Archive of Our Own

It’s just a typical day at the bakery.

Mara gets in early to help her boss with the prep, since apparently she makes the best croissants in Eternia. She’s not sure if that’s actually true or if it’s just her boss trying to get her to do extra work – probably the latter, actually.

She doesn’t mind doing it. After all, it’s not like she has much else to do during the week. Not like her older sister, Marlena, who juggles work, a husband, and two excitable eight-year-old children. That’s not a life that Mara will ever have. As much as she wants to get married one day, it’s not going to happen. She knows it, and she’s accepted it. Children… that’s a whole other thing, something that’s probably impossible for her too.

No sense in dwelling on what she can’t have.

Rather, she tries to appreciate what she has. A job she enjoys, an apartment that she’s comfortable in, a sister she’s extremely close with, a niece and nephew that she adores, and a mother who is basically her best friend.

She has a lot of things. And one day, she might be able to have the things she can’t. She’s just got to stay positive and have hope.

There are a few phone orders to complete that morning. A cake for a birthday, a set of twenty-four cupcakes for some party, things like that which are due for collection later in the day. It’s mostly Mara’s job to do those, and she gets all of the orders ready for their designated collection time before going out front to help the girls behind the counter once the bakery is open for customers.

She takes a couple orders herself and then notices a few dirty tables that she needs to go clean. Grabbing the cleaning stuff from behind the counter, Mara walks around towards the table, not looking where she’s going at all and immediately regretting it when she crashes into someone and feels the oddly familiar feeling of icing down her front.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a woman’s voice, nervously polite, and Mara looks up to say that it’s okay and finds her words stuck in her throat. Standing in front of her, clutching a crushed cake box, is a 5’11 goddess of a woman, blurting out polite apologies.

“It’s okay,” Mara manages to get out, and the woman cuts herself off immediately. Mara grabs a few napkins from a nearby table and wipes herself down, trying to compose herself. “Happens all the time when you work in a bakery. I think most of my clothes are covered in icing anyway.”

They probably are, Mara realises as she takes in the woman’s perfectly ironed, completely spotless dress. There’s a rigid, polite smile on the woman’s face as she responds. “I still apologise. I’m not usually so clumsy.”

“It’s okay, really,” Mara says, and out of the corner of her eye, she notices the gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring on the woman’s finger. Not like it matters – Mara knows to be very careful when it comes to her sexuality, especially with the way things are right now. Her own brother-in-law makes all sorts of comments about the filthy homosexuals and the AIDs they’re spreading around. Nobody knows about her besides an ex-girlfriend and a few friends she’d met in an underground gay bar at college.

She’s certainly not going to put herself in danger because she thinks some random married woman is pretty.

The woman in question peers anxiously into the cake box to examine the damage. Mara can see for herself that the cake is basically unsalvageable – it’s partially crumbled in on itself, and half of the icing is currently down her front.

“Don’t worry, I can get you a replacement cake, it’ll just take thirty minutes or so,” Mara says as she notices how distressed the woman seems, “and I’ll grab you a coffee or something while you wait. On the house, okay?”

“Thank you,” the woman says, and Mara gestures towards a clear table. Without a second thought, the woman sits down, and nervously asks, “the cake… it’s for my husband’s birthday party tonight. It was supposed to have ‘happy 24^th birthday’ iced on it in blue.”

“We can do that,” Mara assures her, fairly certain that 24^th birthday is lettered on her shirt at the moment, “I’ll just let my colleagues in the kitchen know, and then I’ll grab you that drink for while you wait.”

“Thank you,” the woman says, “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s fine,” Mara assures her again, “like I said, I’m certain my wardrobe is half icing anyway. No harm done.”

The woman still looks nervous, but she nods and pulls her chair up to the table. Mara flashes her one last smile before heading to the back and letting the baker know that they need a second cake as soon as possible.

Then she makes a coffee for the woman and takes it back out to the table, placing it in front of her. The woman jumps in surprise as she does, looking up at Mara with a practiced rigidity and politeness.

“I’m sorry,” the woman says, “I was in my own little world for a moment.”

“No worries,” Mara shrugs, and she notices just how tense the woman is. Maybe she had somewhere to be and waiting for the cake is going to throw her whole day off schedule. “The cake won’t be too long now. I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.”

The woman nods, and she doesn’t look any less nervous. Mara decides to leave her be, heading back to work and actually managing to clean off the table she was headed for when she collided with her. The woman sits quietly, sipping on her coffee, her back rigidly straight and her legs crossed in a ladylike pose that Mara had never really gotten the hang of.

As she walks past to put the cleaning supplies away, she feels the woman looking at her. Mara flashes another smile and says, “I’ll go check in the back and see how long it’s going to be,” assuming that’s what the woman wants.

“Actually,” the woman says, and it seems like the first thing she’s said that doesn’t feel calculated or pre-planned, hidden behind a wall of tense politeness, “could you- um, what’s your name?”

The question takes Mara by surprise, but it also seems like the woman is surprised by her own request. She ducks her head embarrassedly, and Mara wonders why she’d asked. Then again, the woman doesn’t seem so sure herself.

“If you don’t mind me asking, of course,” the woman quickly adds, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

“Totally not rude at all,” Mara says, “unless you want to know so you can report me to my manager for being a klutz, but in all honesty, she already knows that.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t like that,” the woman says, clearly assuming she’d offended Mara, “I wouldn’t- it was an accident. I was just… curious, that’s all.”

“I was only joking,” Mara replies, “and to answer your question, my name is Mara.”

The woman smiles. It’s still restrained, but genuine. “It’s nice to meet you, Mara. I’m Hope.”

Pretty, Mara thinks, but she doesn’t voice it. There’s a dangerous line, and she knows when not to cross it. “Nice to meet you too, Hope. I’ll go check on the cake for you.”

The cake is ready when she goes into the back, and when she brings it out boxed up, Hope looks weirdly disappointed. She takes the cake in the box, thanks her politely, and disappears out of the bakery doors.

Mara puts the woman from her mind as her shift continues, but she can’t help but feel like something about her lingers.

Hope doesn’t know why, but she can’t stop thinking about the woman from the bakery.

Mara. She seemed different. She looked young, around her age, but she seemed like she had things figured out. She seemed comfortable, in a way Hope has never been.

She thinks that the only way she’ll get the woman out of her head is if she goes to speak with her again, to understand why she’s so intriguing. She waits until her husband goes out to work, and then, feeling oddly like she’s doing something wrong, she heads out without doing any of the chores and makes her way to the bakery.

It’s a long walk, but Hope isn’t at all reluctant to make it. Not when she feels like something is waiting for her. Whether it’s just to talk to the woman, ask her how she’s so… comfortable, so figured out and sure of herself, or… something else. She doesn’t know. It’s probably just simple curiosity, mixed with loneliness and boredom.

Hope had felt that way as long as she can remember. The curiosity, she knows to stifle. Her life has been laid out for her clearly, by her parents, and now by her husband. School, college, marriage, children. Her mother had taught her all the ways to be a good wife, despite Hope never entirely grasping it. She cooks, cleans, does everything her husband Mark asks her to do, and she’s supposed to be excited that they’re trying for a baby.

Instead, she feels lonely. All of her friends are ones she shares with her husband, or ones back in her hometown she’d moved away from during a murder spree. She’s bored, too – she’d given up a good job at a veterinary office to stay home and take care of the house, since that’s what Mark says she’ll be doing once they have children. He’ll go out and earn the money, like a man should, and she’ll stay home and care for the house and their children, when they’re there.

That’s why, when she walks into the bakery, she feels a nervous rush of adrenaline. She glances around for the woman, for Mara, but she can’t find her. She’s not behind the counter, and Hope steps up to buy a bottle of water just to peer back into the kitchen and see if she’s there.

She’s not.

Disappointed, Hope pays for her water and turns around to head out of the doors. Naturally, just like the last time, she crashes into someone because she’s far too stuck in her own thoughts.

She drops the bottle of water in her surprise, and it thuds onto the floor and rolls away. She looks up, meets those playful grey eyes she’d met the other week, and feels a strange sensation in her stomach when Mara laughs, picks up her water bottle, and offers it out to her.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Mara jokes, and Hope searches for something to say as she takes her water bottle, “hey, at least it wasn’t something covered in frosting this time, right?”

“Yes,” Hope manages, and then realises the manners that had been drilled into her from early childhood, “I’m very sorry for crashing into you. Again.”

“No worries,” Mara smiles, “how’d the cake go over?”

“Oh, um, yes,” Hope starts, clears her throat, and continues nervously, “my family and friends loved it. I didn’t actually get to try any because, well…” Mark had told her he didn’t need her getting fat, “um, it was so popular, and I was busy making sure the party was running smoothly.”

Mara smiles. There’s something so electrifying about it. “Well, we can’t let you keep missing out. Come on, the cupcakes are to die for. Granted, they won’t be as good as the days when I’m working, but I’ll treat you to one.”

Though she knows she isn’t doing anything wrong, Hope feels guilty when she nods and follows Mara towards the counter. “So, um, you’re not working today?”

“Nope,” Mara flashes a smile, and pauses to greet the woman behind the counter and order two cupcakes and two hot chocolates, “it’s my birthday, so I booked the day off. Twenty-nine today. I’ll also be turning twenty-nine next year, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Hope laughs politely at the joke. “Do you have any birthday plans?”

“The usual,” Mara says, “I’m going to my sister’s for dinner later, not that it’s really relaxing, because her two kids always want to play and I love them too much to say no.”

Wanting to know more about her, and not understanding why, Hope decides to ask questions. Her mother always told her not to – it wasn’t ladylike to come off as nosy – but something about Mara makes her want to forget all of that. “How old are they?”

“They’re eight,” Mara says, “twins, and little partners in crime. Adam has so much energy it makes me tired just watching him, and Adora’s the same but at least she knows when it’s time to just chill out and watch a movie.”

“That’s sweet,” Hope comments as Mara passes her one of the mugs of hot chocolate, “do you have any children?”

As she follows Mara over to a nearby table, she glances at her left hand. There’s no wedding band, or engagement ring, or anything to suggest she’d just taken one off.

“Nope,” Mara smiles, pushing one of the cupcakes over to the other side of the table as Hope sits down, “do you?”

“Not… not yet,” Hope answers uncertainly, and her stomach drops in a way it shouldn’t when she thinks of her husband, “my husband and I are trying, though. It’s…” she pauses before she can admit it’s expected of me, “it feels like the natural next step.”

Mara shrugs. “That’s usually how it goes. Marriage then kids. How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” Hope twists her wedding ring on her finger, “it was actually a few weeks after my twentieth birthday.”

“That’s pretty young, for marriage,” Mara raises her eyebrows, “high school sweethearts, or something?”

She’d always known Mark, and always been expected to marry him. Their mothers had been close friends their whole lives, and the moment they had children a few months apart of the opposite sex, it was basically destiny. At least, in their minds. And Mark’s too. They were close as children, before Hope really understood what was expected of her. When he asked her out in their freshman year of high school, she felt like she had no choice but to accept.

Don’t get her wrong – she does love him. After all, they were best friends when they were kids. But something just feels… off. She can’t quite grasp what that is.

“Something like that,” Hope says quietly, “our moms were best friends, so we grew up together.”

Mara’s smile is a little more controlled when she comments, “that’s cute.”

Hope knows that it’s something a lot of people dream of, or at least romanticise, the childhood best friends to lovers thing. She feels horribly ungrateful with the way she feels about it.

“So, um,” Hope pauses to take a sip of her hot chocolate, “how long have you worked here?”

“Couple of years,” Mara says, “this is my full-time job, but I help out part-time on a friend’s farm. Mostly with the animals.”

“Oh, I love animals,” Hope blurts out, and then blushes and quiets herself. Her mother would be livid if she were here. Don’t speak unless you’re asked to, she’d whisper in her ear.

This time, Mara’s smile is that real, electrifying one. “You know, my friends are always looking for extra help, if you’re looking for anything. Do you work?”

Hope can imagine Mark’s reaction if she told him she was going to help out on a dirty, muddy farm with cattle. He’d be horrified. 

“Well, I’m a qualified vet, but I’m not… I’m not working right now,” Hope explains, “my husband thinks it’s better for me to stay home. Like I said, we’re trying for a baby, and… well, I suppose we’re both very traditional. I’ll be staying at home with the kids when we do have them, and right now, I’m just… learning how to be a good wife.”

Mara frowns thoughtfully, “you said you’re twenty-four?”

“Yes,” Hope says, “why?”

Mara murmurs something that sounds a whole lot like too young. If Hope was brave enough, or if she didn’t hear her mother’s voice scolding her in the back of her mind, she’d ask Mara what she means, but she keeps quiet like she’s supposed to.

“Just curious,” Mara finally answers, “well, at least you still have time to go out with friends and things like that.”

“Not- not really,” Hope says quietly, “I go out with my husband and other couples sometimes, but…” but I don’t really have any friends of my own. “Anyway, um, enough about me. Are you- um, are you married?”

Mara smiles sadly and shakes her head. Hope wonders if that’s a sensitive topic. “No. That’s not- I’m never getting married.”

“Never say never,” Hope says, “you might meet a man who changes your mind.”

Mara laughs like she knows something more, and Hope doesn’t understand what’s so funny. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”

She chuckles lightly to herself and Hope still doesn’t get the joke. “Why’s that so funny?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Mara waves the question away, “anyway, what brings you here today? Picking up another cake?”

Hope isn’t going to tell her that she came to see her, because that’s all kinds of embarrassing, and maybe a little creepy. “Just… bored, I suppose.”

It’s not the entire truth, but it’s still true. Hope is bored, stuck at home all day, cooking and cleaning like the good stay-at-home wife she’s supposed to be. Her mother had been the same way, and she always seemed so happy. Why is Hope so unfulfilled by it when it’s supposed to be what she wants?

Mara smiles again, sympathetically this time, and that’s when Hope realises that this amazing, carefree woman pities her. It sets off all of the alarm bells, and she regrets this entire thing. Why had she even bothered coming down here? Just to run into some woman she accidentally crashed into the other week?

“I, um, I’m sorry,” Hope stands up quickly, forgetting the cupcake and the rest of her drink, “I have to go. Sorry.”

She turns and rushes out of the bakery, not hearing Mara’s surprised, “wait, what?”

“Mara!”

Adora thuds into her excitedly, wrapping her arms tightly around Mara’s waist as she hugs her. She glances up, a big grin on her face, already babbling about something, a mischievous spark in her blue eyes.

Mara laughs, hugging her back, and waving Marlena away when she says loudly, “Adora, mija, that’s Aunt Mara to you.”

“Oh, leave her be,” Mara laughs, “we’re best friends, right, Adora?”

“Yeah,” Adora nods as Mara lets her go, “we are.”

Adora beams up at her, and Mara smiles back, squeezing her shoulder lightly. Physically, Adora and her twin brother Adam are the spitting image of their father Randor – blonde hair, blue eyes, white as can be – but the kids have their mother’s heart and soul.

“Mami says it’s your birthday today,” Adora announces, “is that true?”

“It is,” Mara says, “guess how old I am?”

Adora hums in thought, frowning to herself. Adam runs out of the lounge and shouts, “I know, I know!”

“She asked me, doofus,” Adora reaches out and shoves him lightly, “not you.”

“You’re just jealous because I know more than you,” Adam retorts, “she’s thirty today.”

“Ouch,” Mara cringes, “don’t age me, kid. I’m twenty-nine today.”

Adora laughs at him. “Haha, doofus. You got it wrong,” she sticks her tongue out at him, “loser.”

“Adora, por favor,” Marlena looks at her sternly, “no seas cruel con Adam.”

Adora rolls her eyes and reaches out to grab Mara’s hand. “Come on, let’s go play.”

“We should play on the Nintendo!” Adam says excitedly, “it’s brand new, dad bought it for us the other week. We’ve got loads of games.”

“We played on the Nintendo all day,” Adora complains, “I’m bored of that.”

“How about we play hide and seek?” Mara suggests, knowing that they fall for this every time. “You guys go hide first, and I’ll count and then come look for you. Make sure you pick a good spot!”

Adora drops her hand and goes racing off to find a hiding space, but Adam raises his eyebrow. “You are coming to find us, right?”

“Of course, I’m counting right now,” Mara says, and as he rushes off after his sister, she laughs and says to Marlena, “and I’ll be counting for as long as it takes you to pour a glass of wine for me.”

“You got it,” Marlena smiles, nodding towards the kitchen, “happy birthday, by the way. I’ve got your present through here, and Adora insisted on getting you something separately. That girl – no pun intended – adores you.”

“She’s a sweet kid,” Mara smiles, knowing that Adora will be hiding in her usual spot – underneath her bed, “you know, if you and Randor need a night off, I can always have the twins for a sleepover.”

“I might have to take you up on that,” Marlena says, “sometimes I just want to rest when I get home from work but the kids need sorting, and god knows that Randor isn’t going to give up his late afternoon naps.”

Mara resists the urge to roll her eyes. It’s times like these when she’s actually grateful to be a lesbian, when she hears the way men act. Marlena works, then comes home and looks after two children on her own.

It’s like Hope at the bakery – it sounded a whole lot like her husband had made her give up her job because he believed women should be at home, cooking, cleaning, and looking after the kids. At least Marlena still has her job, where she gets some escape from being a mother for a little while.

It was hard not to feel sorry for Hope, when she was talking about how she’d been a stay-at-home wife since her husband had decided it was time for children. She’s twenty-four years old, and it sounds like she’s barely been able to live her own life. It’s far too young to shackle herself into a life of being a stay-at-home mom, when she didn’t even look like she particularly wanted that.

Still, it’s not for Mara to judge. She doesn’t know the woman, and only ran into her today because of pure coincidence. She doubts she’ll ever see her again, especially after her more than abrupt exit. She’s not even sure why she spoke to her in the first place, why she’d extended the invitation for a cupcake and a hot drink. After all, the woman is married, and Mara is never usually so reckless.

She takes a few sips from the glass of wine Marlena offers out, and then laughs. “Alright, I better go find the kids. I’m already guessing that Adora’s under her bed, because that’s where she hides every time, and Adam will be in his laundry basket, which he’ll have very subtly dumped out onto the floor before climbing in.”

Marlena chuckles lightly. “Yeah, they’re not exactly experts at hide and seek.”

Mara finds Adam first, in the laundry basket as predicted. He goes to tear off and find Adora, but she stops him and points to the big pile of dirty laundry he’d dumped out on the floor.

“Tidy that up first,” Mara says, and when he pouts and rolls his eyes, she adds, “come on, you know your mom will kill me if I let you leave your bedroom like this. And I can’t die on my birthday, that would just be sad.”

Adam laughs. “Okay. But when you find Adora, tell her that you haven’t found me yet, because I’m going to jump out and scare her. She screams like a little girl.”

“She is a little girl, remember?” Mara laughs. “But I’ll keep your secret, as long as this room is spotless when I come back.”

He salutes her – probably something his father had taught him – and gets busy tidying up his dirty clothes. Mara heads across the hall to Adora’s bedroom and ducks down to peer under the bed, but surprisingly, she’s not there.

She’s almost impressed, but then she hears a quiet giggling coming from the closet and turns around just in time to see the door, which was open a crack, shut quickly.

“Hm,” Mara says out loud, “I wonder where Adora could possibly be.”

More quiet giggling. Mara smiles and pretends to look around the room. “She’s not under her bed. And she’s not hiding in her laundry basket.”

The closet door bangs open, and Adora jumps out, pouncing on her and laughing loudly as Mara pretends to be scared.

“I was in the closet,” Adora says, “you thought I was under my bed, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Mara says, “you got me.”

Adora smiles triumphantly, and grabs Mara’s hand, pulling her over to the bed. “You sit down. I want to show you something.”

She goes rifling around in a drawer in her nightstand, throwing things out across the room unceremoniously as she looks for the thing she wants.

“What is it?” Mara asks. “Did you get a new toy?”

“Nope,” Adora fishes a notebook out and sits down on the bed next to Mara, flipping it open. There’s a long list of notes. They look like times, in an adult’s handwriting. “I started running, like real, grown-up running. There’s a track team at school, and I’m gonna join it in the fall. Dad and I have been practicing when he’s not at work, so I can be the best on the team, and these are my scores. They’re really good, dad says.”

“Oh, wow,” Mara answers, “are you going to be an Olympian one day?”

Adora frowns. “What’s that?”

“The Olympics, silly,” Mara says, “they’re the best athletes in the world, and they all compete and represent their countries. They can win medals made out of gold.”

Adora’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really,” Mara tells her, “and if you work really, really hard, you can win a gold medal too.”

“I’m gonna do it,” Adora announces, “I’m gonna be the best Oly-Olmpy- whatever you said, that there’s ever been. I’m gonna win every gold medal for running the fastest, and I’ll even give one to you because you gave me the idea. I bet I could beat you in a race! Let’s race right now!”

“We have to find your brother, remember?” Mara tells her, “Adam’s still hiding.”

“Forget about him, he’s smelly,” Adora crinkles her nose in disgust, “all boys are.”

Mara quietly agrees. “They are, aren’t they?”

“Uh-huh,” Adora nods, “boys suck. Come on, let’s race. One, two, three, go!”

She shoots off out of the room before Mara can stop her, and after a few seconds, she smiles, laughs, and pushes herself up off Adora’s bed to go tell Adam that he’s not going to get to jump out and scare his sister like he thought. He gets over it quickly, getting distracted by playing with one of his monster trucks.

“Tired yet?” Marlena asks as Mara comes back into the kitchen and finishes up her glass of wine. “Not exactly the quiet, relaxing birthday dinner you probably wanted.”

“Nah, that’s okay,” Mara says as Adora comes barrelling into the kitchen and tries to jump on her back, shouting about horses, “I’m hanging with my favourite niece.”

“I’m your only niece,” Adora says matter-of-factly, hopping up for a piggyback ride, “so I have to be your favourite. Now, come on, horsey, take me to the lounge, I want to play Nintendo.”

Mara raises her eyebrows. “I thought you were bored of Nintendo?”

Adora shrugs and clings onto her shoulders tightly, “I changed my mind. And anyway, old people like you don’t know how to play, so I always win. Come on, let’s go!”

“Okay, okay,” Mara exchanges a smile with her sister and then takes Adora through to the lounge, “has anyone ever told you that you’re really competitive?”

“Yeah,” Adora says as Mara puts her down on the couch, “dad says it’s a positive quality for a sportswoman.”

“All of your qualities are positive,” Mara says, “because you’re my favourite niece.”

Adora smiles. “You’re my favourite aunt.”

“I’m your only aunt,” Mara teases her, “so that means I have to be your favourite.”

Adora rolls her eyes, but she leans over and hugs her tightly, burying her face into Mara’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, Mara. I love you.”

Mara squeezes her tightly in return. “I love you too, Adora.”

“Ooh, this place looks nice.”

Hope’s eyes widen, alarm bells ringing as her mother gestures towards the bakery. The bakery that she’d been avoiding ever since she came here on a stupid whim, and realised that the woman she’d been strangely interested in – for reasons she still can’t understand – was merely pitying her.

“No,” she blurts out, and then feels the usual shame at her mother’s stern, irritated look, “I mean- I just… I thought we’d get something a little more… like real food.”

“I don’t think we’re hungry enough for a sit-down meal,” her mother says tensely, “a pastry will suffice for myself. After all, Hope, you don’t want to go putting any more weight on. Once you’re married, it creeps up on you. You want to stay fit and healthy for Mark’s sake. You don’t want him to lose interest in you, do you?”

Hope doesn’t give that a response. It’s partially what her mother wants from her, silence, but she also doesn’t know what to say. Her mother might die of shock if Hope admitted that she didn’t care whether or not Mark was interested or attracted to her.

She knows she should care. After all, when they go for the occasional nights out with friends, as she’s drinking with the other women, all they seem to talk about is their husbands. Is it wrong for her to want more?

She doesn’t know what she wants, but she knows she isn’t satisfied. Maybe it’s ungrateful of her. After all, she knows where she’s headed. She’s by all accounts settled down into the rest of her life. Lots of people would kill for that stability.

“Come,” her mother clicks her fingers, pushing the door to the bakery open. Her expensive heels click across the floor as she enters, and Hope follows reluctantly. She isn’t wearing heels, nor has she ever, despite her mother’s insistence that it’s the only footwear that women should ever require.

Because she’s unfortunately so tall, heels are unbecoming, according to mother. Men don’t like it when women are taller than them, she says. Ballet flats would serve for Hope, she says, despite how uncomfortable and unsupportive they are.

Her mother makes a beeline for one of the best tables, the couches by the fire. She sits down primly and properly, legs crossed, not taking up too much space. When Hope stays standing, she rolls her eyes. “Sit.”

“You have to go to the counter to order, mom,” Hope explains, “there’s no table service.”

Her mother turns her nose up at the mere idea. “Oh, well that’s just wrong.”

“What would you like?” Hope asks tiredly. “I can go up and order it.”

“There’s no need for that!”

Hope tenses when she hears that voice. The last thing she needs is the woman who makes her so messy and awkward for whatever reason speaking to her in front of the mother who insists she always performs proper politeness and femininity.

But she turns around anyway, and meets Mara’s kind, grey eyes. “Don’t worry about going up to the counter. I can take your order, Hope. After all, you don’t want to lose the best seats in the house. I’ll go grab a list of the cakes and hot drinks we’ve got available.”

Mara flashes that easy smile and heads over to the counter before Hope can protest. Frankly, she was a little stunned that Mara remembered her name.

Her mother examines Mara as she walks away, that familiar look of disapproval on her face. “I was not aware that you’d gone and made an… interesting new friend.”

Hope sits down and murmurs, “we’re not friends. She just works here and I guess I’m a semi-regular.”

Again, her mother doesn’t look impressed. “She knew your name.”

“This was where I got Mark’s birthday cake from,” Hope says quickly, “I had to give my name to place the order, and pick it up. I suppose she’s just good with names.”

Her mother doesn’t say anything other than a quiet thank you as Mara brings a copy of the cake and drink options over to them, but as she walks away again, she frowns, shaking her head. “Unbelievable, how some people allow their daughters to act like… well, men.”

Hope realises why she’s so disapproving. Both of her parents believe that men are built to be out working, and women are meant to stay at home and care for the children and the household. Along with that, her mother believes in traditional masculinity and femininity – right down to the clothes on people’s backs.

Mara’s dressed in a simple blue checked flannel shirt, buttoned up and tucked into a pair of jeans. On her feet are a pair of black boots that even Hope can agree probably weren’t from the women’s section. She’s practically a walking example of how her mother believes women should never dress, under any circumstances.

“I mean, look at her,” her mother continues, “she looks like a lumberjack. If I were her mother, I’d be horrified.”

Something in Hope flares up protectively, and she can’t quite understand why. But all of her learned behaviours are forgotten in an instant as she says sharply, “it’s not very ladylike to insult someone who kindly offered to take our orders here so we don’t lose our seats.”

Her mother’s jaw clicks shut, but she looks angry. When she finds her words, they aren’t positive ones. “You know you are supposed to treat me with respect. I will not tolerate your insolence.”

Hope shrugs lightly. “It’s not insolence, I’m just stating facts.”

Her mother doesn’t dare say anything as Mara comes over with a little notebook and that carefree smile on her face. “So, have you guys decided on what you want?”

“We’ll have two lattes and two slices of the lemon cheesecake, please,” Hope says, because she doesn’t trust her mother not to be rude, “by the way, I like your shirt, Mara.”

She can feel her mother seething beside her, and Hope takes pleasure in it. At least, that’s what she attributes the happy, bubbling feeling in her stomach to when Mara smiles and says, “thank you! One of the few that isn’t covered in frosting, actually.”

It feels like an inside joke, like they’re friends, and suddenly Hope realises that maybe she wants that. A friend, one that’s just hers, not someone she has to share with Mark. “I’ll stay sat down, then. Since we have a track record of running into one another.”

There’s a playful spark in Mara’s eye as she tucks her pencil and notepad in her pocket. “That might be for the best. I’ll be right back with your order.”

Hope finds her gaze lingers as Mara walks away, but she remembers who she’s with when she hears her mother say bitterly, “did you do that just to spite me?”

“No,” Hope answers quietly, “she’s a nice woman. Just because you don’t like the way she dresses, it doesn’t mean she’s some horrible person.”

Her mother rolls her eyes, and Hope takes quiet triumph when she changes the subject. She knows she’s won, when her mother can’t think of anything else to say. “So, how’s trying for the baby going?”

It’s a touchy subject – Hope isn’t entirely sure that it’s a good idea, to have a baby. She knows she’s supposed to want it, but she doesn’t know if she does. “It’s fine. Nothing so far, but…”

“I have some vitamins that are supposed to help with your fertility,” her mother says, “it’s important to take supplements and keep healthy. Childbirth is no easy feat, you know, and your sister will tell you the same thing. Though, with your… larger frame, you should have no problems. Perhaps it is a good thing you got so tall.”

Hope opens her mouth, but she doesn’t know what she’s going to say. She doesn’t get a chance, either. Mara puts their drinks down in front of her and smiles reassuringly. It’s the same look from the other week, the one Hope had assumed was pity. Now she’s realising it wasn’t, it’s something else… comfort?

“Enjoy, ladies,” Mara says as she puts a tray with two cheesecake slices down on the table, “don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

Hope gets halfway through her latte before she makes the decision. She tells her mother she’ll be right back, and gets up, walking over to the counter, where Mara is lifting a tray of fresh scones into the display window.

Mara looks up, smiles, and asks, “what’s up?”

“Could I…” Hope pauses, and whatever tiny chance she has of second guessing herself, she doesn’t let it happen, “would it be completely out of line to ask for your phone number? Just- you know, to be totally up front, I don’t have that many friends, and you’re basically one of the only genuinely nice people I’ve ever met, so…”

Mara looks surprised, and then thoughtful. She frowns to herself, and Hope goes to take it back, but then she laughs quietly and says, “you sure your mom over there wants you to be friends with a lumberjack?”

Hope cringes. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” Mara laughs, “but I also heard you sticking up for me, so…” she smiles and scrawls a number in her little notepad and rips the page out, “here.”

Hope takes the paper and puts it in her pocket delicately. “Thank you. I… I’ll call you on Monday, if… if you’re not working…”

“I am,” Mara says, “but you could always stop by. I am authorised to give out free cupcakes to friends.”

“Yeah,” Hope nods, “okay. But you don’t need to give me free cupcakes or anything.”

Mara raises her eyebrows. “You sure about that? Not many people would turn down free cupcakes.”

“I just,” Hope pauses, “I just want to be friends.”

Mara smiles. “We are friends. And I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Yes,” Hope nods, “Monday.”

When the bell on the door rings, and Hope walks through, looking around cautiously, Mara turns around and pretends to move a few cakes in the display. She bites down on her bottom lip to hide the smile on her face.

It’s not a big deal, that she’d given Hope her number. Sure, Mara isn’t going to lie to herself; Hope is attractive, and Mara is attracted to her. But she’s entirely off limits, and Mara knows that. Hope is married, and clearly needs a friend. Mara knows how to keep herself in check. She’s used to it, at this point.

“Hello,” Hope greets her as she steps up to the counter, and Mara flashes a smile, “how are you?”

“Same old,” Mara says, “yourself?”

“Better than the same old,” Hope answers her. She glances around the bakery, realising that she’s the only customer. “Seems like a slow day.”

“Mondays usually are,” Mara replies, “thought you might liven the place up. That’s why I told you to swing by.”

“I’m a little later than I’d hoped,” Hope says, looking up at the clock on the wall, “I was aiming for one o’clock, but the house was a mess, and if it’s not clean by the time Mark gets home from work… it’s just not worth the fight.”

Mara feels that wave of sympathy for her again – she hates that Hope seems to think she has to act like her husband’s maid to be a good wife – but she doesn’t say anything. After seeing the way her mother spoke to her on Saturday, Mara thinks she understands why Hope thinks she has to do the things she does.

“Well, since you’ve been working hard, I’ll get you a croissant,” Mara says, “I came in early and baked them this morning. I’ve been told they’re the best ones in Eternia.”

“Thank you,” Hope says, “could I get a coffee too, please?”

“Coming right up,” Mara smiles, and she forces herself to look away and get the drink ready as Hope goes to sit down.

She makes Hope’s coffee, and a hot chocolate for herself, calling to her boss that she’s taking her break as she heads over to Hope’s table with the drinks and croissants. She’s over at the couch table by the fire, the one she was sat at with her mother that weekend, and Mara sits down into the couch next to her.

“Thank you,” Hope says as she takes the croissant from the tray, “for humouring me and inviting me here.”

Mara knows she probably looks surprised. “I’m not humouring you.”

Hope smiles knowingly. “Still, I appreciate you being so kind. I don’t know what it is about you, but I felt like… like I wanted to know you, when I met you.”

Mara has no idea what to say to that. Maybe that’s obvious, because Hope breaks eye contact to take a sip of her coffee as Mara tries to find something coherent to answer that with.

“You don’t have to thank me for being nice to you,” Mara finally says, “besides, I knew you’d be a good friend when you didn’t immediately try to get me fired for walking into you.”

“People have tried to do that?” Hope asks incredulously, and then coughs and composes herself. “Not that I’m assuming you walk into people on a regular basis, of course…”

“It’s okay, I’m kind of a klutz,” Mara shrugs easily, and launches into a story about her one-time nemesis, an older lady who’d reminded her a whole lot of Hope’s mother – not that Mara is going to tell the woman that. “So, this one time, there was this lady that came in one afternoon. I wasn’t the one who served her at the counter, because I was busy cleaning tables. She seemed like a perfectly normal customer, someone that was just here to grab a quick lunch and head off again.”

“Maybe she would’ve been, I don’t know. But I finished cleaning the tables, and after I put the supplies back into the back, I headed through to the bathroom, completely in my own world,” Mara says, “so I didn’t see her walking behind me, and didn’t hold the door open for her. She freaked out and ran to my manager, shouting about rude employees.”

Hope laughs, and Mara realises it’s the first time she’d heard her laugh. “All because you didn’t hold a door for her?”

“Yup,” Mara nods, “I had to apologise for being so rude, but my manager told me that she thought the woman was ridiculous the moment she walked out the door.”

“Don’t tell her I said this if she ever comes back here,” Hope starts, “but are you sure that woman wasn’t my mother?”

Mara laughs. “I don’t know. Could’ve been, to be honest. Though, she didn’t comment on my outfit, so maybe not.”

“I really am sorry about that, by the way,” Hope says, and Mara waves it off, “she’s very… rigid in her ideas of how men and women should be.”

“I got the feeling,” Mara replies, and she knows that kind of upbringing will have rubbed off on Hope. Hope had defended Mara to her mother, but that doesn’t mean she won’t run for the hills if she ever found out that Mara is a lesbian.

“I try not to be,” Hope says, almost like she knows what Mara is thinking, “for others, I mean. I… there are certain ways I have to present myself, but I wouldn’t think to tell others what they should do with their lives.”

Mara isn’t sure if she should ask why Hope has certain ways she has to present herself. Actually, she’s pretty sure she already knows why. “Unfortunately, ninety percent of the world do feel like they have the right to tell other people what they should do with their lives.”

“Yeah,” Hope breathes out, the polite defence slipping for a moment until she sits up and changes the subject, “so, have you always lived in Eternia?”

“Not technically,” Mara says, “my mom moved here from Mexico when I was a year old, after my dad passed. I don’t remember him, or Mexico, but my older sister talks fondly of it. What about you?”

“Oh, um, no,” Hope shakes her head, “I was born in Bright Moon, a small town a few hours away. Both my family and Mark’s relocated here when I was fifteen, when there was a string of murders in Bright Moon.”

“Oh, shit,” Mara blurts out, and Hope looks a little taken aback by the curse word, “sorry, I just wasn’t expecting murder.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be something you’d expect,” Hope agrees quietly, “a friend of mine was attacked by the killer, and it felt a little too close to home for my parents. Mark’s parents agreed, and because our parents had always been so close, I think they decided on a new location together. Eternia seemed like a safe place, I suppose. I finished high school, and then Mark and I went away to college together. He proposed when we graduated high school, and we married in the summer between sophomore and junior year, just after my twentieth birthday.”

“So,” Mara realises, “you’ve never had a life without him.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Hope says sadly. Quickly, she clears her throat, and then asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

Mara nods. “Sure.”

“You seem like you have everything figured out,” Hope says, “like… you seem comfortable, and happy, and… like you know what you want. I just want to know how you got to that place.”

Mara frowns at the question. Really, the only thing that made her feel comfortable with herself was accepting her sexuality, but that’s not an answer that she can give to Hope.

“I wouldn’t say that I have everything figured out,” Mara says, “maybe it seems that way because I’m older than you, but I definitely don’t know where I’m going to be in ten years.”

Hope laughs quietly. It’s not a real laugh, but a polite one. “I don’t think that’s true. No doubt you’ll have started a family of your own. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re not already married. Are you seeing anyone, at least?”

“No,” Mara quickly changes the subject, “I’m just taking each day as it goes, to be honest. I can’t say I have my entire life figured out. I’d have thought you would, though. After all, you’re married, and trying for children.”

Hope looks uncomfortable at the words, and Mara frowns. Maybe it’s a sensitive topic.

Hope sighs, glancing down at the table. She looks like she’s going to speak honestly, but at the last moment, second-guesses herself.

“Your croissants are nice,” Hope comments, “how long have you been baking?”

“My whole life,” Mara says, deciding to leave the previous topic where it was, “my mom’s always baking, and she taught my sister and I when we were kids. She still hasn’t given me her famous pie recipe, but I’ll wrangle it out of her one day.”

“I bake my own bread,” Hope admits, “I don’t like store-bought stuff. Cookies, cakes, sweet stuff like that, I’m completely hopeless with, but I can make an amazing loaf of bread. I cook too, but that’s mostly because it was something expected of me, rather than something I enjoy doing.”

Being a good little housewife for your sexist husband, Mara thinks, but she doesn’t voice her opinion. Hope is free to live her life how she wants to, and if she’s happy playing servant to her husband, then it’s not Mara’s place to tell her otherwise.

“Well, I know my way around a kitchen too,” Mara says, and before she can help herself, she offers, “you should come over for dinner one night. Take a night off from cooking.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Hope says, and Mara tells herself she’s just doing it because she believes Hope deserves a night off. Hope’s smile falters a little bit when she murmurs, “I don’t know what I’ll do about Mark, though. He doesn’t know how to cook, you see.”

Mara shrugs. “TV dinners exist. I’m sure he’ll survive for one night.”

Maybe it’s just because she’s already biased, but Mara believes that everyone should know how to cook, regardless of gender and gender roles. After all, you have to know how to take care of yourself.

“Okay,” Hope nods before she can second-guess herself, “I’ll call you to organise a day once I’ve cleared it with Mark.”

Mara can’t help herself from asking, “you have to ask his permission?”

“No, no, it’s…” Hope shakes her head quickly, “I just need to let him know and make sure he’ll be okay on his own for a night. It shouldn’t be a problem…”

She sounds uncertain, but Mara doesn’t question it. She’s already crossed too many lines as it is.

“Alright then,” Mara says finally, “let me know.”

Hope doesn’t get up the courage to talk to Mark about it until a week later.

She really hopes that Mara doesn’t think she’s rude, by taking so long to call her. It’s just hard to know when Mark’s in a good mood or not, and she doesn’t want to catch him in a bad one. He’s been especially busy at work, and the last thing he would want to hear is that he’d have to come home one night and cook a measly TV dinner for himself.

But she doesn’t want to keep Mara waiting. She wants to see her again, rush to the bakery and tell her that she can come over one night. She likes having a friend, one that’s really hers, someone she doesn’t have to share with Mark. Mara is comforting, and she feels safe to be around.

She brings it up at the perfect time – right after he rolls off her, getting ready to fall asleep as he always does after sex. Hope shifts under the covers, hating the sticky feeling between her legs, and feeling as dissatisfied as always, but never mentioning it. Sex isn’t for pleasure, her mother would say, it is for reproductive uses only.

“So, um,” Hope starts as Mark tugs the bulk of the duvet towards himself, “a friend invited me over for dinner one night. I told her I’d ask you before letting her know when I’m free, since things are busy for you at work right now.”

“Which friend?” Mark grunts tiredly. “One of the guys’ wives?”

Hope knows she shouldn’t lie, but Mark will want to meet Mara, and Hope has a feeling that much like her mother, he wouldn’t approve of Mara. She also has a feeling that they probably wouldn’t get along. “Yes. Sandra. Is it okay if I organise something with her?”

“I’m going out next Sunday,” Mark says, “for drinks with a few guys from work. You can do it then.”

“Okay,” Hope nods, rolling over in bed to face the wall, “thank you.”

He rolls over, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into himself. Into her shoulder, he smiles. “No problem, babe,” he reaches forwards, patting her flat stomach lightly, “let’s hope this is the one, yeah?”

“Yes,” Hope says quietly, “goodnight.”

As she closes her eyes and tries to fall asleep in his tight grip, she’s not thinking about whether this time trying will yield a pregnancy. Instead, all she can think about is Mara, and how excited she is to call her tomorrow and organise a dinner with her.

“I can’t do Sunday.”

“What?” Hope deflates, leaning against the wall, twirling the cord of the phone around her finger, “why not?”

“My mom always does dinner on Sunday, it’s a family thing,” Mara says, “my sister appreciates the break from the kids, since they always want to play with me. Pretty sure Adora’s already written the script for our next musical theatre performance, and she takes that pretty seriously.”

It’s a joke, but Hope doesn’t laugh. “I can’t do any other day. Mark’s out, you see, so it’s the only night I won’t have to cook for him.”

There’s a sound on the other end of the line. It sounds like Mara coughs sharply, but before Hope can ask if she’s okay, she speaks. “Okay, I suppose I could miss Sunday.”

Hope wants to say yes. Dinner with Mara is the one thing she’d been thinking about ever since the other woman had asked. She wants to accept, to get Mara to choose her, but it’s not the polite thing to do.

“No, don’t cancel your plans on my account,” Hope says quietly, “it’s alright. I’m sure we could work out another day…”

“Just because I like hanging out with you, I’ll tell Adora to give my understudy a shot at the the main role,” Mara says, “Adam will be pleased that he finally gets the lead, and you deserve a night off. Everybody wins.”

“No, Mara, that’s really not necessary,” Hope says, “go be with your family.”

Mara laughs. “I see them multiple times a week. I’m actually taking the twins out for a day tomorrow, so it’s not like they won’t get to see me this week. Seriously, Hope, it’s fine. Now, do you have a pen? You’ll need my address.”

Finally letting herself give in and feel excited again, Hope nods, and then realises that Mara can’t see her over the phone. “Yes, okay, one moment, let me just get one…”

As she jots down Mara’s address, she feels a weird buzzing sensation in her stomach and chest, one she’s never felt before.

She doesn’t realise what it means.

Hope wears her best dress to Mara’s place.

Well, it’s her nicest, according to everyone else. Hope isn’t too sure – she’s never felt like dresses suit her that much, but wears them because she’s supposed to. But her mother had given her a rare compliment when she’d worn this dress to lunch once, and Mark always likes it.

She doesn’t consider why she’s doing it, or why she’s so nervous as she makes her way up the stairs of Mara’s apartment building, pausing outside what she thinks is the right door. She double checks the address from the slip of paper in her pocket, and once she’s done that, she takes a deep breath and knocks.

It’s a good kind of nervous, Hope realises as she waits for Mara to answer the door. An excited nervous, for what she’s not sure. All she knows is that she really likes spending time with Mara, and right now is the first time she’s felt excited in…

Well, with the way it feels, she’s not sure if she’s ever truly been excited.

Honestly, she’s more excited right now than she was on her wedding day, but she pushes the thought from her mind as the apartment door swings open, and she meets Mara’s kind grey eyes.

“Hey,” Mara smiles, and Hope feels something skip in her chest, “come on in. Dinner’s in the oven, shouldn’t be too long. Would you like a glass of wine?”

Hope nods as she steps inside the apartment. It’s small, but not in a bad way. In fact, it’s in a cosy, comfortable way. The living room and kitchen are close to one another, separated by an island, and there’s a comfortable looking couch and coffee table positioned in front of a television. There are two doors off to the left, which Hope assumes are a bedroom and a bathroom respectively.

A few family photographs decorate a small table by the door, where Mara’s keys are. The first one she notices depicts Mara with two blonde-haired blue-eyed children hugging her from either side.

“My niece and nephew,” Mara explains when she sees Hope looking, “that was their seventh birthday party after our hit performance of a show Adora came up with called I like cheese. You can imagine what it was about.”

Mara offers out a glass of red wine, which Hope takes thankfully. “That’s sweet. So, um, what have you got cooking?”

“Lasagne,” Mara says, nodding over to the oven. There’s a small dining table set to the side, and cutlery and crockery is all ready for them to eat dinner. “I’ll warn you now, though, it’s not your typical lasagne. I’m a vegetarian, you see, so it’s a vegetable lasagne. If you don’t like it, I have a couple of frozen pizzas I can throw in as a last resort.”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” Hope reassures her, and admits honestly, “I’ve actually always wanted to go vegetarian myself. I don’t feel right about eating meat. How long have you stuck with it?”

“Since I was eighteen,” Mara says, “it wasn’t an option when I was living at home, but when I went off to college, I decided to give it a shot. Cut out red meat first, then poultry. I still eat fish sometimes, so I suppose I’m technically a pescatarian, but most days it’s all veggies for me. My mom completely hates it, so you’re actually sparing me a lecture right now.”

“I brought it up to Mark once, but he disagrees,” Hope says, and she doesn’t notice the way Mara’s smile seems to falter just a little, “he believes meat is part of a healthy diet, and it’s our position in the food chain. Personally, I’d like to give it a shot for ethical reasons, but, well… marriage is about compromise.”

“Seems like you’re the only one compromising,” Mara says, and then quickly changes the subject, “anyway, let’s sit down. The food should be ready in ten minutes or so.”

She turns and walks towards the couch, sinking down on one side, and Hope hesitates for a moment, her previous words ringing in her head.

Seems like you’re the only one compromising. Was that true? No… no, of course it wasn’t. After all, Mark works a lot more than he used to, since Hope didn’t take the vet job she was offered to stay home.

Stay home like he wanted, she reminds herself, you’re bored, you want to work.

No. She’s not bored. She’s happy. Happily married, of course. She loves Mark. She does.

“Are you coming, or would you rather stand there?” Mara asks jokingly, and Hope snaps out of her thoughts and nods, going to join her on the couch. “So, how’s your week been?”

The same. The same as every week. Cooking. Cleaning. Reluctantly trying for a baby.

No, not reluctantly. She wants a family. With Mark. Of course she does.

“It’s been okay,” Hope answers, “just, you know, the usual.”

“Only okay?” Mara says, “doesn’t sound like a very dazzling review.”

“It’s better now,” Hope says quietly, “I’ve been looking forward to tonight a lot. I get… I get quite bored at home.”

“You said you’re a vet?” Mara asks, and Hope nods confusedly, “I’m helping out at my friends’ farm in a couple of weeks, since it’s getting into the busiest time of the year for them. Would you like to come along? Help out with the animals? It’d really help to have someone who actually knows what she’s doing.”

She knows she should say no. Farm work is messy, incredibly messy, and not only that, but it’s a man’s job.

But she’s so bored, and so lonely, and it means more time with Mara. “Okay. Yes. I’d like that.”

“I’ll let Serenia know I’m bringing an extra pair of hands,” Mara says, “I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it, and they’ll pay you for the day. You can treat yourself to… a new dress, or something.”

“Or something,” Hope agrees quietly, “so, your friend who owns the farm… how long have you known her?”

She doesn’t know why she feels a little jealous, and she tries to suppress that feeling as Mara answers.

“She’s, uh,” Mara pauses, laughs quietly, and starts again, “an old college friend.”

Hope doesn’t know what’s so funny about that, but she has a feeling that Mara won’t tell her. “What did you study in college?”

“Business,” Mara says, “I got offered a job at a firm right out of school, and I was there for a few years, but it never felt right, and it caused a lot of stress. I quit and got the job at the bakery a little while after that, and it’s definitely a lot easier. Part of me just wants to do what Serenia did and move away to a little farm, live off the land, be with nature…”

“That sounds wonderful,” Hope says sincerely, “and really peaceful.”

“Yeah,” Mara hums in agreement, “farm work is hard, for sure, but it seems like it’d be worth it. But anyway, I can’t go running away anywhere. My family is here, and it’s important to me to stay close to them. They’re basically the only reason I haven’t left Eternia completely.”

Hope frowns, and there’s a tiny bit of panic as she questions, “do you want to leave?”

“Yes,” Mara answers without any hesitation, and the panic at the bottom of Hope’s stomach grows, “if it weren’t for my family, I’d have left Eternia years ago.”

She doesn’t want Mara to leave – not when she’s finally got a real friend in Eternia. It’s selfish, and Hope knows it, but she doesn’t care. She’s known Mara a month, and she already means so much to Hope.

The oven beeps, and Mara smiles, leaning forwards to place her wine glass on the coffee table. “Perfect timing, because I’m starving.”

Hope feels rude, like some kind of freeloader, as she watches Mara take the lasagne out of the oven and check it over before carrying it over to the dining table. She gets up, bringing Mara’s half-empty wine glass with her, and asks, “do you need help with anything at all?”

“Nope,” Mara says as she grabs a serving spoon from a drawer, places it down by the lasagne dish, and then takes the wine glasses from Hope, “this is your night to relax. You’re not helping out with any of the labour.”

The words make something in her stomach flips, and she’s left with a strange longing feeling. She can’t identify it, but assumes she just wishes that Mark would do something like this for her.

Seems like you’re the only one compromising. The words ring in her head again, but Hope shakes them away.

“Are you sure?” Hope asks, “I feel like I should do something…”

“There’s one thing you can do,” Mara says, slipping past her to pull out a chair, “sit here, enjoy yourself, and have a good time.”

She flashes that effervescent smile, and Hope feels that thing again. She can’t help but grin back as she sits down in the chair Mara offered out. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You deserve a night off as much as anybody else,” Mara says, and after a few moments, she looks away, coughs, and sits down across the dinner table, “so, uh, help yourself.”

Hope frowns, so used to waiting for Mark to take whatever he wanted first. She reaches out with the serving spoon and takes a small portion – not too big, but also not small enough to offend Mara.

Hope ends up going in for seconds after her first serving, something she never does. Her mother’s negative comments about the mere possibility of gaining weight spin around her head as she serves herself up another portion, but they disappear when Mara smiles and comments, “glad you like it.”

“You definitely have to let me return the favour,” Hope says, “you should come over one night for dinner. I have to thank you somehow.”

“You really don’t,” Mara assures her easily, “I just wanted to give you a nice night, Hope. I don’t need thanking for that, or for you to return the favour.”

Her stomach does that fluttery thing again, and Hope explains it away as excitement at having a new friend. “At least let me bake a loaf of bread for you. I can see the store-bought stuff over there on your counter, and I’m telling you, it’s dry and tasteless.”

“Okay, okay, I suppose I can let that happen,” Mara says, reaching out for the wine bottle, “more wine?”

“Okay,” Hope nods, and quickly scoops up another forkful of the lasagne, “this really is amazing, Mara. You’re quite the chef.”

Mara shrugs easily, pouring herself a glass of wine, “I believe everyone should learn how to cook to at least an acceptable level. You have to know how to take care of yourself, after all.”

It feels like a sly dig at Mark, but Hope knows that Mara isn’t backhanded like that. She opens her mouth to say something, but finds herself a little flustered when Mara gets up and leans over her, pouring some more wine into Hope’s glass.

The feeling is cut short when Hope reaches out and goes to take the glass, but not quite grasping it right because she’s so… mesmerised by the other woman. The wine spills on her dress, and she gasps in surprise, breaking eye contact.

“Oh, shit,” Mara laughs, “we really have a track record, don’t we? I’ll grab you some clean clothes you can borrow. No frosting, I promise.”

Hope watches after her, stunned, as she walks around the kitchen island, through the lounge, and disappears into what must be her bedroom. Glancing down at her best dress, she knows she should be upset that it’s probably ruined from the red wine stain down the front of it, but really, she’s just indifferent.

Mara comes back moments later and offers out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Hope looks at the clothing and thinks of what her mother would say. Jeans are for men, dear, and frankly, with your abnormal height, you are masculine enough.

Hope doesn’t take the clothes. “Oh, I… I couldn’t wear that. Don’t you have any dresses?”

Mara laughs, but quickly realises that the question is genuine. “Uh, no. I’m not really the dress type, if you couldn’t tell. Don’t worry, your mom isn’t here to get you a job as a lumberjack, and I won’t take any pictures.”

She offers out the clothes again, and Hope takes them hesitantly. She knows how genuinely horrified her mother and husband would be if they thought Hope was wearing something like this even in private, and part of that makes her want to wear them. It’s a strange rebellious spark that she’s never felt before, and she feels it even more when she remembers Mara’s words. Sounds like you’re the only one compromising.

“Bathroom is that first door there,” Mara says, “you can change in there.”

She nods, heading through to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Slowly, she gets out of her wine-stained dress and leaves it in a bundle on the floor. She’s careful when she unfolds the shirt and jeans that Mara had given her. The shirt is soft, grey, and smells like Mara’s perfume, a little fact that Hope tries to ignore as she pulls it on. She supposes it’s meant to be an oversized style fit, because it fits Hope perfectly, despite her being a few inches taller. After the shirt, she carefully pulls up the worn pair of Levi’s that Mara had given her and looks herself over in the mirror.

She’s surprised when she actually feels like she looks good, for the first time in… maybe for the first time ever.

Hope had always felt uncomfortable in the dresses she was expected to wear, but she’d accepted that. She’d always known that she never had any other choice – if her mother saw her right now, she might actually die she’d be that horrified. As nervous as Hope had been when Mara gave her the clothes, she actually feels confident as she bundles up her stained dress and steps out of the bathroom.

Mara looks up and smiles over her wine glass. “Wow, Hope. You look better in that than I do.”

Hope feels that strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach again. “Thank you. I was surprised… I like it a lot, actually.”

Mara smiles, her ruined dress from her and tossing it into the laundry. “I’ll wash this and get it back to you. You keep those. You pull them off better than I do, anyway.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Hope says as she sits back down at the dinner table. She picks up her wine glass and takes a sip – Mara must’ve refilled it while she was in the bathroom, “Mark wouldn’t like it, and I can already feel how angry my mother would be.”

Mara frowns as she sits back down at the table. She takes her wine glass, but instead of drinking from it, she says quietly over it, “why do you put their feelings over yours all the time?”

“I…” Hope defends herself quietly, “I don’t always…”

“I’m just speaking from observation,” Mara says, “and it just seems like whenever there’s something you want, you say you can’t have it because your husband wouldn’t like it, or your mother wouldn’t.”

“You don’t understand,” Hope says sharply, pausing to take a breath and have another sip from her wine glass, “you’re not married. As a wife, a good wife, there are things expected of me. Marriage is about compromise.”

Seems like you’re the only one compromising. Seems like you’re the only one compromising. Seems like you’re the only one compromising.

“Okay,” Mara says, holding her hands up in surrender, “I just don’t get how being married means you’re not allowed to wear jeans sometimes, that’s all.”

Hope opens her mouth to explain exactly why, and realises she doesn’t know. She sighs, sinking down in her chair, and murmurs, “it’s just how I was raised to behave and present myself.”

Mara frowns. “Just because you were raised a certain way, it doesn’t mean you have to conform to that as an adult. You’re your own person, Hope. If you want to dress like a lumberjack, go ahead and do it.”

Hope can’t stop herself from smiling slightly at the joke, and when she looks up to meet Mara’s gaze, it turns into a real grin. But then she thinks of her mother, and Mark, and sighs quietly. “You heard my mother. I’d rather not deal with that on a regular basis. It’s just not worth it to argue.”

Mara smiles sympathetically. “Whatever makes you happy, I guess.”

Hope knows it in her gut that she’s not happy, but she will be one day. Maybe once she and Mark have a baby. Maybe that’s what’s missing.

Not wanting to think about her own family, Hope changes the subject to Mara. “So, um… what about you? Your family, I mean.”

“My family are okay with me dressing the way I dress,” Mara says, “if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“No, I mean… tell me about them,” Hope says, “if you’d like, anyway. I know you’ve mentioned your sister, and your niece and nephew…”

Mara nods, pausing to sip from her wine glass. “Yeah. There’s a pretty big age gap between me and my sister. She’s eleven years older than me, actually. Married, with kids, the whole picture-perfect family. My brother-in-law is kind of an asshole sometimes, but he’s a good father to the twins, and I suppose that’s what counts.”

Hope raises her eyebrows. “You don’t like your brother-in-law?”

“I don’t dislike him,” Mara says, “I dislike his views and beliefs and I think Marlena could’ve done a thousand times better, but if she hadn’t married him, I wouldn’t have my niece and nephew, so… I suppose I can appreciate him for that.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re his biggest fan, though,” Hope admits, “especially if you think your sister could’ve done better.”

“She could’ve,” Mara says, “but as I said, without him, the twins wouldn’t be here, so I can deal with him. I mostly just ignore him when he starts spouting his bullshit.”

Hope blinks in surprise at the curse word, but asks, “what kind of- ah…” she hesitates, “stuff… does he say?”

Mara looks at her levelly, and after a few moments, she sighs and shrugs, “he’s just very... bigoted. I don’t care what he believes, but he’s got two impressionable kids, and I’d rather they didn’t get indoctrinated into believing it’s okay to hate people purely because of who they are.”

“Oh,” Hope says quietly, realising that Mara’s brother-in-law sounds a lot like he’d get along with Mark, “well, you sound like you’re a positive influence on the kids.”

“I don’t know, I think they see me as more of a friend than an authority figure,” Mara shrugs, “but that’s okay. They listen to their parents, and my mom when we all go over there for dinner on Sundays.”

“You sound like you love them a lot,” Hope comments, and asks, “do you want your own children? It sounds like you’re really good with them…”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Mara murmurs quietly, and then shakes her head and puts on a smile, “anyway, speaking of kids, how long have you been trying?”

“Oh, um,” Hope shrugs, “a year. Maybe more. Nothing yet. My mother thinks we should visit a doctor and find out why nothing has happened, but… I’m sure it’ll happen eventually.”

Mara hesitates, glancing down at the wine glass in Hope’s hand. “You’re not…”

“No, I took a test this morning,” Hope explains, “nothing, like I said.”

Mara frowns. “You don’t seem that disappointed.”

Because I’m not sure if I’m ready for a baby, Hope thinks to herself, because I’d rather be out working and living my own life first.

She’s happy. Of course she is. It’s probably just a grass is greener situation.

“Hey,” Mara says before she can answer, “you’re safe here. You can speak your mind. I noticed – and stop me if this is crossing a line – but you always seem like you’re wearing some kind of mask. Like you’re not really being you. And I get that you feel like you have to be, out there…” Mara nods towards the apartment’s front door, “but you don’t have to be like that around me. Fuck what other people think. I just want you to feel happy and comfortable, and most importantly, feel like you’re being yourself.”

She’s offering her a safe space, Hope realises. A place to be herself, whoever… whoever herself is. Hope already feels so relaxed around Mara, so much more than anybody else. Maybe this could help her find herself. It could help her figure out why she always feels so wrong when really, everything is perfect.

“Okay,” Hope says quietly, “it’s just hard. To be myself. I don’t really know… I’ve just always been told what to do and who to be.”

She thinks that this is the most honest she’s been with Mara – scratch that, with anybody - her whole life.

“That’s okay. You can try out whatever you want. Like… like the clothes. You like them, and feel comfortable in them, right?” Mara pauses, and Hope nods hesitantly in her confirmation. “But you don’t feel comfortable trying those things out anywhere, because you know your family would react negatively.”

Again, Hope is hesitant, like Mark will somehow know she’s agreeing to this and get mad at her later. But she nods again, murmuring, “yes.” She thinks of all the things she’s wanted to do before. Try out different clothes, maybe cut the long hair she hates a little shorter? It doesn’t seem like much to ask, the more she thinks about it.

“Well, if there’s ever anything you want to try that you think your family wouldn’t approve of,” Mara says, “call me, okay? Within, you know, the law, I’m down to try anything out, and… I don’t know, you just seem like you need someone you can let your guard down around.”

Hope feels slightly overwhelmed, in the best way possible. She places her wine glass on the table and asks quietly, “would it be okay if- if I hugged you?”

Mara smiles, getting up and holding her arms out. “Come on. According to my niece, I’m the best hugger on the planet, so…”

Finally, Hope doesn’t hesitate. She takes in a breath, ignores that strange fluttering sensation in her stomach, and pulls Mara in for a hug. Hope definitely agrees with Mara’s niece – it’s the best hug she’s ever had, and she’s not sure if it’s because Mara is strangely talented at hugs, or if it’s just because it’s Mara.

Hope finds herself not wanting to let go, but she counts to ten, mumbles, “thank you,” into Mara’s shoulder, and pulls back.

Really, she should dwell on how a single hug from Mara had made her feel so much more than anything with Mark ever had, but she doesn’t. Not when Mara smiles at her, and Hope finally feels something she should’ve felt for a long time.

That everything is perfect.

She’s a fucking idiot.

Mara knows this and has known it since her dinner with Hope on Sunday. If she’d followed her head, she would’ve kept her distance. She would’ve been polite, but firm, kept Hope at arm’s length, nipped any real feelings besides a passing attraction in the bud. But instead, Mara had to go and follow her heart. It doesn’t help that Hope looks so lonely, so desperate for a real friend. Really, how could she not extend an olive branch?

Developing a crush on a straight woman is an inherently bad idea, so she can’t imagine just how horrific developing a crush on a straight, married woman is.

Too late now, of course, but Mara is sure that she can shake this. After all, it’s not like anything could ever happen.

“Hey, are we having a girls’ day, or what?”

Mara blinks when her sister nudges her shoulder. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about something.”

Marlena smiles knowingly. “A guy?”

In a perfect world, Mara could shake her head and correct her. In a perfect world, the girl she’s interested in wouldn’t be straight and married.

“No,” Mara answers, “not a guy.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve got that look about you,” Marlena points out, “I know what it’s like when someone has a crush. I know you’re private about all of that since you’ve never liked a guy enough to bring him home but give me something.”

Adora giggles, holding onto her mom’s hand. “Ooh, Mara has a crush.”

“Aunt Mara, mija,” Marlena corrects, even though there’s no use, “but yes, she does. And she won’t tell us about him, even though gossiping is an essential part of a girls’ day out.”

“Ignore your mami, Adora,” Mara says, “I don’t have a crush on anybody.”

It’s a complete lie, and even the eight-year-old knows it. Marlena laughs and continues to tease. “We both know that’s not true. Anyway, it’s a good thing. You’re twenty-nine, most men your age are already married.”

“Ew, I don’t want to get married,” Adora says, and Mara is grateful for that distraction, “if you get married, you have to live with a smelly boy forever.”

Mara smiles quietly. She’s always seen herself in Adora, just a little bit. Namely, Mara had said the exact same thing when she was a kid, before she realised she just didn’t like men. For all she knows, it’s just a phase that kids go through sometimes, but she’s pretty certain that Adora has an innocent crush on the girl who lives next door, who she always plays with. At least, she does practically anything the girl asks, and goes off in a grumpy mood whenever the girl acknowledges Adam.

Marlena smiles and squeezes Adora’s hand. “You know, mija, there will come a day when you don’t think boys smell anymore.”

Adora frowns. “Why? Do they stop being smelly?”

“Nope,” Mara laughs quietly, “you’re just supposed to keep quiet about how smelly they are.”

“That’s stupid,” Adora says, “if someone is smelly, you should tell them. I always tell Adam when he smells.”

Mara laughs. “Then you can’t get offended if he tells you the same thing back.”

“I never smell,” Adora rolls her eyes, “I’m a girl. Girls don’t smell, we’re perfect. Ooh, mami, look, can we go in the toy store? Please?”

“Sure,” Marlena smiles fondly, “it gives me more time to grill your aunt on her crush.”

Mara rolls her eyes as they head towards the toy store. “You’re still on that?”

“I’ll keep asking until you tell me the truth,” Marlena says, letting go of Adora’s hand for her to go and look through the toys on a nearby shelf. She gravitates straight to a unicorn toy that Mara’s pretty sure she already owns. “Come on, while the man-hating blabbermouth over there is distracted.”

“Fine, maybe I like somebody,” Mara says, throwing her sister a bone for once, “but that’s all I’m going to say.”

Mostly because it’s all she can say. With the man Marlena married, and their somewhat traditional mother, she can’t imagine her sister will be all too accepting of Mara’s sexuality. She knows that she’s going to have to come out one day – hiding it for so long has been exhausting – but that day is way in the future, when she’s in a serious relationship, and… and maybe after the twins have grown up.

(She definitely wants to be there for Adora, when she starts to realise things.)

“Has he asked you out?” Marlena asks. “Is this just a crush, or are you seeing him?”

“It’s just a crush,” Mara says, hoping that this will be the end of the conversation, “we had dinner, but as friends, because that’s all we’re going to be.”

Marlena rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’re a total catch. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Don’t be so hopeless.”

“I’m not being hopeless,” Mara says firmly, “they’re married. So, no chance.”

Married and trying for a baby, Mara reminds herself, but soon remembers how Hope hadn’t seemed all too enthused about that part.

“Ouch,” Marlena winces, “now I see why you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Mara lets out a quiet sigh. That, among other things. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Marlena pauses, thinking, “there are a couple of good-looking guys from my office. Would you be open to a blind date?”

Not unless you’re going to set me up with a good-looking girl from your office. “No. I’m not trying to rush into anything. I’ll meet my person eventually, and when that happens, I want it to happen naturally. Not because someone set us up.”

Marlena looks a little concerned. “Aren’t you worried now that you’re almost thirty? I mean, for having children…”

“I’m not having children,” Mara says; whether she wants them is an entirely different thing, but she knows she can’t have kids regardless of her relationship status. Same-sex couples can’t exactly get pregnant, and they can’t adopt either. “Look, I’m fine, Marlena. I’m happy. And I know my version of happy probably doesn’t match up to yours, but that’s okay.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t,” Marlena assures her, “you know I love you, and I’ll support you no matter what you choose. You’re my little sister. I’ve got to protect you, you know. Mami would kill me if I didn’t.”

Mara smiles sadly, because part of her, deep down, knows that’s not true. “Yeah. I love you too.”

It feels like Mara is the only thing on Hope’s mind, these days.

When things are boring and slow at home, Hope always makes sure to head down to the bakery to see her friend. It’s the best part of her day, and Mara never lets her pay for drinks or cakes. When Mara complimented the bread Hope had baked for her, she’d felt that fluttery feeling again.

Hope associates it with her newfound happiness. Honestly, she’s never felt like this before. She’s smiling more, even though she’s still stuck home cooking and cleaning most of the time. She’s just so glad that she met Mara.

Everything is perfect. Everything feels perfect. Until one day.

“I’ve been watching you.”

It’s a casual comment made by Mark over the dinner table. Hope frowns into her leftovers; she’d mostly picked at her food, considering bringing up vegetarianism with her husband again at some point. Ever since she’d had dinner with Mara, and tried her amazing lasagne, she’d been pondering over it.

“What?” Hope asks, putting her knife and fork down, leaving the meat entirely. “Why?”

“You’re acting different,” Mark points out, and when Hope opens her mouth, he says harshly, “don’t deny it. I’ve known you since birth. I know what you’re like. And all of a sudden, you’re bouncing around the house, singing songs to yourself, smiling all the time.”

“I’m just happy,” Hope says quietly, “there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No,” Mark says, “do you want to know something?”

It sounds like he’s going to tell her no matter what she says. Slowly, he stands up, leaving his plate on the table for her to pick up later like he always does.

“So, I ran into Sandra the other day,” Mark says tensely, stepping towards her. Hope feels something she’s never felt around him before – fear, “she had lots of interesting things to tell me.”

“Oh,” Hope stands up quickly, taking a backstep towards the kitchen, “really?”

“I decided to make conversation, because I’m a kind man, Hope, and you’re lucky to have me. I asked her how it went when the two of you had dinner together, that night I went out for drinks with the guys,” Mark says, and Hope’s stomach drops, “imagine my surprise when she told me confusedly that you never had dinner with her.”

She takes another step back, but he’s too quick for her. Mark grabs her by the wrists harshly and pushes her back against the wall.

“I know you weren’t with Sandra,” Mark snaps, “so where the fuck were you, Hope? Screwing another man? Is that it? Do you think you’re too fucking good for me, now?”

“No, no,” Hope shakes her head quickly, wincing at the harsh grip he keeps on her wrists, “I was with a friend, a new friend, I just didn’t- I knew you’d want to meet her, and I didn’t want to overwhelm her with that.”

Mark laughs. “Oh, I definitely want to meet her now. If she even exists.”

“She does, her name is Mara,” Hope says quickly, trying to stay calm, “she works at the local bakery. Remember, I mentioned that a kind woman helped me with your birthday cake?”

She can tell that he does remember from the look on his face. Slowly, he lets go of her wrists and steps back. “Okay. Let’s go to this bakery, then. Right now.”

Hope doesn’t know why, but she really doesn’t want him to meet Mara. “I don’t- I don’t even know if she’s working…”

“I suppose we’ll have to just keep checking in every day until she is,” Mark mutters, “won’t we? Come on. Get your coat.”

Reluctantly, Hope follows him out into the hallway, tugging her coat on. Mark stalks towards the front door, opening it up and gesturing her outside.

She sighs as she sinks down in the passenger seat of the car. Besides the gut feeling that Mark and Mara just won’t get along, she doesn’t want her friendship with Mara… poisoned by him. Is it so wrong, for her to want a friend of her own for once? One that’s just hers, that doesn’t need her husband’s approval.

Mara is special to her. She doesn’t want Mark to taint that with his judgement.

There’s a thick, heavy silence in the car as they drive to the bakery, and Hope feels sick by the time they pull up outside. Through the glass windows, she can see Mara in there, saying something to a customer with that wonderful carefree smile on her face.

She doesn’t get out of the car until Mark walks around to the passenger side and opens the door. “Come on. Introduce me to this friend of yours, then.”

Hope sighs, nods, and gets out of the car, heading inside the bakery. She can feel Mark’s oppressive presence behind her, caging her in, and for once, she doesn’t mildly push it aside and forget about it. For once, she feels angry.

Mara turns from the customer she was talking to and notices her, and something in Hope’s chest settles.

“Hey, Hope,” Mara smiles her beautiful smile, “wasn’t expecting you tonight. What’ll it be? Lemon cheesecake?”

“Um, yes please,” Hope says quietly, and sighs as Mark grabs her arm and pulls her close like they weren’t just fighting at home. “This is my husband, Mark. Mark, this is my friend Mara.”

Mark looks Mara up and down, obviously judging her, and then nods once. “Hi.”

Hope has never seen Mara not friendly and smiling with new people, but her mouth forms a straight line on her mouth as she nods back and says unconvincingly, “nice to meet you.”

“So, um, cheesecake?” Hope breaks the awkward silence, smiling at Mara pleadingly. “We just had dinner, so…”

“Yeah, coming right up,” Mara says quietly, turning towards the counter.

Hope watches as she walks away, and when she tears her gaze from Mara, Mark is already watching her. “What?”

He smiles, like there aren’t bruises forming on her wrists. “Sorry for jumping to conclusions, babe.”

Hope doesn’t smile back at him. “It’s fine,” she mutters, turning to look at Mara again as she boxes up a slice of cheesecake. She doesn’t understand how Mara can make her feel so okay when her own husband makes her feel so wrong, but just looking over at Mara calms her down.

Mara comes back over and passes her the box. “You got the last slice. Great timing.”

Mark goes digging in his pocket for his wallet. “How much, sweetheart?”

Mara looks incredibly annoyed at the pet name, but when Hope sends her a pleading look again, she sighs and shakes her head. “Hope doesn’t pay here. Friend perks.”

Mark nods and puts his wallet back into his pocket. Lightly, he smacks Hope’s ass and nods back towards the doors. “Okay, come on, babe. We’ll share that in the car.”

He grips her arm tightly, heading towards the door, and Hope calls back to Mara, “I’ll see you,” as a goodbye before her husband tugs her back to the car.

She’s still gripping the cheesecake box as she sits down in the passenger seat, and Mark reaches over and takes it from her. “I’ll have that. I noticed you’d put on a couple of pounds. Probably spending all that time hanging out with your interesting new friend eating cake.”

It’s not worth it to argue, Hope tells herself. He’ll just get upset, and there’s nothing worse than dealing with him in a grouchy mood.

But part of what he’d said bothered her. “What makes her so interesting?”

Mara is definitely interesting, Hope isn’t arguing that. But she’s interesting in a wonderful way. She’s so different to anyone Hope has ever known, and it’s totally enamouring. It makes Hope want to know everything about her.

Mark had said it in a negative way, though. The same way her mother had. She knew he wouldn’t approve, and yet she’d asked for confirmation anyway.

“I mean, I don’t know if she means to walk around like some dyke, but it’s definitely the feeling she’s giving off,” Mark chuckles to himself, “maybe she’s got a little crush on you, giving you all of these free cakes. Careful you don’t catch anything from her, babe. You’ve seen the news; you know those homosexuals carry all sorts of diseases.”

Something in Hope’s stomach dips uncomfortably. She’d only really learned about that kind of thing in college, when a few girls she was friends with mentioned experimenting in the dorms. Hope hadn’t stayed in the dorms at all – Mark thought it would be better to get a place together off campus – so she’d never encountered anything herself, but she’d be lying if she said the thought of being with a woman didn’t intrigue her.

Not like that, obviously. She loves Mark. It’s probably just because she’s so bored, not working, and wants a little excitement. That’s what she thinks, when she considers experimentation, and pictures Mara’s face.

She glances back towards the bakery as Mark digs into the cheesecake, and murmurs, “Mara’s not like that. And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter to me.”

Mark almost chokes on the bite of cheesecake in his mouth. “Excuse me?”

“I said it wouldn’t matter,” Hope says, “whatever people want to do in their… private time… that’s not my business.”

Mark frowns. “Hope, it’s just wrong. Marriage and sex are for a man and a woman only. God proved that by giving all the queers AIDs.”

“That’s not true,” Hope answers, “anybody can get it. Besides, I read that homosexual women are least likely to contract HIV, according to statistics.”

“What commie newspapers are you reading?” Mark shakes his head. “Whatever. They’re wrong. You know, I don’t think you should be seeing this new friend of yours. She’s clearly been poisoning your mind with all sorts of communist nonsense.”

Usually, when Mark decides something, she goes along with it. Partially because it’s just not worth the fight, but also because it’s expected of her. But this is about Mara. Mara will always be worth the fight.

“Mara hasn’t said a thing about this,” Hope says, “I said she’s not like that. I’m not going to stop spending time with her just because you made some assumptions. She’s my best friend.”

Mark narrows his eyes at her. “Why are you talking back to me?”

“I’m defending my friend,” Hope answers firmly, not letting his cold stare shake her, “I know her. You don’t. Keep your opinion to yourself.”

Mark scoffs. “Get out of the car.”

“What?” Hope frowns, “why?”

“You’ll walk home,” Mark says, “that’ll teach you not to talk back to me. I thought you were better than this. You’ve never been so… disrespectful before.”

Hope laughs, completely stunned. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m a hundred percent serious,” Mark turns and stares ahead at the empty road, “get out. Maybe walking home will help you lose those extra pounds.”

“Fine,” Hope snaps, unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing the door open. She’ll go in and apologise to Mara for how Mark had acted. “See you at home.”

She slams the car door behind her in a small act of defiance that she’d never dared have done before, stalking back into the bakery. She must look pretty frustrated and upset, because suddenly gentle hands are touching her shoulders, and Mara is right there, a concerned look on her face.

“Hey, hey,” Mara flashes a comforting smile, “everything okay?”

Hope shakes her head, and Mara calls out to her boss that she’s taking a break, putting an arm around Hope’s shoulders and leading her through to a cramped back room. There’s a small couch in there, and Mara sits Hope down on it, reaching out and taking her hand. She squeezes it gently, and Hope glances down at their hands, stunned by how right that feels.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mara asks, and for a moment, Hope thinks she’s referencing how they’re holding hands. “Is your husband waiting outside? I can go and get him if you want.”

“No,” Hope answers quickly, because he’s not there, and she doesn’t want him to be. “Just- no.”

Like a switch had flipped, Hope starts to resent him. After everything she’s done for him, everything she’d sacrificed for him, he pulls a tantrum and forces her to walk home alone just because she had the audacity to defend her best friend.

She shuffles a little closer to Mara and collapses into her in a hug. When Mara touches her, Hope feels at ease, in a way that entirely contrasts how she jumps any time Mark reaches out for her. He’s never hurt her – not really, anyway – but it’s like she recoils from him anyway.

“Could I…” she starts, and cuts herself off, shaking her head, “doesn’t matter.”

Mara holds her tightly, and like she read Hope’s mind, asks, “would you want to stay at my place tonight? I get off in an hour. We could pick up a pizza on the way back and just relax with some TV. Take your mind off whatever happened.”

“Yes,” Hope nods into Mara’s shoulder, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Mara flashes that beautiful smile of hers, and something in Hope’s chest settles into a calm, “I’ve got to finish up my shift, but you can wait in here. If your husband comes in, what do you want me to tell him?”

“He won’t,” Hope says, and she knows it, “but on the off chance that he does… just- just tell him I want some time and space away from him.”

“Okay,” Mara gives her one last comforting squeeze before letting go. She gets up, heading towards the break room door, but pauses before she opens it, “for the record… I think your husband’s a dick.”

If it were anyone else saying that, at any other time, Hope would be offended on Mark’s behalf. But this time, she merely sighs, nods, and admits, “I know.”

Mara raises an eyebrow in surprise at her honesty, and then a teasing grin spreads across her face. “Damn, Hope, you’re brutal. I wonder what you say about me behind my back.”

Hope knows she’s joking, but she shakes her head and answers solemnly, “I would never say anything bad about you behind your back.”

“Maybe I’m entirely too gullible,” Mara says, “but I believe you. Anyway…” she pauses, turning her wrist over to check her watch, “I have fifty-five minutes until I can clock out. Will you be okay waiting here?”

“Yes,” Hope nods quickly – even if she wasn’t she thinks she’d agree, just so she wouldn’t have to miss out on a night with Mara. “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Hope,” Mara says, “just being a good friend. Anybody would’ve done the same thing. Anyway, as for entertainment goes, I’ve got a book in my cupboard there if you’d like something to read while I’m finishing up. Come and grab me if you need me.”

Hope watches after her, stunned, because she’s not at all sure if anyone else would’ve done this for her. After all, her husband is the one who’s supposed to care for her like this, and he’d just booted her out of the car for no reason other than to be an asshole.

Hope doesn’t read Mara’s book – she doesn’t feel right, going through Mara’s things to find it. Instead, she uses the time to think, and reflect. Or at least, her mind forces her to when Mara’s words from the other week come back to her.

Sounds like you’re the only one compromising. It just seems like whenever there’s something you want, you say you can’t have it because your husband wouldn’t like it, or your mother wouldn’t.

She’d given up so much – so much – for the people in her life, she’s realising. All of them, every single one, has wanted and expected something from her since the day she was born. And Mara…

Mara is the only person who doesn’t. Mara is the only person who just lets her be.

When she returns fifty minutes later, the first thing Hope does is get up and pull her in for another hug. Mara laughs in a surprised manner, but returns the hug gently, saying into her shoulder, “you know, you’re a pretty good hugger.”

“Thank you,” Hope answers as she lets her go, “have you finished?”

“Yeah,” Mara walks over the cupboard she’d gestured to, grabbing her backpack, and shouldering it, “let’s head out. I know a really nice pizza place a few blocks away from my apartment.”

Hope follows Mara out of the bakery the back way, towards a little red truck parked across the street. It looks brand new, and Mara tells her just that as they get in.

“Took me long enough to finally save for a new car,” Mara explains as she buckles her seatbelt, “my last one was practically falling apart. I’m glad I didn’t have to give you a ride in that deathtrap.”

“Thank you for this,” Hope says quietly, “if it’s too much, you can just take me home…”

“Do you want to go home?” Mara asks, and Hope blinks, stunned at the question. But then she remembers who she’s talking to. Mara, who is always so kind and considerate to her.

“No,” Hope says, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Mara rolls her eyes good-naturedly, and glances over to flash a smile in Hope’s direction. “You could never.”

Hope starts to feel a little more comfortable at the words, and she’s perfectly relaxed – a very unfamiliar feeling – by the time they reach Mara’s apartment with a pizza ready to eat.

Mara clears a few things from the coffee table and puts the pizza down, flopping down onto the couch with a strange gracefulness. She grabs the TV remote and puts something on as background noise, and when Hope sinks down next to her, Mara says, “Hey, I have a pair of sweats you can borrow after dinner if you’d feel more comfortable.”

Hope nods gratefully, and asks a question on her mind. “Actually… I was wondering if- well, if I purchased some… other clothes, would it be alright if I kept them here?”

Kept sounds significantly better than hid, even though that’s exactly what Hope will be doing. Mara smiles, nods, and says, “I’ll clear a drawer out for you.”

The learned that’s not necessary or you don’t have to do that fights to come out, but Hope stops it. She nods and smiles back at the best person she’s ever met. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Mara says, reaching forwards and grabbing a slice of pizza. She hadn’t gotten any serving plates or cutlery out, preferring to rip a slice up and eat it with her hands over her lap.

It’s against everything Hope has ever been taught, but she finds that she doesn’t really care anymore. She leans over, grabbing her own slice, and mirrors Mara.

“I’ll apologise for the likely state of my bedroom,” Mara says through a mouthful of pizza, “but I’m not exactly a neat-freak.”

Hope doesn’t mind a little mess – Mark is the neat-freak, insisting that every corner of the house be dusted to perfection. “That’s okay. And I’m fine sleeping on the couch.”

“You’re my guest,” Mara says, “you’ll take the bed. Don’t try arguing with me. You’ll find I can be very stubborn when I have to be. After all, I deal with two eight-year-olds who think I’m their best friend rather than their aunt on a regular basis. Sometimes, you have to be a little stubborn.”

“Okay,” Hope didn’t think she’d cave so easily, “alright. But I’ll find some way to return the favour one day.”

“Bake me some more of that bread of yours, and I think we’ll be square,” Mara smiles, and Hope feels a strange flutter in her stomach again, “seriously, I can’t go back to store-bought after that.”

Hope smiles, and reaches out to take another slice of pizza. As she does, her hand brushes against Mara’s lightly, and she feels that flutter again. She looks up and meets Mara’s gaze.

“It’s a deal.”

Mara pulls up outside of the big, luxurious house, in the big, luxurious neighbourhood, and feels slightly out of her depth.

(More than slightly, admittedly, but she’s good at masking that.)

Thankfully, she doesn’t need to get out of the car and face the neighbour at the house over who’s already peeking out of the window to examine her car. The front door to the house in front of her opens up, and Hope steps out, smiling brightly and greeting her with a wave. She’s wearing a t-shirt Mara hasn’t seen before, a pair of jeans, and an obviously new pair of boots. Mara ignores the butterflies in her stomach and waves back – even Hope now is so far away from the polite, controlled woman she met two months ago.

She looks excited, even as she turns away to lock her front door. Good. Hope needs something to look forward to, something to be excited about, stuck in a house with that douche that Mara met last week. He’d been even more of a douche when Mara took Hope home the next day, making subtle comments at his wife that he was mad she’d spent the night away.

Even though, when Mara finally managed to wrangle the story out of Hope, it sounded like Mr Douche was firmly in the wrong.

“Hi,” Hope greets as she gets into the passenger seat of the car, “Mark works late on Thursdays, but I should probably be back by four-thirty, just to be safe.”

Fuck Mark, Mara thinks to herself, he’s your husband, not your boss.

But what she actually says is, “okay,” as she starts to drive, and then promptly changes the subject, “you can have free reign on the radio, by the way.”

“Oh, okay,” Hope says, rather than insisting that Mara doesn’t need to offer that. Mara feels proud, but she doesn’t voice the thought. “So, how far out of town is your friend’s farm?”

“Not too far,” Mara says, “it’ll be… probably a half hour from here?”

“Okay,” Hope nods, “I’m looking forward to working with animals again. My old job – I was only there for a few months before Mark and I decided it’d be best for me to stay home, but I loved it.”

Fucking asshole, Mara thinks quietly to herself, and one of these days she’s going to end up saying it out loud. She had last week at the bakery, and Hope had agreed, but that was when she was upset. What’s to say she and her husband haven’t patched things up again?

“Well, maybe once your future kids are old enough and don’t need you as much, you can go back to work,” Mara says, “my sister works part-time, and it’s only really problematic during the summer vacation depending on if she can get time off. My mom usually takes care of them when she works, but if I’ve got the day off, I take them.”

“I’m not sure if my mother would be the best babysitter,” Hope says quietly, “I mean, she would, but I just don’t… I wouldn’t want her to treat a child the way… the way she treats me sometimes. But anyway, it doesn’t matter. I took another test this morning. Still negative. My mother has booked Mark and I an appointment with a specialist, although I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Mara quietly agrees with Hope’s mother – probably the only subject the two of them would agree on – that an appointment like that might be a good idea. Hope had told her that they’d been trying for a year. For two healthy twenty-four year olds, that’s a long time.

“Well, I hope it goes okay,” Mara says sincerely, “so, you’ve decided on what you want to listen to? I have some cassettes in there too.”

Hope opens the glove compartment and looks through the cassettes, pausing and holding one of them up with a frown on her face. “Bonnie Tyler? Really?”

Mara raises her eyebrows. “What’s wrong with Bonnie Tyler?”

“I can’t believe you just asked that question,” Hope laughs quietly, “you have heard Total Eclipse of the Heart, haven’t you?”

“What would you say if I told you it’s my favourite song?” Mara questions, even though it’s not. It’s just nice to see Hope so carefree in a way she never normally is. “And watch your mouth. That’s one of the best-selling singles of all time.”

“I’m seriously questioning your taste in music,” Hope turns the cassette over in her hands and laughs. “You don’t know how much I want to throw this out of the window.”

“Hey, you do that, you’re buying a replacement,” Mara teases her, and Hope laughs and slips the cassette back into the glove compartment, fiddling with the dials on the radio. “It’s nice to see you joking,” Mara says, “you don’t normally do that…”

Hope pauses before explaining quickly, “my mother… she believes that women aren’t supposed to be funny. We’re supposed to be quiet and laugh politely at the probably sexist jokes that men make. But I’m sick and tired of just doing what she wants me to do, and what Mark wants me to do. Because you were right. I am the only one compromising, and I think… I think that’s why I’ve never felt…”

She trails off and doesn’t finish her sentence, but strangely, Mara feels like she knows what Hope means. Not in the literal sense, but there was something about life that always felt off before Mara accepted her sexuality and grew comfortable with it. The idea of living a lie, dating men just because it was expected of her – which she tried in her teen years – made everything dreary and bleak. The moment she accepted herself for who she is, things became a little brighter.

“I get it,” Mara tells Hope, though she doesn’t plan on telling her why, “and I’m proud of you.”

They don’t talk about anything serious again on the way to Serenia’s farm. Hope goes through Mara’s cassette selection, teasing her mercilessly for each one, and Mara would be offended at the attack on her music taste, but really she’s just happy to see Hope laughing and joking without a care in the world.

When they get to the farm, Serenia is already waiting for them. Mara hops out of the truck, and goes to introduce Hope, but Serenia interrupts her with a quick, “this is the vet?”

As Mara nods, Serenia grins. “Excellent,” she takes Hope by the arm and leads her off towards the stables without so much as an introduction, “I’d like you to look over one of our horses first…”

Mara watches after them as they go, flashing Hope a reassuring smile when she looks back at her in surprise as Serenia drags her away. Juliet, Serenia’s long-term girlfriend, grabs Mara by the arm and says with a smile, “come on. Let’s get to work.”

The day is long and hard, as it always is, but Mara knows she always finishes the day with a sense of accomplishment. Still, she’s relieved when they reach lunchtime, and she excuses herself from the chicken coop to make her way over to the barn, where Hope is giving a quick check-up to the cows.

She pauses in the doorway, just watching Hope as she checks over each animal, treating them all with so much respect. She’s so gentle and careful. But she also looks happy. Actually, genuinely happy, and it’s the first time Mara has ever really seen her like that. Hope is in her element, caring for the animals, and Mara hates her husband for taking that away from her.

She feels something flutter in her chest when Hope looks up and smiles at her. It’s a real smile, full of warmth, and Mara grins back until she feels someone grab her arm and breaks eye contact with Hope to meet Serenia’s stern gaze.

“Mara,” Serenia says, “a word?”

“Everything okay?” Hope asks quickly, her previously contented expression morphed into one of concern. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Don’t worry,” Serenia says, “just something I need to talk to Mara about. You’re doing a great job, Hope.”

Hope nods, but before Mara can say anything, Serenia takes her by the arm and tugs her out of the barn. When they’re definitely out of Hope’s earshot, Mara rolls her eyes. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Mara says, “I was going to grab something to eat, so I’ll get back to that now.”

“Uh, no,” Serenia grabs her arm and looks at her pointedly, “she’s married, Mara. To a man.”

“To a douchebag,” Mara retorts, and when Serenia just looks at her sternly, she rolls her eyes again, “look, I’m not expecting anything from her. I would never, and you know that. I just- when I met her, she just needed a friend, and I’m trying to be that for her.”

“I just…” Serenia sighs, “I don’t want you to get yourself hurt.”

“I’m not going to,” Mara says, and it’s the first time she’s lied, “really. I can keep my feelings in check. She needs a friend, and even you can see that, don’t deny it.”

“Just… be careful, okay?” Serenia says, “especially because you don’t know how she’ll react if she finds out. I mean, did you even tell her about Jules and I?”

Mara winces. “Maybe not. I didn’t want to just out you guys like that. You know how people can be.”

“Yeah,” Serenia lets out a quiet sigh and then nods towards the barn, “I appreciate you bringing her, though. It’s good to have someone around who really understands the animals, and a lot of vets cost an arm and a fucking leg.”

“I think she just misses it,” Mara says, “douchebag husband wants her to be this perfect little stay-at-home wife slave. It’s pathetic.”

“But for the sake of your friend, it’s probably best to keep your ideas about that to yourself,” Serenia says, “it’s misogynistic as fuck, I’ll agree. But, you know, some women like that kind of life. If they choose that, who are we to judge?”

“I don’t think it’s a choice she made,” Mara says, “that’s my problem with it. Anyway, I’ll let her know it’s lunchtime. She could probably use a break.”

Serenia nods. “I’ll go and set the table inside. And hey, promise me you’ll be careful, alright?”

“I always am,” Mara shrugs, because she’s always had to be careful. She’s careful around her own flesh and blood – they’d met Serenia back when she and Mara were dating in college, but Mara had introduced her as her roommate.

She heads back into the barn and makes her way over to Hope, who is almost at the back, examining the last cow. She smiles and announces her presence with, “you hungry? It’s lunchtime. Juliet’s making sandwiches.”

After a few moments of final examination, Hope smiles, gives the cow a gentle pet on top of its head, and then says, “not on store-bought bread, please.”

Mara laughs. “I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through it. Come on, you need to eat. Can’t be the world’s best vet if you starve.”

“I suppose not,” Hope agrees quietly, and Mara knows that this is definitely classed as not careful, but she can’t seem to stop herself when she offers her hand out to the other woman. Hope doesn’t even hesitate before she takes it, and follows Mara out of the barn. “Today is wonderful so far. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Mara says, and she realises with a quickened heart that Hope is still holding her hand, “I’m really just trying to do less work, which happens when I bring more people.”

Hope laughs but shakes her head. “I know why you really did it, and I appreciate that a lot. I… I appreciate you a lot, Mara.”

Mara has to act like the words don’t feel like a shot straight to the heart. “I appreciate you too.”

Completely ignoring the pointed look Serenia gives their locked hands as they walk into the house, Mara leads Hope over to the dinner table, where the sandwiches are laid out. They sit down next to one another, with Serenia and Juliet taking the seats across from them.

“So, uh,” Hope starts to make conversation, and it’s surprising coming from the woman who only seemed to speak when she was spoken to before, “is it just the two of you working on the farm?”

“Yup,” Juliet smiles, “obviously, Mara helps out sometimes, but it’s usually just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Hope seems surprised, “so, neither of you are married, or…?”

Serenia gives Mara a look, one she can’t really read. And then she answers Hope’s question by reaching over to take Juliet’s hand and explaining, “we’re actually together. Marriage isn’t exactly an option right now, but maybe one day in the future if the world manages to become more accepting.”

“Oh,” Hope repeats, and this time, she really is surprised. Mara expects the worst – she tends to always expect the worst from this kind of thing – and braces herself for the inevitable homophobia. With the family Hope is from, and the husband she has, she supposes that the best possible reaction would be quietly leaving.

But then Hope, beautiful, amazing Hope, completely surprises her.

“Oh, okay,” Hope acknowledges, “how long have the two of you been together?”

Serenia smiles pleasantly. “Six years.”

“Are you normally so open about it?” Hope asks, and then cringes, “sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come off as offensive if it did. I just… I know what people can be like about that kind of thing, and as much as it confuses me why it bothers them, it still happens.”

“We’re normally quite subtle about it,” Juliet says, “it’s easy for people to believe that we’re very close friends, mostly because we were before we started dating.”

“I see,” Hope hums in thought, “well, I hope one day the world will be in a place where you won’t have to fear being open about who you love.”

Me too, Mara thinks to herself, reaching out to take a sandwich from the plate. Me too.

The rest of the day flies by – mostly because Mara accompanies Hope in caring for the animals – and by the time they’re heading off back to town for Mara to take Hope home, there’s a big grin on Hope’s face.

“You have to let me thank you for this,” Hope says as they start to drive away from the farm, “today has been wonderful, and your friends – they’re lovely.”

Mara feels bad that she half expected her to say something homophobic behind their backs. Again, it’s basically ingrained in her to expect the worst. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”

“There’s a dinner party,” Hope says quickly, “it’s- it’s sort of a monthly thing, where Mark and I meet up with a few other couples and have – well, have dinner. It’s our turn to host. Would you like to come along?”

It sounds like something she’d never want to do in a million years, spend time with Hope’s husband and snooty friends. Hope seems to realise this too.

“I get that it’s really more…” Hope laughs quietly, “it’s basically me asking because I think you’re the only person that’ll keep me sane through the whole thing. But… but it’s a free meal, and there’ll be wine…”

Mara pushes out a quiet sigh and nods. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll be there.”

It’s worth the upcoming night of horror just to see the smile on Hope’s face.

When the doorbell rings, that’s Hope’s cue to get up and greet the next guest. A couple from Mark’s work are already there, sipping politely on their first glasses of wine and making conversation.

She feels herself relax naturally when she opens the door to Mara, but then she sees what she’s wearing, and is suddenly very unrelaxed indeed.

Completely unexpectedly, Mara is wearing a simple black dress. It’s nothing extravagant, in the grand scheme of things, but for some reason it makes Hope’s knees weak in a way she can’t explain. Her mouth moves, trying to form words, and Mara just smiles politely.

“I know, it’s not really me,” Mara explains the dress, “but I had a feeling it might cause unnecessary drama if I showed up in a shirt and some nicer pants, so…”

“You look amazing,” Hope finally manages, “really. You… wow.”

“Now I know you’re flattering me,” Mara laughs as Hope steps aside to let her into the house, “so, what’s on the menu, Chef Hope?”

“Well, we have some red wine just through here,” Hope says, leading Mara towards the lounge where Mark and his colleagues are, “you did tell me you eat fish, right?”

“I do,” Mara nods, “sometimes, anyway.”

“Thank god,” Hope lets out a sigh of relief, “I couldn’t go full vegetarian, but I swore you said you liked fish, so I’ve baked a side of salmon.”

Mara winces. “Would this be a bad time to tell you I hate salmon?”

Hope’s stomach drops, but then she sees the flicker of a smirk on Mara’s face, and she lets out a relieved laugh, reaching out to lightly tap Mara’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to me. I was so worried.”

“I had to,” Mara laughs, “it was too easy.”

“I’ll get you back,” Hope assures her, even though she has no idea how she’s going to do that. She’s already brainstorming, but then they round the corner and she meets Mark’s gaze, and the easy smile fades away to the more formal, practiced one. “Um,” she pauses, clearing her throats, and addresses Geoff and Sandra from Mark’s office, “this is my best friend, Mara. She’s joining us for dinner this evening,” the doorbell rings again, and Hope knows she has to go and answer it, “Mark, would you mind getting Mara a glass of wine while I go and get the door?”

She doesn’t wait for him to deny her – and he won’t, not in semi-public – and she smiles once more at Mara before heading to answer the door to the next guests.

She’s thankful once everyone has arrived and dinner is served, so she can sit down next to Mara at the dinner table. She tells herself she’s just keeping a buffer between Mara and Mark, but really it’s because she wants to be close to her friend. Mara has been chatting politely with everyone, and Hope is relieved to see that she seems to have made a good impression. On everyone besides Mark, who looks at her with squinted, judgemental eyes.

His attention is entirely too focused on Mara when Sandra asks her, “so, are you married?”

Hope wonders what reply he’s waiting for. She knows what he thinks about Mara – she’d failed to mention the day she’d spent helping Mara’s friends on their farm, but she knows what his opinions would be about the type of people she’d been spending time with.

“Nope,” Mara answers easily, and the answer doesn’t seem like it satisfies Mark, “I’m too busy working to date. I want to travel, and it costs, so basically all of my free time goes to picking up extra shifts.”

Mara had mentioned her desire to travel to Hope once, very briefly. Hope doesn’t want her to do it, not if it means she’ll be away from her for a long time. She knows it’s selfish – it’s extremely selfish – but lately it feels like Mara is the only thing helping her keep her head above water. Life would be so much easier if she could spend it with Mara.

“I’m just going to go take a breather,” Hope excuses herself to nobody in particular as Sandra starts asking Mara all about the places she’d like to travel to.

She lets out a breath as she heads through to the kitchen and lets herself out through the back door. She sighs, pulling out one of the cold chairs on the table set up outside, trying to get whatever weird feelings she has out of her head. It’s like… the strange feeling that something is missing had faded slightly. Not a lot, but a little bit.

The truth is, she only ever feels right when she’s with Mara. She’d realised that the day they spent together on the farm. Caring for animals is Hope’s passion, and Mara had given that back to her. Mara lets her keep the clothes Hope really feels comfortable in in a drawer in her apartment. Mara doesn’t try to push her or pressure her into anything. Mara doesn’t make backhanded comments about her appearance.

Mara… she’s shown Hope how to be happy.

“Hey.”

Her voice, and for a second, Hope thinks she imagines it. Until the chair next to hers gets pulled out against the concrete patio, and Mara’s beautiful grey eyes meet hers, a smile shining in them.

“Everything okay?” Mara asks, “I wanted to come after you straight away, but damn can that Sandra woman talk.”

Hope laughs quietly. “Yeah, she’s… she’d probably win an Olympic gold medal for talking.”

“Oh, no,” Mara shakes her head, “she’d get the silver. My niece would get the gold. Anyway, you never answered my question.”

“I’m okay,” Hope says, and then something inside makes her blurt out, “do you really not date?”

Mara looks surprised, but Hope holds back the automatic apology on the tip of her tongue. Eventually, Mara answers the question with a wordless shrug, and looks out into the twilit garden.

“Nice flowers,” she comments, “what kind are they?”

“Hyacinths,” Hope says, and then, “why’d you change the subject?”

She doesn’t know why she’s so interested. It’s like there’s some kind of bug inside of her, pushing her to find out. She doesn’t think she’ll like the answer if Mara suddenly tells her she’s seeing someone, and she doesn’t know why.

Less time you get to spend with her, she reasons, and runs with it.

Mara lets out a breath, shrugging again. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You never seem talk about… about dating, and relationships, and clearly any time I ask you avoid the question,” Hope says, “I don’t really understand why.”

Mara sighs, looking back out into the garden. Hope half expects another question about flowers. “If I answered that question, you definitely wouldn’t consider me your best friend anymore.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hope replies, “honestly, you’re the only person here tonight that I actually consider to be a real friend. Even if you, say, had a husband and murdered him, I can look past that.”

It’s a try at a joke, and Mara laughs quietly, Hope’s efforts paying off. “Look at you, making jokes. That’s a far cry from the woman who thought only men could be funny.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Hope rolls her eyes fondly, a new mannerism picked up from Mara that she wouldn’t dare do surrounded by the guests inside, “come on. I promise, whatever it is, it won’t change things. You’re my best friend. Honestly, my only friend.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Mara mutters to herself, “I’m not married, nor have I ever been, or will ever be married, because I can’t, legally. I don’t date, because we’re in a small town in the middle of nowhere, where any possible dating options have moved the fuck out of if they’re smart, and the only reason I still put myself through living here rather than moving off to the city where things suck but are slightly more accepting is to stay close to my family, and to see my niece and nephew grow up.”

Hope frowns because she doesn’t see how any of that is an answer. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Mara sighs frustratedly, “I’m gay, Hope.”

“Oh,” Hope blinks in surprise, and she’s astounded that despite the offensive manner he’d guessed it in, Mark was actually right about something.

“Anyway, I’ll see myself out now,” Mara says, already halfway stood up, “goodnight, Hope. Thanks for the dinner. I’ll see you around, maybe.”

Hope realises that Mara must’ve taken her surprise the wrong way, and still at a loss for words, she reaches out and grabs Mara’s hand before she can leave. “Don’t go.”

Mara frowns down at their hands. “You don’t want me to go?”

“No,” Hope says, shaking her head, “I told you. You’re my best friend. As someone who has had her mother drilling manners into the back of her skull since birth, I can tell you it would be extremely rude for my best friend to ditch before she tries my dessert.”

Hope still hasn’t let go of her hand, scared that if she does, Mara will run. But when she looks up and meets her friend’s gaze again, there’s a small smile toying at the corner of Mara’s mouth.

“What kind of dessert are we talking here?”

“Cheesecake,” Hope says, “homemade.”

“Okay, you’ve interested me,” Mara says, and she finally sits back down. After a few moments of silence, Mara lets go of Hope’s hand and says, “thank you. For… well, you know.”

Hope shrugs. “Don’t thank me for not being… well, an asshole.”

Mara laughs. “Is that the first time you’ve ever sworn?”

Admittedly, yes, but Hope isn’t about to tell her that. “Of course not.”

“It totally is,” Mara says, “what would your mother say about your potty mouth?”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d completely disown me,” Hope replies, but it doesn’t even feel like a joke. A strange melancholy hits her then, and she sighs, admitting quietly, “sometimes I feel like that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Don’t say that,” Mara says, and then adds, “seriously, take it from someone who probably will get disowned by her entire family when she comes out. I know your mom is… a character… but at least she’s doing those things out of love, you know? She thinks she knows what’s best, like every mom.”

Hope doesn’t comment on that besides, “do you really think your family will disown you? I mean, you seem so close with them…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mara shrugs, “it happens. Besides, I told you about my brother-in-law, didn’t I? My mom is religious and pretty traditional, my sister is married to a homophobic asshole, and the twins are eight and don’t have a choice.”

Hope hums, but she rebukes Mara’s argument with a quiet, “well, I’m also married to a homophobic asshole.”

“At least you know he’s an asshole,” Mara mutters quietly, and it’s so quiet that Hope is sure she’s not meant to hear it. “You’re different.”

Hope doesn’t get to hear how she’s different, and she finds herself resenting Mark even more for that when he peers around the door and says irritably, “dessert, Hope.”

She opens her mouth to say something – she has no idea what she’s going to say, but she’s not sure if it’ll be pleasant – but Mara smiles at her, and she feels that warmth again. “Come on. Can’t keep your guests waiting.”

Mara gets up and heads inside the house and Hope sighs, following. She wishes tonight was just Mara. Just the two of them, a homecooked meal, and a bottle of wine to share.

She wishes it even more when Mark grabs her by the arm and mutters, “I don’t like that Mara woman. Ask her to leave.”

A few months ago, maybe Hope would’ve listened. But now, she wrenches her arm from Mark’s grip and mutters firmly, “she leaves, I leave,” before moving around him to take the cheesecake out of the fridge and walk it through to the guests at the dining table.

She knows he’s mad at her, but it’s so worth it for Mara.

Mark goes to bed in a sulk as the guests make their way out after dessert. Thankfully, Mara is the last to leave, and Hope can relax while they’re alone. She pulls Mara in for a tight hug, and after a few surprised seconds, Mara hugs her back.

“Thank you for coming,” Hope murmurs into her shoulder, “I really appreciated you being here. I know it’s not really your scene...”

“Fancy dinner parties aren’t my scene?” Mara laughs. “What’re you trying to say?”

Hope rolls her eyes fondly, knowing that Mara is just joking. “You know what I meant. I just… I know you don’t really like Mark…”

“What?” Mara tries to sound alarmed, but it doesn’t come off, “I don’t know what you mean. He’s…” the façade drops, and she sighs, “okay, you got me. But in my defence, I don’t think he likes me either.”

“Oh, he really doesn’t,” Hope tells her honestly, “but that’s okay. Because I do, and his opinions are mattering to me less and less nowadays.”

Mara smiles, and she actually looks a little proud. It makes Hope feel proud of herself too.

“I should get going,” Mara says, nodding over to her little red truck, “got some Bonnie Tyler to listen to on my way home.”

“I’ll never get over your terrible music taste,” Hope teases her, and Mara laughs, “but have fun. Drive safe, okay?”

“I always do,” Mara replies with an easy shrug. She turns to walk towards her car and pauses halfway down the driveway. “Thank you for earlier, by the way. I know I already said it, but still. Thanks for not being weird.”

“Don’t thank me,” Hope says, and the blurts out the question on her mind, “but since we’re on the subject that you’ve always avoided… do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope,” Mara says, smiling a little sadly. She turns her car keys over in her hand thoughtfully, and then shrugs. “Told you there’s nothing to talk about. I’ll see you later, Hope.”

Hope watches until she gets in her car and drives away to head up to bed. Mark is already asleep, snoring loudly, and she sighs and changes into her pyjamas, clambering in next to him. She finds herself feeling thoughtful and restless as she tries to sleep.

She turns over in bed, looking over at her husband’s silhouette on the other side of the bed. He’s lying on his back, mouth open, most of the sheets tucked up around him. Stupidly, she wonders what it would be like if it were Mara on the other side of the bed. She doesn’t know why the thought comes to her, but when it does, it makes her heart tug longingly.

She just knows she’s not supposed to feel like this for her best and only friend.

“Can I have a cookie?”

“Adora, you’ve had four cookies already.”

“So I should round it up to five. I learned that in school. You round numbers up to make a whole one, and four is closer to five than it is to zero.”

“Yeah, but then you’ll just use the same logic to ask for another five cookies to round it up to ten, and your mami will actually kill me if you eat that many,” Mara laughs, jumping forward and grabbing her, picking her up before she can dart to the kitchen and rifle around for more cookies. “Got you, cookie monster.”

“Mami doesn’t need to know how many cookies you gave me,” Adora reasons, “I won’t tell.”

“You’re a blabbermouth,” Mara says easily, “I don’t trust you,” she puts Adora down and nods over to the couch, “go on, watch the movie with your brother.”

“You’re supposed to have snacks at the movies,” Adora reasons, but upon a rare stern look from Mara, she pouts and runs back over to the couch, flopping down next to Adam.

Mara watches with a small smile as Adora snuggles up to her brother, and then glances worriedly over at the phone. It’s been a long day – she would know, after taking care of two eight-year-olds for the duration of it – but it’s also been a long wait for a phone call.

Hope had mentioned that it was her appointment at the fertility clinic today. Naturally, she’d be with her douchebag husband, but Mara doubted he’d be much comfort on the off chance there’d be bad news. She told Hope to call if she needed anything.

She was certain that Hope would call even if she didn’t need anything, but so far there’d been radio silence. Mara supposes that everything went well – after all, it’s six o’clock, well past Hope’s appointment time at 2pm this afternoon – and she’s sure it’s for the best that Hope hasn’t called. After all, Mara hadn’t expected to look after the twins today, but Randor was called into work unexpectedly, and Wednesdays are her mom’s bingo days, so Mara offered to take them on short notice.

“Mara?”

Mara tears her gaze away from the phone and answers Adora. “Yeah?”

“Can I have a cookie?”

“Do you think my brain just deleted the last conversation we had?” Mara raises her eyebrows, and Adora giggles conspiratorially. “Watch the movie, dummy. It’s Back to the Future. This movie is going to be a classic one day.”

“I’m telling mami you called me a dummy,” Adora says, sticking her tongue out childishly, “she’ll ground you.”

“Your mami can’t ground me, I’m a grown-up,” Mara says, sitting down on the couch next to Adora. Immediately, Adora rolls over and snuggles up, and Mara smiles, putting an arm around her.

“Mara,” Adam says, and Mara looks over Adora’s head to wait for his question, “can I have a cookie?”

Mara laughs. “Since you’ve also had four already, I’m going to have to say no.”

He pouts and rolls his eyes. “You’re not my favourite aunt anymore.”

Mara shrugs. “Well, considering I’m your only aunt, I don’t think it’ll take me too long to get the top spot again.”

“You’re still my favourite,” Adora says, batting her eyelashes in an attempt to look cute, “can I have a cookie for keeping you as my favourite?”

“No, you can’t,” Mara replies, “but you can have some real food in a minute, since you’re obviously so hungry. I ordered pizza.”

“Okay, you’re my favourite again,” Adam announces, “did you get pepperoni?”

“I got a pepperoni pizza, and a plain cheese,” Mara says, “more than enough for the three of us, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know,” Adora says, “dad says I eat like a horse. I like horses. You can ride horses, can’t you, Mara?”

“I can,” Mara says, “maybe one day I’ll take you riding with me, if you want. When you’re a little older, and if you can get your mom to say yes.”

Adora nods enthusiastically, but before Mara can promise to talk to Marlena about it, there’s a knock on the front door. She smiles and nudges Adora off her. “That’ll be the pizza.”

Adora follows her to the front door, and Mara grabs the cash to pay, but when she opens the door, it’s not the pizza delivery. Hope is stood there, looking incredibly drunk, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in her hand. She blinks at Mara, and then notices Adora peering out from behind her, and mumbles quietly, “I’ll come back.”

“No,” Mara reaches out and takes her by the arm gently. She’s definitely not in any shape to be walking off alone. “Come in. It’s okay.”

“You have company,” Hope slurs, nodding down at Adora, “it’s fine.”

“You’re tall,” Adora observes, stepping out from behind Mara. Hope lets out some kind of offended noise, but then Adora keeps talking, and her gaze softens, “one day, I want to be tall like you. Then I can reach things off high shelves. Like, this one time, there was this big unicorn toy I really wanted at the store, but I couldn’t reach it, and neither could my mami.”

Hope hiccups, and then looks up at Mara blurrily. “Sweet kid.”

“My niece,” Mara explains, holding out her hand for Hope, “come on. You need to lie down.”

Hope nods tiredly, letting Mara lead her into the apartment. Adora frowns at her, and then looks up at Mara. “Is she okay?”

“She just doesn’t feel too good right now,” Mara explains, “go watch the movie with your brother while I get my friend here settled down, okay?”

Adora nods and rushes off to the couch, and Mara leads Hope through to her bedroom. Not in the way she might’ve imagined in her wildest fantasies either. She half-carries Hope over to her bed, pulling back her sheets and slowly helping the woman down onto the mattress.

Hope yawns, and doesn’t let go of Mara’s hand as she goes to get a glass of water and a bowl just in case Hope feels sick. “I’m sorry. I should’ve- should’ve called somehow. Didn’t think.”

“It’s okay,” Mara assures her, and guesses, “I’m assuming things today weren’t…”

“It’s me,” Hope mumbles, “Mark’s fine. It’s me. I can’t- I can’t… you know. Get pregnant. It’s my fault. And I’m- god, does it make me a horrible person if I’m a little relieved? That I don’t have to- that I don’t have to have a child with him…”

Mara has a feeling that Hope wouldn’t have admitted that if she wasn’t half a bottle of whiskey deep right now. “You could never be a horrible person, Hope.”

Hope smiles up at her drunkenly. “I’m so glad I met you. You’re my best friend. You’re so pretty, and smart, and kind, and you- you know what’s going on about everything and- and I just wish I could stay here with you forever.”

Mara bites down on her bottom lip and tries to ignore what she just said. She doesn’t mean it. She’s drunk.

“Okay,” is all she says in reply, pulling the sheets up around Hope, “get some rest.”

“Stay?” Hope asks quietly, “please?”

Any other time, and Mara wouldn’t even hesitate. But… “the twins,” Mara nods towards the bedroom door, “but I’ll be right out there with them. If you feel up to it, you could come and grab a slice of pizza.”

Hope looks like she wants to hurl at the thought. She tugs the sheets up to her chin and shakes her head. “Sleep.”

“Okay,” Mara says, “I’ll be just in the lounge if you need anything.”

By the time Mara heads out of her bedroom to grab a glass of water and a bowl for Hope, Adora and Adam are munching on the packet of cookies from the cupboard. Adora smiles sheepishly when Mara notices them, and she sighs in resignation.

“I won’t tell your mother if you won’t.”

Hope wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

For a moment, her stomach drops in worry. She barely remembers anything after… after the clinic, and Mark’s angry shouting in the car, blaming her for something she can’t help as always. She left the car, upset and angry herself that her husband wouldn’t even comfort her when she just found out something pretty heartbreaking, and made her way to the nearest bar.

After that, nothing. But as she sits up, dizzy, the rest of the room comes into focus, and she recognises it. Because she’s slept here before once, on another night when Mark was being an asshole. It’s Mara’s bedroom. She glances to the left of Mara’s queen-sized bed, but it’s empty. Hope assumes she’s on the couch.

That’s as far as she gets before she realises just how sick she feels, and she stumbles up, out to the bathroom, to vomit. She barely registers warm, gentle hands pulling her hair back, and rubbing comforting circles into her back.

“It’s okay,” Mara says tiredly, and Hope realises she must’ve woken her up, “I’ve got you.”

Hope has never been a particularly heavy drinker, but the few times she had let a little loose in college and drank more than she should, Mark had never once gotten up to hold her hair back.

Hope slumps back into Mara when she’s finished, and Mara flashes a comforting smile. She feels guilty for just showing up like this – she can’t imagine what kind of state she must’ve been in – for kicking Mara out of her own bed, and waking her up at god-knows what time.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles in apology, “really sorry.”

Mara just shakes her head and offers out a fresh toothbrush from a package she pulls out from under the sink. “No worries. Here. I know how gross your mouth probably feels right now.”

Hope takes the toothbrush thankfully and is even more thankful as Mara helps her up and over to the sink. She brushes her teeth quietly, and as she spits, she asks, “what time is it?”

Mara turns her wrist over, realises she isn’t wearing her watch, and shrugs. “No idea. Night time. I’ll check the specifics when I’m getting you back to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” Hope says again, “I shouldn’t have just… just shown up here. I don’t even remember coming, honestly.”

“It’s okay,” Mara says sincerely, “I’m just glad you’re safe. And hey, if it means anything, my niece likes you.”

Hope blinks in surprise. “I met your niece?”

“Sort of,” Mara says, “I was looking after the twins when you got here. Adora likes that you’re tall because it means you can reach unicorn toys on high shelves, apparently. And they both loved you distracting me for long enough to grab the cookies out of the cupboard.”

Hope winces, “sorry.”

“Stop apologising, okay?” Mara says, and tentatively adds, “you’ve clearly had a rough day. Come on. Back to bed for you. Doctor’s orders. I mean, you’re more of a doctor than I’ll ever be, but since I’m not the one puking and it’s my apartment, I think that gives me authority.”

“Please don’t mention puke,” Hope mumbles, shuddering slightly as Mara leads her out of the bathroom, “I can take the couch,” she tries pathetically, but Mara shakes her head.

“Nope,” Mara says, leading her back into the bedroom, “come on. Lie down.”

Hope is too dizzy and too tired to argue. She sinks back down into Mara’s bed with a sigh, and mumbles into the pillow, “I don’t know if I told you when I was… completely drunk, but the appointment today… it didn’t- we found out what the problem was. Well, kind of. They don’t exactly know how, but it’s- it’s me.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Mara assures her quietly, but Hope shakes her head, “I know it’s… inevitably a painful subject.”

“They don’t know how, but according to them, it’s almost impossible that I’ll ever get pregnant,” Hope says quietly, “so, that’s that, I suppose.”

Mara hesitates, but after a few moments, she reaches over and gently brushes her fingers through Hope’s hair. “I’m really sorry for the way things worked out, Hope. I know you’d been trying for a while.”

“I don’t…” Hope pauses, sighs, and admits, “I’m not even sure if I wanted a baby, anyway. Not… not right now, at least.” Not with him.

She doesn’t know what makes her tell Mara. After all, that’s a secret Hope had been trying to keep; her uncertainty with everything. She hadn’t even felt certain the night before her wedding.

“Either way,” Mara says, “it’s a hard thing to hear. I get why you went a little off the rails.”

Hope hums into Mara’s pillow and sighs quietly. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Mara pulls her hand back, and Hope finds herself missing the way her fingers felt running through her hair, “try to rest up, okay? I know you probably don’t feel the greatest right now, but… sleep will help.”

She goes as if to walk away, and everything in Hope’s body tells her to stop that from happening. “Mara.”

Mara pauses by the door. “Yeah?”

“Will you stay in here with me?” Hope asks, and her stomach makes a strange jump at the thought. “For one thing, I feel bad kicking you out of your bed, but mostly I just… I just don’t want to be on my own.”

Mara hesitates by the door, frowning to herself. After a few moments, she questions, “are you sure you’re comfortable sharing a bed with me?”

Hope can’t understand why she wouldn’t be. “I’m sure. I really don’t want to be on my own, and I always feel safe with you.”

Mara pushes out a shaky breath and takes a few seconds to think. Finally, she nods, and walks around to the other side of the bed, clambering in. “Wake me up if you need anything.”

She turns over, and Hope is left facing her back as Mara closes her eyes and tries to sleep. Hope rolls over, just looking at her for a moment, thinking. Her heart does a leap in her chest as she watches Mara relax and fall into a gentle slumber, and all Hope can think about is how perfect she is.

She’s so kind. So considerate. So smart. So carefree and non-judgemental. She’s everything Mark isn’t. She’s everything Mark should be.

She’s everything Mark should be. Oh.

The realisation comes coupled with a strange feeling. It’s not a bad one. Actually, Hope feels like she suddenly understands a whole lot of stuff she never had. Mainly, why she’s always felt so unfulfilled, so empty, like something isn’t quite right.

It’s a realisation that should terrify her, but as she lies there, watching Mara’s silhouette as she sleeps, she just feels… relieved. Or at least like she finally understands.

The reason she cares so much for Mara, the reason she felt so jealous when thinking about Mara with a girlfriend, the reason she was the first person Hope thought to come to in her time of need… it’s because she has feelings for her.

Romantic feelings.

Well, Hope thinks to herself as she turns over to stare up at the ceiling, that’s different.

“Mara,” Hope starts, peering into the oven casually to check on the bread she’d just taught Mara how to bake, “can I ask you a question?”

“You know you can just ask, right?” Mara raises her eyebrows, knowing that it’s always something big when someone prefaces a question with that. “But of course. Go ahead.”

“It might seem strange that I’m asking,” Hope starts, still not asking the question, “but… I have a feeling that you don’t get to talk about it much.”

Mara waits for a moment, but she still doesn’t ask. “Okay. What’s the question, then?”

“How…” Hope starts, pauses, and checks the bread again, “how did you know you were a lesbian?”

Admittedly, she’s a little floored by the question. Not just the subject matter, but why Hope is asking.

“Uh,” she starts, “I always knew. Kinda thought something was wrong with me for a while when I was a kid, but then I learned about different sexualities later on and realised it was just that.”

“Oh,” Hope frowns, like that wasn’t the answer she wanted, “is it possible… for people not to know? To… to believe completely that they’re straight, even if they’re not? Like, have you heard of that happening to other gay people?”

Another interesting question, and Mara wants to know why she’s asking, but she’d never push something like that. And she’s not entirely used to talking about this stuff herself.

“Serenia was like that,” Mara says, “she grew up in a religious household where it was pretty much drilled into her from birth that she needed to get married, have the whole nuclear family thing. She ran away when she was eighteen and realised she liked women in college.”

“I see,” Hope acknowledges, checking the bread a third time, even though it’s fine and she knows it. “What do you like about women?”

“Well, the fact that they’re not men.”

Hope laughs quietly, rolling her eyes. “Okay, I didn’t need sarcasm.”

“Honestly, Hope, I don’t know,” Mara answers seriously, “think of it like… okay. Imagine you eat a cookie, and you love it. And then you go and try a cake, and you can’t stand the taste of it, but you can’t explain why, you just don’t like it. It’s like that. Some people like cake, some people like cookies, others like both, and some people don’t like anything at all. It’s a spectrum, and generally, it’s how people are wired.”

“Okay,” Hope hums, “thank you for educating me.”

“No worries,” Mara says, “I’m always down to explain things. Education is the only way to acceptance.”

Hope chuckles quietly to herself. “I suppose you could say you’re a gay guru.”

Mara laughs. “Okay, definitely not putting that on my resume.”

“Okay,” Hope hums, “how about lesbian expert?”

“I think that’s worse,” Mara says, “at least the first had alliteration.”

Hope looks up and smiles, and Mara feels butterflies in her stomach. She tries as hard as she can to squash them, but she also can’t bring herself to look away from Hope, and how happy she looks. Mara feels just as happy herself.

Hope is the one to break eye contact. She looks at herself in the reflection of the oven door and admits quietly, “I think I want to cut my hair.”

Mara laughs. “Thanks for that riveting update.”

Hope meets her gaze again with a fond eye roll, and finally stands up straight. “No, I mean… I want to cut it all off. Short. I always tie it back anyway, and it just gets in the way. I guess I’ll have to think on it, see if I really want to or if it’s just an impulse.”

Mara feels a flash of pride, that Hope’s not basing her decision on whether or not her mother or her douchebag husband would want her to cut her hair or not. “Let me know what you decide. I definitely want to be there to see how good you’ll look.”

It’s a little too much like flirting, and Mara realises that far too late. She expects Hope to tell her to back off, but instead, she just smiles fondly. “Oh, you flatter me too much.”

There’s a pink blush on her cheeks, and if Mara was completely delusional, she’d take it as a good sign and keep flirting.

But she’s living in the real world, so instead, she changes the subject and puts her silly little optimisms to the back of her mind.

“Hope,” Sandra says quietly, pulling her in for a hug. There’s a sympathetic pout on her face, and it almost looks like somebody died. “I’m so sorry. Mark mentioned your… recent news.”

“Oh,” Hope realises, and as uneasy as the whole situation makes her feel purely because she doesn’t know how to feel about it, she puts on a gracious smile, “it’s alright. Can’t be helped.”

“There’s always surrogacy, or adoption,” Sandra says optimistically, “lots of options. You never know, you could always keep trying and get lucky. After all, it took Geoff and I almost two years to conceive.”

Speaking of your husband, Hope thinks, because the main thing on her mind right now is that realisation she’d had about Mara, and what it means for her. “You two are a lovely couple. I’m sure it didn’t take you long at all to fall for one another.”

“Quite the contrary,” Sandra smiles, “he kind of snuck up on me. We were friends for a while, and I’d never seen him that way, and then one day it was just like… oh. It’s you. Of course, it’s always been you.”

It’s very explanatory, when the first thing Hope pictures is Mara’s face, not Mark’s.

“So…” Hope says, “you believe he’s the one?”

“Oh, yes,” Sandra says confidently, without any hesitation, “he’s my soulmate. That’s why we get married, right? We find our soulmates, and we want to stay with them forever. Til death do us part.”

Hope chews on the inside of her cheek, glancing over at Mark. He’s watching the game on the TV with Geoff, and as she looks at him, she feels nothing. No spark. No warmth. She doesn’t smile the moment she sees him, and she thinks she understands now.

She’s always felt so wrong with Mark because he’s wrong for her. She loves him, yes, but it’s doesn’t feel the way everyone always describes love. It’s a love you’d hold for an old friend, or a family member, but not a lover. He’s familiar, and expected of her, but not what she wants. He’s not her person, her soulmate, her anything.

She loves him. But she’s not in love with him, and she’s not sure if she’s ever been able to be.

And then there’s Mara. Mara, who makes her feel so much. Mara, who’s so kind to her, who’s always been so patient, who’s the best person she’s ever met. She thinks back to what Sandra said. He kind of snuck up on me. We were friends for a while, and I’d never seen him that way, and then one day it was just like… oh. It’s you. Of course, it’s always been you.

It’s always been Mara. Of course it has.

She’s still not scared. She knows she should be – everything she thought she knew about herself, about her life, has been thrown completely upside down. But really, everything makes sense now.

She doesn’t feel that way about Mark, and that’s why everything has always felt so wrong with him. Because she can’t like him like that. She’s not interested in men, and the more she thinks about it, the more glaringly obvious it becomes. Like Mara’s friend Serenia, Hope hadn’t considered women an option because of the way she was raised. But now, she’s all too aware of how she feels.

And she’s married. Not to the person she should be married to.

That’s a slight predicament. And Hope has no idea where to start with it. Does she tell Mara the truth about how she feels? Or at least, talk to her about her sudden realisation? Does she approach Mark first and ask for a divorce?

Definitely not, she thinks to herself, he’d want a good reason why, because he doesn’t believe in divorce. And telling him that I’m fairly certain I’m a lesbian and in love with my best friend wouldn’t go well at all.

She doesn’t know what to do. But she knows she has to figure it out soon.

When there’s a knock on the apartment door, Mara knows who it’ll be.

After all, Hope had recently taken to arriving spontaneously, rather than calling multiple times to check and confirm. Mara flashes Marlena a smile and says, “hold on, let me get that.”

She pulls open the door and feels a familiar warmth when she sees Hope. “Hey. You want to come in for coffee? I just brewed a pot, actually.”

Mara nods behind her, letting Hope know that her sister is here too. Hope’s eyes widen, and she blurts out, “oh, I’m sorry for intruding,” like it’s a natural response.

Mara reaches out a hand and Hope instantly takes it. “You could never intrude. Come on in. Hope, this is my older sister, Marlena. Lena, this is my friend Hope.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise you had plans today,” Marlena says, and explains to Hope, “I was on my lunch break from work and decided to come round for a drink and a sandwich.”

“It’s okay,” Hope says, “I’m the one dropping in unannounced.”

“Speaking of the sandwich, Hope’s the one who taught me how to make that bread,” Mara says as she lets go of Hope’s hand to go and make her a cup of coffee, “it’s her recipe.”

“You’ll have to share,” Marlena says, “it was amazing. And to think, I almost gave you all the credit,” Marlena flashes a teasing smile, and Mara rolls her eyes.

“Mara has a copy of the recipe,” Hope says as she sits down on the couch, “I’m sure by now she’s memorised it and can pass it on to you.”

Mara laughs. “You greatly overestimate me.”

She busies herself with the coffee as Hope chats with her sister, making sure to listen in just in case Hope happens to mention certain things. But the conversation stays on the easier topics.

“The children aren’t with you today, then?” Hope asks as Mara is pouring the milk into her coffee, “Mara talks about them all the time. She really loves them.”

“It’s a school day, thank god,” Marlena laughs good-naturedly, “and they’re the three musketeers. You know, Adora told me that Mara let her eat a whole box of Chips Ahoy last month.”

“That little snake was supposed to keep her mouth shut about that,” Mara says, “anyway, I’ll tell on her now – she stole them when my back was turned.”

“And…” Marlena smiles knowingly, “which one of you is the grown-up?”

Mara rolls her eyes as she sits down on the couch and passes Hope her coffee, “listen, I might technically be a grown-up, but I’ll always be a kid in spirit.”

“You’ll always be my baby sister,” Marlena says, ruffling her hair embarrassingly. She glances up at the clock on the mantel and puts her empty coffee cup down. “Anyway, I should be heading back to work. Thanks for the free lunch.”

Mara gets up to walk her to the door, and as Marlena heads out, she flashes a protective older sister smile. “I’m glad you’re making new friends. She seems lovely.”

Mara rolls her eyes, “I have plenty of friends.”

“You have three, and one of them is me,” Marlena laughs, “but hey, now you’ve got four. One more and you’re halfway to ten. Anyway, I’ll see you Sunday.”

“See you Sunday,” Mara waves goodbye to her sister and closes the door behind her, turning around to meet Hope’s gaze, “so… hey.”

“I have a sister too,” Hope says quietly, surprising Mara, “I always assumed the reason we weren’t close is because of the ten-year age gap, but… I suppose not.”

Mara laughs. “We weren’t always close. Constantly bickering when we were younger, and I’d do my best to get her in trouble where I could.”

“That’s a different kind of closeness,” Hope says, “by the time I was old enough to know what was going on, my sister was a teenager, and she didn’t want much to do with me. She moved in with her boyfriend at eighteen, and started a family. I’ve only met her kids a handful of times. She’s certainly not dropping by for lunch.”

“Speaking of dropping by,” Mara segues, “what’d you come over for? Some actually nice sandwiches on – quote – bread that doesn’t taste like you’re chewing on two dish sponges?”

Hope laughs quietly. “Uh, no. I was going to get a haircut. You said you’d like to be there for it. You were probably joking, but maybe I’m just using it as an excuse to spend time with you.”

Mara has to act like the words don’t give her butterflies. “Sure. Yeah. I’d like to come along. I can bring my book to read while the stylist is working their magic.”

Hope smiles. “And I’m hoping you won’t let me chicken out. I want to do it, and the only reason I’d flake is if I think about what my mother or Mark will think, so just… don’t let me.”

“You have my word,” Mara promises her, “even if have to strap you to the chair and cut your hair myself. I won’t let you chicken out.”

“Thanks,” Hope says, and then adds, “also. There’s something else.”

Mara raises her eyebrows. “What’s up?”

“Obviously, you’ll be with your family on Christmas,” Hope says, “as I will be expected to be with mine. But… could we maybe have our own mini Christmas dinner? I’ll cook, you don’t have to worry about that-”

“We’ll both cook,” Mara interrupts, and Hope smiles so brightly it makes her heart stutter, “but there’s one condition.”

Hope nods. “Anything.”

“No turkey.”

“I’d like that, actually,” Hope says, “I’ve been wanting to go vegetarian. Fuck what Mark thinks. It’s not like he can cook, so he’ll eat what I make and keep his complaints to himself.”

Mara blinks in surprise, but then she realises just how proud she is. She pulls Hope in for a tight hug and tells her just that. “Have I ever mentioned how proud I am of you?”

Hope chuckles quietly. “A few times. Come on. Let’s go get my haircut.”

Hope knocks on the apartment door, butterflies in her stomach. She remembers vaguely the first time she’d been invited over to Mara’s, and how nervous and excited she’d felt. Like… like a first date with a crush.

She’s starting to realise that’s what it was. Maybe not in the literal sense, because Mara hadn’t invited her over as anything other than a friend, but it felt like it. And this… this almost feels like a date too. She felt guilty, leaving the house earlier, even though she’d been completely honest with Mark and told him she was heading to Mara’s for dinner.

He’d muttered a sullen, “fine,” and turned back to the TV, as Hope headed off to her imaginary affair. Knowing she has these feelings for Mara, and knowing that she’d never had them for him, makes her feel guilty. She’s going to talk to him, open up to him. Maybe not with the whole truth, but just explaining that she’s not happy in their marriage and thinks it best if they get a divorce.

He’s not going to take it well either way. Hope knows that. But she needs to be upfront with him before she can pursue something with Mara.

If Mara even wants that. They’re close friends – best friends – and Mara might want it to stay that way.

The apartment door swings open, and Mara greets her with a smile. “Hey, Hope.”

“Hey,” Hope steps into the apartment and pulls Mara in for a hug, “smells amazing. You haven’t already started cooking, have you?”

“I may have done a little prep,” Mara says, but when Hope sees the kitchen, she admits, “okay, all of the prep. And the cooking. Look, you deserve a night off from all of that every once in a while.”

Little things. Little things like that make Hope realise how perfect Mara is.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

The words come out before Hope can stop them, and she hates it. She used to be so good at keeping herself in check, but Mara… Mara always inspires honesty, no matter how awkward it might be.

Mara raises her eyebrows in surprise, but as she sits down on the couch and passes Hope a glass of mulled wine, she says finally, “I haven’t dated for a long time.”

It doesn’t entirely answer her question, but Mara is always so guarded about her dating life. She supposes that she has to be, with the world they live in, but still. She knows she’s safe with Hope.

“How long?”

Mara shrugs. “A few years. Most people in the community are smart enough to move to the cities where things are marginally more accepting. Still bad, but not as bad as small towns. I don’t like the city life, but I’d still have moved years ago, if it weren’t for my family. Why do you care, anyway?”

Because I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want that too. “Because you’re so perfect, and any woman would be lucky to have you. I guess I just couldn’t comprehend how you’re still single.”

Mara lets out a breath that sounds a little bit like a laugh. “Perfect. Nobody’s perfect.”

“Fine, you’re as close as it gets,” Hope says, and she knows she’s crossing into dangerous territory when she admits quietly, “I wish I could be with someone like you.”

Mara shifts away from her on the couch and mumbles quietly, “I’m just going to go check on the food.”

Hope watches as she makes her escape and sighs to herself. That was a bad reaction. Proof that Mara doesn’t feel the same? Possibly. But it could also be discomfort, because Mara doesn’t know about Hope’s feelings, doesn’t understand that while yes, she is technically married right now, it’s not really like that. There’s no romance there. Barely any love.

The day she cut her hair short, Mark had told her to grow it back out because it didn’t suit her. Mara, on the other hand, had complimented her, and when Hope looked in the mirror, she felt like she was seeing herself. The day she found out she couldn’t get pregnant, Mark had left her on her own. Mara had taken care of her.

Hope wants Mara. She wants a life with her. Because as confusing as sexuality and labels are, she’s certain about that. No matter what she is, she’s fallen for Mara.

When Mara comes back from checking on the food, she grabs a vinyl record from her collection and goes to put it on. Hope tries to ease some of the tension with a joke. “Please no Bonnie Tyler.”

“Just for that comment, I’m going to get her entire discography,” Mara replies, but she holds up the album cover to show her, “Christmas music. It’s a compilation album.”

Winter Wonderland is the first song to play, and in an impulsive moment, Hope stands up and holds out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Mara looks hesitant, like she isn’t sure if it’s a good idea. Hope doesn’t let her second-guess.

“Come on,” Hope says, “I never get to dance.”

After a few moments, Mara nods. She takes Hope’s hand, and lets her pull her into hold, swaying lightly to the music. Mara takes a minute to relax, but then her grip tightens on Hope’s shoulders, and she asks quietly, “your husband doesn’t dance with you?”

“He doesn’t do anything with me,” Hope answers shortly, not wanting to think about him, “I wanted to take a dance class a little while ago. Tango, to be exact. He thought it would be a waste of time.”

Mara hums quietly, and they fall into a silence, just listening and dancing along with the music. Hope sighs, holding her close by the waist. This is how magical her first dance at her wedding was supposed to feel. Knowing that you’d tied the knot with the right person, dancing with them and sharing your love with your guests.

Hope had none of that. All she felt on her wedding day was anxiety and premature regret. 

“I like this,” Hope admits, pushing the negative thoughts from her head. She keeps her grip tight on Mara’s waist, as though she might fade away when she lets go, and the whirlwind of the last six months will have been a dream. “Dancing with you.”

“Me too,” Mara says quietly, looking up to meet her gaze. Her hands stay rested gently on Hope’s shoulders, and after a few seconds, Mara smiles that beautiful, dazzling smile, the one that Hope thinks she fell for the very first time she saw it.

Her heartbeat quickens in her chest as she looks into Mara’s gorgeous grey eyes. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t talk herself out of it. Maybe it’s the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but right now, she doesn’t care. She’s already been reckless tonight, anyway. She forgets about her family, forgets about her husband, forgets everything she’s ever been told and taught to do.

Hope leans down and pulls Mara in for a kiss. And if it is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, she doesn’t care, because it’s the best. Mara’s lips are so soft, and they fit against hers in a way Mark’s never has. That feeling of fireworks, of love, that she’s always been told she’s supposed to feel… she finally feels it, for the one glorious moment where Mara forgets herself and kisses her back.

But then it’s torn away, and suddenly Mara is pushing her back, stepping away, shaking her head.

“You need to leave.”

Something in Hope’s stomach drops. How could she say that? After all, it’s not like… it’s not like Mara isn’t interested in women. “What?”

“Get out,” Mara won’t look at her. She shakes her head, refusing to meet Hope’s gaze. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mara—”

“Get out!” Mara shouts, and it’s so foreign to see her angry that it makes Hope startle. “Get the fuck out, Hope.”

“Okay,” Hope backs away, towards the door, “I’m sorry. I’m just…” she pauses, hand on the door handle, ready to admit everything she’s ever felt for Mara. But the bravery she felt before is gone, and Mara still won’t look at her. “I’m sorry.”

She waits until she’s out of the apartment building to burst into tears.

“Mara…”

Mara freezes when she hears Hope’s voice. With a tense smile, she passes the customer her cupcake and turns and walks back to the counter like Hope isn’t there.

“Mara, please,” she hears Hope’s footsteps behind her, “can we talk?”

“I’m going to take my break,” Mara says quickly to her boss, slipping past Hope and rushing into the back room. Employees only, the door reads in big, bold script, and she knows that her manager wouldn’t let Hope in here if she asked.

She sinks down onto the couch with a sigh, running her hands through her hair. Hope has come into the bakery every day for the last week and a half, trying to talk to her. As much as she wants to, and as guilty as she feels for freezing her out like this, Mara knows she can’t talk to her.

Not until her feelings pass.

It’s proving impossibly hard, since Hope kissed her. It had been everything Mara has wanted since she laid eyes on her, but it’s all tainted. Tainted because Hope is married, obviously bored with her douchebag husband, and trying to experiment with her. After all, Mara’s the one who told her she’s down to try anything, that she was safe with her.

Maybe she should just tell Hope how she feels, how she’s always felt. That would push her away for good, and with the way things are… maybe she needs to.

There’s a knock on the break room door, and then her boss peeks her head around the corner. “That woman’s gone. The one you’re suddenly being a dick to.”

Mara sighs quietly. “I’m not being a dick.”

“I think you’re biased,” her boss shrugs, “whatever she did, she obviously wants to apologise and move on from it. I’m sure it wasn’t something so horrific that you need to cut her out like this. You two seemed like you were good friends.”

Mara understands that Hope probably does want exactly that. But sometimes she has to take care of herself first, and she doesn’t know if she can bear to be just friends with Hope now that she knows what it’s like to kiss her.

She needs to be a little stubborn here. And after she’s gotten over it, if Hope doesn’t hate her, they can be friends again.

She’d tried to give Mara space, hoping that would make her call.

It hadn’t.

So far, the new year had sucked royally. Without Mara, things have gone back to being dull and miserable and grey. Mark still expects her to wait on him hand and foot, and rolls his eyes when she tells him she’s applying for vet jobs. After all, Hope reasons, there’s no point in being a stay-at-home mom when you can never be a mom.

She hasn’t mentioned a divorce to him yet. Honestly, she’s more concerned about things with Mara at the moment. But when she’d dropped that she was considering it to her mother, she’d gasped and begged her to try couple’s therapy.

Couple’s therapy isn’t going to fix things. Hope knows that much. She never should’ve married him in the first place. She was young, and pressured into it by her family, and by Mark himself, who had probably grown up believing she belonged to him thanks to the way their parents always pushed them together.

Maybe he does love her, in his own way. She loves him, just not the way she’s supposed to. And despite how little he always seems to care about her feelings, she doesn’t want to hurt him, even though she knows she has to.

But first, Mara. She just needs to fix things with Mara. She doesn’t think she can go through the divorce without anybody in her corner. Even if it’s just platonic.

Clearly, Mara isn’t going to talk to her of her own volition. She hadn’t called, and when Hope purposefully passed by the bakery, she knows Mara saw her. She could feel those beautiful grey eyes watching her every move until Hope walked out of sight.

So, she finally pulls her shoes on and heads back to the bakery. Not before checking herself out in the mirror first, in an anxious way anyone would when they’re going to meet their crush and finally tell them how they really feel.

She has to make Mara listen. She has to explain herself. And if Mara doesn’t want to be friends after that… then Hope will have to accept it.

As she pushes open the bakery doors, Mara doesn’t see her. She knows that when she does, she’ll take her break, or attract the attention of one of her colleagues and get them to deal with Hope.

Hope doesn’t give her chance. She walks right over, takes Mara by the arm, and pulls her into the storage cupboard. When Mara realises what’s happening, she pulls her arm from Hope’s grip, but Hope pulls the door closed and blocks it.

“Hope, this isn’t okay,” Mara says firmly, “move away from the door. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I shouldn’t have just kissed you without asking you, or making sure it was what you wanted too,” Hope says, ignoring Mara and jumping right into her confession, “but the truth is, you make me feel so happy, happier than I ever thought I could feel. I think about you all the time, and these last few months knowing you have been the best of my life. I’ve never felt that way with Mark, ever.”

Mara scoffs. “Your shitty husband isn’t an excuse to try and experiment with me just because you’re bored.”

“That’s… that’s what you think it was?” Hope asks, and the frosty attitude suddenly makes a whole lot of sense, “No, Mara, I… it’s not an experiment. I have feelings for you, real feelings. I’ve never felt so comfortable with another person before, so safe, so accepted. Over the last few months with you, I’ve realised a lot of things about myself, and one of those is that I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but either way, I’m going to get a divorce. I do love Mark, but I understand now that it’s not a romantic love, and it never has been. But what I feel for you… that is.”

Mara stares at her for a moment, like she’s waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, she asks quietly, “is this some kind of joke?”

“Would I have come in here every day for the last month trying to talk to you if it was?” Hope tries to swallow any nerves she feels – with Mara, she’s never had to be nervous – and she reaches out to take Mara’s hand. Finally, Mara doesn’t push her away. “I get to be me when I’m with you. You don’t order me around like my family, push me into things, or berate me for the most petty, useless things. You taught me how to really smile, and laugh, and how to be truly myself, regardless of what anybody else thinks. I want to be with you. I know the world we live in, and I know it’s not going to be easy, but I want it anyway. I want a life with you, Mara… if you’ll have me.”

Mara’s hand tightens around hers, and Hope feels something in her stomach jump. Even just holding her hand makes her feel so much, and she doesn’t know how she ever thought she could feel this for her husband. Now that she knows what it’s like to really feel that for someone, she can’t believe she ever mistook what she feels for Mark as real, romantic love.

“Okay,” Mara takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, “I need you to be really, really sure that this is what you want.”

Hope blinks in surprise. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s… it’s a maybe,” Mara murmurs, “I need you to be sure.”

“I’m so sure,” Hope says firmly, “I’ve never been surer about anything. God, Mara, I… I love you.”

Mara finally looks up, and Hope meets those beautiful grey eyes. “You’re getting a divorce?”

“Yes,” Hope nods, “I’m going to talk to Mark about it later today. I just… I needed to talk to you first. You were the most important thing. I needed you to know how I felt, even if you don’t feel the same.”

“I do,” Mara answers quietly, “honestly, Hope, I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt anything purely platonic towards you.”

Hope blinks in surprise. She had genuinely no idea that Mara felt the same, besides the way she’d kissed her back for a moment before pushing her away. “Even when we first met?”

“I thought you were a goddess sent down purely to taunt me about what I couldn’t have,” Mara admits, and she finally smiles, “I noticed your wedding ring instantly.”

Hope isn’t wearing her wedding ring, or her engagement ring. She’d taken both of them off last night, when she’d decided to make Mara listen to her, and doesn’t intend on ever putting them back on.

“Admittedly, I realised a little later than that,” Hope says, “it was that night you looked after me when I drank too much. I looked over to you, next to me in bed, and I realised that was what I’d always wanted. Realised how you’re perfect for me. I’m not sure if I believed in soulmates until I met you, because I think you’re mine. And I think, on some level, I’ve felt this way ever since I ran into you that day, even if I wasn’t aware of it.”

Mara smiles, and Hope can’t help but smile too. After a few moments, the older woman laughs, and says, “so, you’re into women.”

“Exclusively,” Hope says, “and I’m exclusively into you.”

“I’m sorry,” Mara says, and for a moment, Hope is a little worried, “for being a dick during the last month. I was just trying to put some distance between us so I could get over you. I thought… I thought you just wanted to experiment, and I didn’t think I could put myself through that.”

“It’s okay,” Hope promises her, “kind of hard to be mad at you when you’re so pretty.”

Mara rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle blush on her cheeks, “oh, stop flirting with me.”

“So,” Hope starts, squeezing Mara’s hand, “will you be my girlfriend, Mara? I’d ask you on a date, but it feels… it feels kind of like we’ve already done that.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mara agrees quietly, “as for the girlfriend thing… don’t you think we should wait until you’re not married?”

“Fuck waiting,” Hope says firmly, “I never should’ve gotten married in the first place. I just felt like I had to, because it was expected of me. I didn’t know what I really wanted, or anything about myself. But now… god, I’m done living my life for other people. I want to be happy, and… and you make me happy. There’ll be a hell of a lot of unhappy coming my way once I talk to Mark, so…”

“Okay,” Mara says, “we should be responsible here. I know we should. I should tell you that you need to wait, spend some time being single to figure out what you really want. But I don't think I can. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything, and I know... something about this, about you, it feels right. So, yes. Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Hope can’t remember a time she’s ever felt so happy. She reaches out, puts her hands on Mara’s waist, and pulls her in for a kiss. It’s just as perfect as the first one, only this time, when Mara pulls back, she smiles.

“I have to get back to work,” Mara tells her, and Hope sighs and rolls her eyes. Mara laughs good-naturedly, reaching out and fixing the collar of the flannel shirt Hope is half-certain she’d stolen from Mara’s closet. “I’ll see you later? If you want, you can come over once you’ve spoken to Mark.”

Hope nods. “I’ll be there.”

“What’re you going to tell him?” Mara asks, and then says, “hey, so, just realised I’m gay and in love with my best friend, so I’m going to need a divorce. Thanks!”

“I don’t think I’ll tell him that,” Hope says, “honestly… I’m not sure if either of us is entirely happy. He wants something I can never be, and I think part of him knows that. We want different things. That's the easiest way of putting it. He’ll find the right woman for him one day."

Mara smiles. “Like you did.”

Hope laughs quietly in agreement. “Yeah. Like I did.”

“I was hoping you’d be in here.”

Mara looks up, meeting her girlfriend’s gaze with a smile. Adora calls it her ‘gooey lovesick smile’ and if Mara was planning on being immature, she’d tell her that it’s exactly the way she looks when she smiles at Catra.

But Adora’s eighteen, has her first real crush, and Mara is a grown up. Supposedly. At least, at thirty-nine years old, she’s assumed to be one. So she keeps her mouth shut. She can’t say the same for her girlfriend.

“What’s up?” Mara asks, buttoning up her shirt and checking herself out in the mirror. “Is this one yours?”

“I think we’re past figuring out which clothes are mine and which are yours,” Hope laughs gently, sitting down on the edge of their bed. She pats the spot next to her. “Come here a minute. I want to talk to you about something.”

Mara smiles, sitting next to Hope and taking her hand like it’s a reflex. “I’m all ears.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about our ten-year anniversary,” Hope says, and adds quickly, “yes, I know it’s not until January, but with everything going on right now, I thought it would be best to plan ahead.”

“Okay,” Mara hums in thought, “what’re you thinking? You know we can’t just run off to Paris like we did for our fifth anniversary, right? We have Adora to look after now.”

“If it weren’t for everything going on right now, I’d argue that she’s eighteen and we can trust her with the house, but…” Hope shrugs, “I’m not particularly keen on leaving her on her own either, I’d worry too much. Anyway, I’m not talking about jetting off anywhere.”

Mara nods. “Okay. Why do we need to plan so far ahead, then?”

“We don’t, really,” Hope says, “this is just me, worrying about what’s happening. And as much as I tell Adora that we’re fine, that nothing is going to happen to us, I can’t know that for sure, but life is too short. And honestly, I don’t want to miss my chance to do something because I wanted to wait for a specific date.”

“I had something planned,” Hope continues, “close your eyes.”

Mara raises her eyebrows questioningly, but when Hope just smiles and waits, she closes her eyes. “Okay. What now?”

“I want you to picture something,” Hope says, “a nice romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant, just the two of us. There aren’t any other customers, because obviously I rented the whole place out for us. Imagine… the place is candlelit, and I order the most expensive champagne on the menu. The waiter pours a glass for each of us, and I raise mine to start a toast.”

“I look across the table at you, notice how beautiful you look in the candlelight,” Hope says, “you always look beautiful, but I’d get a chance, in the candlelight, to appreciate it even more than I usually do. I’d tell you just how perfect I think you are, and how grateful I am that you’re my soulmate. I’d talk about the life we’ve shared together, the last ten years of pure bliss. I’d talk about how I literally crashed into the love of my life in a little bakery, how she taught me how to really be me. I’d talk about how you were there for me through everything, how perfect our first kiss was, how perfect our first time was, how perfect every single moment in the last ten years have been. And then, when the moment feels perfect, I’ll get down on one knee, and propose to you.”

“Now you know we’re really dreaming,” Mara smiles sadly, opening her eyes, because if she could, she’d have made Hope her wife years ago. She uses the word anyway, because she doesn’t need a piece of paper for Hope to be her wife. “Maybe one day, though.”

“Just because legally we can’t get married…” Hope says, “there’s no laws to say that we can’t get engaged. One day, I’ll be able to walk down that aisle to you. I don’t know when, but I know I will. With that being said…”

Hope leans over, kisses Mara’s cheek, and then stands up off the bed. She smiles, bending down to one knee, and pulls a ring box from her back pocket, opening it up. “Mara, my beautiful, amazing soulmate… will you marry me?”

Mara’s jaw drops in surprise, and she stares at the very real diamond ring in the box in Hope’s hand. She’s completely speechless, but she manages to find words long enough to ask, “are you serious?”

“I’m so serious,” Hope smiles that beautiful, radiant smile, the one she barely wore for the first twenty-four years of her life, “well? What do you say?”

“Yes!” Mara says; there was never any chance she’d say no, “god, a million, billion, trillion times yes.”

Hope slides the ring onto her finger and pulls her in for a kiss. They pull apart slowly, but Mara brings her back in for another, mumbling quietly against her girlfriend’s lips – no, her fiancée’s lips - and smiles.

“We’re engaged,” she says, and it hasn’t really sunk in, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of proposing first.”

Hope laughs. She shrugs, and mimes a hair flip over her shoulder, because her actual hair is too short for that. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

“Definitely not,” Mara kisses her again, and pulls back to admire the engagement ring on her finger, “this is beautiful. How much did you spend?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out,” Hope smiles elusively, “all you need to know is that I spent what I felt you deserved. And I’m not telling you because you’ll definitely be all dramatic with me for being needlessly excessive.”

Mara rolls her eyes fondly. “You know me too well.”

“In everything but paper, you’re already my wife,” Hope shrugs easily, “of course I know you,” she kisses Mara’s cheek, takes one last look at the ring sparkling on her finger, and pushes herself up from the bed. “Okay, I’m going to start on dinner.”

“Don’t,” Mara says, “we should go out. Celebrate our engagement.”

“Sounds good,” Hope smiles, “I’ll go invite Adora. Isn’t she in her room? With Catra?”

Hope wiggles her eyebrows, and Mara rolls her eyes, smiling fondly. “Oh my god, you have to stop teasing them.”

“But it’s so funny, the way she blushes and gets so embarrassed,” Hope laughs, “you know she told me that Catra’s gay too, right? She’s totally got a shot. What do you want to bet she’ll ask her out in the next month?”

“We’re not making bets on our niece’s love life,” Mara gets up and slips past her girlfriend, “you go out and start the truck. I’ll ask Adora and Catra if they want to come out for dinner with us.”

Hope laughs. “Ask them if they’ll come out in general.”

“I’m not asking them that,” Mara calls as she makes her way down the hallway, “and don’t you dare!”

“No promises!”

Mara rolls her eyes again, but she’s still smiling as she rounds the corner to Adora’s bedroom and knocks on the door. The muffled voices inside stop, and a few moments later, the door opens.

“Hey,” Adora smiles, and there’s the remnants of a pink blush on her cheeks. Mara glances over at Catra, who is stretched out on Adora’s bed, a movie playing on the TV that she doesn’t doubt is getting ignored. “Did you need something?”

“Hope and I are going out for dinner,” Mara says, “you and Catra are welcome to join if you like.”

Adora’s still smiling as she turns around to Catra and asks her if she wants to go out for dinner or not, and Mara lets herself feel proud. After everything she’s been through over the last few months, it’s good to see Adora smiling.

The reason that Adora has been so happy lately shrugs over on the bed and says, “I could go for some dinner.”

“Okay,” Adora nods, “we’ll join you guys. Are we going to the diner?”

Mara shrugs. “I was thinking somewhere a little fancier.”

“Huh, okay,” Adora says, not at all questioning why. She waits for Catra to get up and follow her out of the bedroom, and still doesn’t notice. “Is Hope in the car already?”

“Wait, dummy,” Catra says, narrowing her eyes at Mara’s hand, and Mara is grateful that Adora’s interested in someone so observant. “Is that a new ring?”

“It might be,” Mara smirks to herself, “why do you ask?”

Adora reaches out and grabs her hand by the wrist, frowning at the ring. “That looks expensive. Kind of like an engagement ring.”

“It is an engagement ring, genius.”

“I knew that,” Adora whispers back, rolling her eyes, “obviously.”

“Yeah, it was real obvious,” Catra laughs quietly, “she wants to go somewhere fancy for dinner, and she’s wearing a diamond ring. And your first thought was is Hope in the car?”

They keep playfully bickering as they get in the backseat of the car, Catra teasing Adora, and Adora rolling her eyes and obviously blushing, and anyone with eyes can see they’re completely head over heels for one another but them.

When they get to the restaurant, Adora and Catra are first out of the car, and Mara watches them with a smile as Catra says something, Adora reaches out and shoves her lightly, but then pulls her back into a hug. Both young, nervous, with no idea what life has in store for them.

“They kind of remind me of us, a little,” Hope says, speaking Mara’s exact train of thought, “ten years ago when we were both so in love with each other but too scared to say anything. Still figuring things out.”

Mara smiles. “I get what you mean.”

“Hey,” Adora calls, waving towards the restaurant, “are you guys coming, or not?”

“I guess that’s our cue,” Hope laughs, pushing open the driver’s side door, “come on, my gorgeous fiancée. Let’s celebrate the first night of an inevitably long engagement.”

“Yeah,” Mara smiles, “let’s go. Fiancée.”