“How can you be happy with this?” Darcy was obviouslyfed up with being ignored and flapped her arms to get attention. She turned to Amanda. “Your daughter is dressing like a man, and you’re happy for her!”
Amanda looked Rory up and down and turned to Darcy. A sharp look that she hadn't seen in her mother’s eyes before blazed out at Darcy. Rory gulped. Her father had shown his acceptance, but her mother had been suspiciously quiet. Rory had put it down to her needing time to process what Rory had presented her with.
“Rory isn’t ‘dressing like a man’.” Her mother used air quotes and imitated Darcy’s voice so well Rory had to stifle a laugh. The condescension rolled off her towards Darcy, and she continued. “Rory is dressing like Rory. She is her own person now, one that doesn't fit into any of your perfectly curated boxes.” Amanda grasped Rory's hand, and Rory looked into her mother’s blue eyes. They were full of love and a warmth Rory hadn't seen for years. The party girl her mother presented to the world was gone and, in her place, a loving mother stood before Rory. “I don't see a man, I see my daughter, my child, owning who she is and saying ‘fuck you’ to the world!”
“Amanda!” Rory's grandmother clutched her chest in astonishment. “I don't see that there is any need for such language.”
Rory’s mother grinned mischievously before kissing Rory gently on the cheek.
Rory suddenly realised that her father was standing slightly behind her with his wife just in front of him. Gemma was on her other side. Her family were closing in and protecting her from Darcy. The wave of love emanating from all of them almost knocked her over.
Gemma squeezed her hand and turned to Darcy with an impish grin on her face. “You were too short-sighted to seehow great Rory is, and for that I have to thank you. If you hadn’t been such a useless fiancée, we wouldn’t have got together.”
Darcy’s face twisted into something grotesque, and for a moment Rory felt sorry for her. With so much hate in her heart, she would never find true love, not like Rory had found with Gemma.
The bell rang, indicating that the audience should start making their way to their seats.
“We probably won’t meet again.” Rory hoped her words would be interpreted as the farewell they were. “I wish you all the best for your future.”
Rory waited for Darcy to turn on her heel and walk away before she sagged against Gemma.
“I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then.” She chuckled.
“I don’t care.” Gemma pulled her in for another kiss. “I love you, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
Rory returned the kiss with all the love she felt for Gemma until George cleared his throat pointedly. Rory felt a flash of heat cross her cheeks. She had never blushed so much as she did when Gemma was around. She met George’s eyes and gave a small smile of apology.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He wrapped a hand around her biceps and pulled her hand in for a handshake. He gripped her hand firmly and looked into her eyes. “Do not break her heart.”
“I won’t.”
It was a simple affirmation, but one she knew in her heart she would keep. She busied herself by retrieving the bags and shawls and ushered the family back into the theatre.
They had the last act of the opera to watch, and it was a blessed relief to be swept up in the action and music onstage. Rory settled into the darkness. For some reason, they had moved around in the box. Phyllis had pointedly stated that Rory and Gemma should sit in the front row of the box where she could keep an eye on them. They had taken the middle two seats with Phyllis to Rory's left and Mary to Gemma's right. The parents sat behind them. The action moved quickly and tripped along with the music. It was fun and light, with the polka music tripping and bounding like a mountain spring bouncing along the rocks. She thought back to all the family holidays, all the innocent touches and moments with Gemma and realised that they had all been leading here to this moment.
As the protagonist on stage got his comeuppance and champagne was poured over his head, Rory felt her father sit forward to whisper in her ear. “Shocking waste of champagne, eh!”
She chuckled, and he patted her shoulder before immediately sitting back as his mother-in-law sent him a glare. Rory gripped Gemma's hand and sat back to enjoy the music. A wave of contentment washed over her, and the realisation of finality hit her. This was who she was. She fiddled with her bow tie and looked at Gemma. A frown crossed her brow, and she leaned in.
“Are you okay?” Gemma used the moment to slide a hand onto Rory’s thigh. A ripple of desire washed over her as Gemma’s hand innocently traced patterns on her inner thigh.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m me, I’m finally me.”
There were more words to be said, but this was not the moment to say them. Applause rang out from the audience at the culmination of the action on stage. Rory felt her heart soar along with the applause. As was traditional at this opera, the Radetzky March rang out as an encore. Rory andher family rose to their feet to gleefully clap along with the action on stage. This was the moment, Rory thought. She turned to Gemma but stopped as she saw tears welling in Gemma's eyes.
“You are you.” Gemma spoke directly into Rory's ear. “But you’re also mine! My Rory and I love you.”
Rory ignored the whoops and cheers from the audience as the cast took their bows on stage.
“And I love you Gemma, I love you so very much.” Then, oblivious to her grandmother’s look of disapproval at such actions in public, she took Gemma's face in her hands and kissed the woman she loved.
EPILOGUE
Rory sat back with a gin and tonic in one hand and Gemma's hand in the other. Around them, chaos was unfolding, and she was happy to observe it from afar.
“I knew they would make a fuss,” Gemma grumbled as she sat next to Rory. They were perched on chairs in the middle of the great hall at the hotel that had become theirs over the last couple of years.
