felt a wave of nausea roll across her.
“Looks like this?” Gemma waved a hand up and down Rory. “A woman who is hot as fuck and is dynamite in bed? A woman who is loving and loyal? Who is great at her job but happiest when we are at home cuddled on our sofa?”
Rory saw a flash of hurt cross Darcy's face but couldn't care at that precise moment. The words that Gemma was saying were a balm to her tortured soul.
“A woman who is brave enough to say to the world, ‘Fuck your gender norms, this is who I am’? Someone who is stronger and braver than you will ever be? Yeah. Such a hardship to be with her!”
Gemma’s voice had risen in volume, but Rory didn't care. Her heart was full of love for this woman. Gemma saw her, understood her and accepted her. When she had been in this spot three months ago, she wondered who she was and how she fit into the world. She had thought she might be trans, but that had never fully sat right with her. Gemma had shown her that she could still be a woman and embrace her masculine side. That she could still be attractive in men’s clothes.
“But don’t you like women, you know, who look like women?”
Rory rolled her eyes as Darcy doubled down on her questioning. This transphobic vitriol that was pouring from Darcy's mouth was more than she could cope with. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She was done with Darcy interfering with her life. Darcy was in her past, and Gemma was her future. She opened her mouth to tell Darcy where to go, but Gemma beat her to it.
“Yes, I like women, but I love Rory!” Gemma's voice roseagain and stopped abruptly as she realised what she had said.
Rory stared open-mouthed at her girlfriend. “You love me?” She frantically looked around for a place to put the pile of bags and shawls she had been left with and eventually dumped them on the floor, so her hands were free. She cupped Gemma's face with her hands and pulled her in for a delicate kiss.
“I do.” Gemma replied before pressing their lips together in a loving kiss. “I think I’ve loved you since I was fifteen.”
Rory felt an indescribable joy rush through her. She planned to confess her feelings to Gemma tonight, but she hadn’t thought Gemma would feel the same. She’d hoped that over the months and even years, Gemma might fall in love with her too but hadn't expected it to happen so soon. Just as she was about to tell Gemma how she felt, a shuffling nearby caught her attention.
She looked around Gemma and met her father’s eyes. She gulped and looked around to see the families waiting for them. Mary was dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief that she always seemed to conjure up from mid-air. Her own grandmother had misty eyes that she would no doubt blame on allergies or dust. The mothers had clasped their hands together. She looked at George, who had a knowing grin plastered on his face, and finally settled on her father’s face. The pride shone from his face. He was the first to move towards them. He clasped his hand on Rory's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“I knew you looked happier.” He pulled them both in for a hug, and Rory rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of the cologne he had worn without fail for the last thirty years. He smelled of home, and love. She relaxed into his arms.
