She didn’t move closer. She waited.
Maggie felt the weight of that patience, the space Evie was deliberately leaving for her to choose.
And God, that made it harder.
“This is a mistake,” Maggie said, but her voice had lost its edge.
“Maybe,” Evie replied. “But you still paged me.”
Maggie laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You’re impossible.”
“So are you,” Evie said. “You just hide it better.”
The air between them felt charged, thick with everything unsaid.
Maggie pushed off the desk, taking a single step forward. Then another. Closing the distance but moving slowly, giving herself time to stop, giving Evie time to step back.
Neither of them did.
They stood close now. Close enough that Maggie could see the way Evie’s breathing had changed, the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze dropped briefly to Maggie’s mouth before returning to her eyes.
“If we do this,” Maggie said quietly, “we can’t go back.”
“I know,” Evie whispered.
“It will complicate everything.”
“I know.”
“People will?—”
“Maggie,” Evie interrupted gently. “I know.”
Maggie exhaled shakily, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from Evie’s face; the touch light, tentative. Testing.
Evie leaned into it, just slightly.
That small movement undid something in Maggie.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Maggie admitted, her voice raw in a way she rarely allowed.
“Do what?”
“Let someone in.”
Evie’s eyes softened. “You already have.”
The kiss, when it came, was deliberate.
Not rushed. Not frantic.
Maggie closed the final inches between them, one hand coming to rest at the side of Evie’s neck, thumb brushing along her jaw. She paused there, one more chance to pull back, one more moment to be rational.
Then she kissed her.
Slow. Searching. Real.
Evie responded immediately, her hands finding Maggie’s waist, pulling her closer but not demanding. Just present. Just there.
