"Good thing I'm in love with you anyway."
"Extremely good thing. Because I'm completely, stupidly in love with you too."
She kissed Sasha then, right there on the dirty platform with hundreds of people rushing past and an announcement about the 18:47 to Bristol echoing overhead. It was nothing like the carefully orchestrated kisses in romantic films, all perfect lighting and swelling music.
It was better.
Sasha tasted like train coffee and tears and promise. Her hands were warm against Victoria's face, solid and real and finally, finally here. When they broke apart, Victoria kept her close, foreheads pressed together.
"So what now?" Sasha asked.
Victoria thought about plans and timelines and all the careful structures she'd built her life around. Then she thought aboutSasha covered in soil, about summer afternoons in Cornwall, about choosing happiness over perfection.
"Now," she said, "we figure it out together."
And for someone who'd spent her entire life knowing exactly what came next, the uncertainty felt surprisingly like freedom.
Epilogue
Victoria had a plan.
She always had a plan, obviously. Plans were what separated functional adults from chaos agents like her younger siblings. But this plan was special. This plan involved a ring currently burning a hole in her sock drawer, a gazebo at sunset, and an entire Christmas holiday to execute the most romantic marriage proposal in Sullivan family history.
"Do we really need three jumpers?" Sasha called from the bedroom, her voice muffled by what sounded like an open wardrobe. "It's Cornwall, not Antarctica."
"It's December in Cornwall," Victoria replied, folding another cashmere sweater with geometric precision. "Trust me, you'll want layers."
What she didn't say:And I need there to be snow, perfect crystalline snow dusting the gardens while I get down on one knee, because I've pictured this exactly and I refuse to propose in the rain like some soggy Victorian novel.
Sasha emerged with an armful of clothes that looked like they'd been selected by closing her eyes and grabbing randomly. Which, knowing Sasha, they probably had been. "Your familyknows I own exactly one nice outfit, right? Everything else is basically garden wear with delusions of grandeur."
"My family adores you. You could turn up in a bin bag and Sophie would still think you were the bee’s knees." Victoria plucked a shirt with a mysterious stain from the pile. "Though perhaps not this one. There’s dirt on it."
"That's mulch, not dirt. Completely different."
"How reassuring."
They'd been living together for four months now, ever since Sasha finished her horticulture qualification and Victoria had casually mentioned that her new Manchester flat had excellent southern light for plants. The suggestion had been calculated to sound offhand, like she hadn't spent three weeks nervously rehearsing various ways to ask Sasha to move in.
Sasha had said yes immediately, showed up with two bags of clothes and seventy-three plant cuttings, and proceeded to turn Victoria's minimalist flat into something that actually felt like a home.
It was terrifying. It was perfect. It made Victoria want to lock it down permanently before Sasha realized she could do significantly better than a recently-reformed workaholic with control issues.
Hence: the plan.
"I can't believe it's been almost two and a half years since that first summer," Sasha said, sitting on the edge of their bed with a soft smile. "Me fake-dating Ambrose and you pretending you didn't fancy me."
"I never pretended anything. I was simply… strategically withholding information." Victoria abandoned her packing to cross the room, sliding her arms around Sasha's waist from behind. "In my defense, you were slightly intimidating."
"Me? Never." Sasha leaned back against her, and Victoria pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, something botanical and fresh that still made her slightly dizzy.
"Excited to see everyone?" Sasha asked.
"Mostly excited to see how enormous Cathy's gotten. Archie sent photos. She looks like she's smuggling a beach ball."
"Be nice. Growing a human is hard work."
"I'm always nice."
