“Can’t help myself, I just want to touch you. It’s all I think about any time you’re away from me.” Billy laughed and chased her around the island, coming up behind Rosa as she stopped and flicked the kettle back on. Her arms threaded around Rosa’s waist, her lips finding Rosa’s neck again, this time playfully, teeth grazing, breath warm.
“Billy,” Rosa giggled, squirming as the kettle began to hiss.
“Oh. My. God!” The voice stopped them both in their tracks. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
Billy and Rosa both turned and found Imogen standing in the doorway.
Chapter eighty-one
Imogen had woken with a thirst. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but the little she’d had felt refreshing—like a decent nap. She hadn’t even changed into her pyjamas. She’d just kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, straight under the covers.
In socked feet, she made her way down the stairs, ready to get a glass of water and then go right back to bed. But as she quietly crept down, she heard voices and laughter.
And then she was at the kitchen door.
Her mothers were kissing.
She could barely contain her excitement.
“Oh. My. God!” she exclaimed. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
Billy and Rosa both turned slowly, like naughty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
“Imogen,” Rosa said, her cheeks flushed—whether from Billy’s attention or her daughter catching them, she wasn’t sure.
“Mum? Ma?” Imogen stepped into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
“I…uh…” Rosa stepped forward, then stopped, turning to Billy for help.
“We were going to tell you tomorrow,” Billy said. “We’ve been exploring our relationship, and we’ve decided to give things another go.”
“If you…if that’s okay with you, obviously,” Rosa chipped in.
Imogen’s mind went into overdrive. “You’ve been exploring? Like this whole time?” She grinned, breathless, like she’d just won something.
“No,” Billy said, her voice not quite as composed as usual. “It’s been these last few weeks.”
Imogen’s eyes narrowed at them both. “So, like…all the times we’ve hung out, you two have been at it?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Rosa said, guilt washing over her.
“I would,” Billy muttered—and got an elbow in the ribs for it.
Imogen’s grin faltered. “Wait. You were going to tell me tomorrow.” Her voice tightened. “Why didn’t you just tell me already?”
“Because we needed to be sure…” Rosa said.
“Sure?” Imogen’s voice rose. “I’m your daughter. Surely, I’m the one who should be in the know about these things?”
“What’s all this noise?” Meredith called, coming down the stairs. “I thought you were bringing me a hot chocolate.”
Her voice tailed off as she entered the kitchen and found the stand-off—Imogen on one side, Rosa and Billy on the other, looking very much like they’d been caught.
“Oh.” She pulled her robe tighter. “So she knows?”
Imogen swung around to face her Gran, eyes wide with shock. “You knew too?” She turned back to her parents. “Gran knew. You told Gran, but you didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Imogen,” Meredith said. “They didn’t tell me. I worked it out.”
