The Meant to Be Collection

by Claire Highton-Stevenson

  Thinking back to that night weeks ago at Art, Catherine said, “I think you might be right. Your memory is definitely back then.”

  Brooke grinned, nodding. She took Catherine’s hand and led her through to her own room. “And, my wrist is working just fine too.” She waggled it to prove the point.

  “Oh, well in that case…” Catherine giggled as Brooke toed the door open and made a grab for her. “You’re overdressed.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  As Christmas Eves went, this was turning out to be one of the best Brooke had ever witnessed, not counting the year she finally got a Mr Frosty in her sack from Santa.

  Robin was out on a double date with Miles, Jas, and Simeon. That meant that Catherine had come over, ready to spend the entire three days of Christmas together. Brooke had created a new Chambers tradition: fish and chip take away dinner, with cans of pre-mixed cocktails and a tub of ice cream.

  They had eaten dinner on their laps out of the paper it was wrapped in, while James Bond entertained on the TV, but the ice cream was currently being smeared across Catherine’s torso. Brooke licked the melting salted caramel as it ran in slow icy drips to pool at Catherine’s belly button.

  “This is definitely the best way…” Her tongue swiped and dipped. “…to eat ice cream.” She grinned, licking her lips before dipping down to clean up the rest.

  “Uh huh. I can say it’s certainly an experience.” Catherine writhed gently under the teasing strokes of Brooke’s tongue. “Feel free to extend the buffet table.”

  Brooke laughed. Picking up the pot of now soft and very melted cold liquid, she dripped it strategically between folds and chuckled as Catherine gasped, first at the coolness and then at the attention Brooke’s mouth was giving her.

  ~FI~

  It was cosy and warm as Brooke burrowed deeper under the duvet, pressing up against the warmth of Catherine as she lay equally snug. Brooke lay there quietly and listened for any sound in the house. There was noise coming from somewhere, a low hum. As she listened more, the giveaway click of the kettle reaching its boiling point could just be heard. She needed to remember just how thin these walls were. Catherine rolled over and mumbled in her sleep, and Brooke couldn’t keep the grin from her face.

  Reaching over, Brooke found her phone and checked the time. Just after 9 a.m. Placing a kiss against Catherine’s forehead, she slid gently out of bed and re-wrapped Catherine under the covers. It had been a late one for them, she thought as she grinned at the memories.

  Stretching out, she yawned and reached for her old work out trackies, pulling them on quickly to escape the cold. She found a clean hoodie and yanked it over her head. grateful to no longer be wincing at every movement. At this rate, she would be back to work in the new year, and Catherine had hinted at outing them both to colleagues. Not that Brooke was that bothered. She had confided in Amber of course, and she just wanted to double date, now that she was seeing Brian.

  Brooke shuffled into the kitchen and found Robin in her usual spot, in front of the oven. She had a jug of eggs whisked, and a plate of raw sausages and bacon ready to fry.

  “Catherine’s a vegetarian,” Brooke said to Robin’s back. The teen stiffened and turned quickly.

  “What? Why has nobody told me this? Oh my God.”

  Brooke laughed. “Just kidding.”

  Robin tossed the tea towel at her and scowled. “You’re such a shit.”

  “I know, but your face…” Brooke continued to laugh.

  “Did you want breakfast?” Robin asked, in all seriousness. She was the one cooking after all, and she could easily stop.

  “Uh, okay…I’ll just…I’ll wake Catherine up then.”

  “Yeah, you do that, and then you can set the table… and don’t forget Dad.”

  Brooke stopped smiling. “I won’t. Head of the table, right?”

  Robin only nodded, before turning back to finish her task. Scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, with mushrooms and toast. The Chambers Christmas Breakfast!

  ~FI~

  Brooke slipped back into her room and crept over to the bed. Sliding back in under the covers, she pressed up against Catherine’s sleeping form once more.

  “Morning, Baby,” she whispered, placing gentle kisses along her bare shoulder. “It’s Christmas morning and time to get up.” More kisses, this time the pressure a little firmer. Catherine groaned, moving her head to make room for those kisses to spread to her neck. “Catherine, Sweetheart?”

  “Mm nice, don’t stop,” she mumbled, and Brooke giggled. Catherine rolled backwards, lying supine under Brooke’s now-hovering body. Her eyes flickered open in the dim light. “Come back to bed.”

  Brooke smiled and shook her head. “Can’t, Robin is cooking breakfast and you’re invited to attend.”

  Catherine rubbed her face and yawned. A piece of hair lay across her forehead and Brooke moved it aside, placing a kiss where it had been, then another on her nose, before finally kissing her mouth. “Hmm, maybe we both need to brush our teeth.” She laughed and earned a playful slap.

  “Fine, I’m getting up.” Catherine smiled but didn’t make any effort to move. “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

  “Merry Christmas, wanna share a shower? I think we’ve got approximately five more minutes, but I reckon we can stretch it to seven.”

  ~FI~

  Breakfast was beyond amazing, and both Catherine and Brooke were quick to heap praise on Robin. The youngster had been a little subdued, which Brooke assumed was to do with their dad not being there. She wasn’t sure what more she could do about that other than to just let Robin have her quiet time and try to nudge her out of her funk throughout the day.

  “So, presents now or later?” Brooke asked as Catherine cleared the dishes and stacked them by the sink for Brooke to wash.

  “I don’t mind,” she said over her shoulder. “What do you want to do, Robin?”

  The teenager shrugged. “I guess we could do them now.”

  Brooke jumped up. “Great,” she said excitedly, and Catherine couldn’t help but enjoy the exuberance. “I’ll get them out from under the tree, meet you in the lounge when you’re ready.”

  With Brooke gone, Catherine took the opportunity to speak with Robin. “Everything okay?” she asked, wiping her hands on the towel.

  Robin looked up, surprised by the question. “Yeah, just…I was thinking about my mum.”

  “Oh.” Catherine wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t know much about the woman. Brooke rarely mentioned her, and the only things she did know had been from asking questions. She sat back down in her chair and poured another cup of tea from the pot.

  “It’s just, normally I don’t think about her, well, rarely…she made her choices and they don’t involve us,” she explained as Catherine listened. “It’s been really nice having you here, and we’ve been like a proper family. I know that you’re Brooke’s girlfriend, but I know that you’re older than her too, and…”

  “I’m not your mum, Robin, and I’d never want to take her place, but if you ever feel like you need someone else to talk to, someone other than Brooke, I am here.” She reached out and took Robin’s hand. She didn’t know how things would work out with Brooke; she hoped for the best, but she was pragmatic enough to know that things could change.

  “Thanks, I just miss them both. My Dad’s dead and my Mum might as well be.” She shrugged again.

  “I am sure that on days like today, she thinks of you both too.”

  Robin scoffed, “Doubt it, she’s a very selfish woman, Catherine.”

  The older woman nodded. “Well, in that case, I think what we have to do is make sure that we have as much fun as we can. Starting with opening presents, come on.” She stood and grabbed Robin’s hand. “I know for a fact there are quite a few for you!”

  ~FI~

  Wrapping paper covered the carpet as presents were unwrapped, ooed over, and then placed neatly in a pile while the next was passed over for opening. Brooke grinned as
Robin ripped open the gifts and squealed at the new CDs and tops. She was even more excited when she opened Catherine’s gift, a new pair of trainers that cost more than Robin had earned in a month.

  “Oh, wow. Thank you so much,” she gushed as she threw her arms around Catherine. “Jas is going to be so jealous.”

  “Well, there is a little something for her too, if you would give it to her when you see her.”

  “Thank you!”

  They both turned to watch as Brooke lifted her present from Catherine.

  She made a big deal of lifting it, listening to it, and shaking it gently as she tried to work out what it was. It was a big box, but it was really light and silent.

  “Oh, come on, B.” Robin laughed. “Just open it, how can you stand it?”

  Finally, she ripped the paper off and opened the box. Pulling out tissue paper, she raised a brow. “Is this box empty?”

  Catherine laughed. “No.”

  Eventually, she came to the bottom and found an envelope stuck down. She gently pulled it free and inspected it. It was sealed with a lipstick mark. “Yours, I hope.” She chuckled as Catherine nodded. She slid a finger under the lip and eased the glue free to reveal a piece of paper, folded into three. “’This certificate gives the bearer, Brooke Chambers, the option of two weeks in the sun with Catherine Blake somewhere hot and exotic.’ What? really?”

  “Yes, I spoke with Robin and she already checked with Mrs Khan. Once we pick dates, she can stay with them, and we can spend a romantic two weeks lying in the…” She was cut off as Brooke leant across the discarded box to plant a kiss on her lips.

  Robin stood up, laughing at them. “Get a room.”

  Epilogue

  The sun beat down on already tanned skin, shining beneath a sheen of oil and sweat. Catherine rolled over onto her front and leant up on her elbows to continue reading her book. Her attention was caught by movement in front of her. She placed the book down and looked up to see Brooke emerging from the pool. Her hair was longer now and was swept back off her face, dripping droplets of water onto her shoulder. She glistened in the sunshine and grinned as she stalked back to the sunbeds, naked.

  “Hey,” Catherine said, shielding her eyes from the sun. She would never tire of looking at this woman, clothed or naked. “Good swim?”

  “Yeah,” Brooke replied. Flopping down on the plastic bed, she used the towel to dab at her skin. “It’s so warm in there.”

  “Hmm, well it’s 34 degrees today, so I should think it will be quite warm.” It had been the perfect idea to rent a private villa rather than stay at a hotel. They had the pool to themselves and had made quite the most of it since their arrival.

  “I think you should join me next time.”

  “Maybe I will… but first, I need a drink. Would you like one?”

  Brooke leant back on her palms and watched, mesmerised as Catherine’s naked backside passed her by. “Yes, please.”

  Catherine reached for a robe and pulled it on. The thin material clung to her skin, and Brooke considered just how sexy the image was. She gave in and got up, following her lover back into the villa.

  Catherine gasped as Brooke reached around from behind and hugged her close. “I think that the only thing I need to drink right now, is you.”

  “Oh.” Catherine giggled. Turning in her arms, she found Brooke’s lips in an instant. Making no effort to stop her from kissing her, she melted into it. She made no effort to stop Brooke from lifting her onto the counter top, inserting herself between her thighs. She wrapped them around Brooke’s waist, trapping her there as they continued to kiss and enjoy one another. “I was thinking,” Catherine said between kisses. “We’ve been together for eight months.”

  “Uh huh,” Brooke said. Kissing a trail down Catherine’s neck, she let her tongue slide along the dips of her collarbone.

  “And, I thought maybe…” She groaned as Brooke’s warm mouth wrapped around her stiffened nipple and sucked gently, her tongue licking it over and over until she could barely concentrate. “Move in with me,” She finally got out.

  Brooke stopped in her tracks and stood back up. “Seriously? What about Robin?”

  “I have three bedrooms. She can choose which of the spare ones she would like.” Her palms cupped Brooke’s face. “I think we could…it would work, wouldn’t it? Me and you, we work. This, it’s…it’s what I want…permanently.”

  “I want that too. But I need to see that Robin is okay with it.”

  Catherine nodded, her eyes glancing shyly to the floor.

  Brooke titled Catherine’s chin upwards and made eye contact. “I love you and I want to spend my life with you,” she admitted. “And Robin loves you too, so I don’t foresee there being a negative answer to the question, but she insists that I stop thinking of her as four years old.” She smiled, and Catherine chuckled at the joke. “I want to wake up with you everyday.”

  Catherine smiled and kissed her once more. “I love you.” She fingered the small penguin pendant Brooke had gotten her for Christmas. “Penguins mate for life, right?”.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Claire Highton-Stevenson is a contemporary romance writer in the Lesfic genre.

  She is from the UK but often her books are set in the States. She loves to travel and often places that she visits appear in the pages of a story.

  When Claire isn't writing, she can be found lurking on social media, watching football (It's not Soccer) and enjoying time with her friends and family.

  Claire is married and has 4 fur babies to look after.

  If you enjoyed these books, or any other of Claire’s books, then please consider leaving a review.

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  The Doll Maker

  A Sophie Whitton Story

  Prologue

  He hadn’t grown up knowing that he would murder another person, let alone several, but he had. Hadn’t everybody considered doing it? Only he had actually done it, and now it was all that consumed him. The small voice in his head grew louder with every passing day, soothing his worries, whispering encouragement and prodding him forwards.

  It wasn’t as grisly as the movies made out. There was blood, of course, but it hadn’t been the stomach-curdling event that he thought it would be. Blind rage would do that for you. Or maybe he was just different, unaffected.

  Thinking back to the moment when it first came down to it, he knew it was meant to be. He understood that as he took in the artistry of his creation, but it wasn’t quite right. He was still working on that part. Funny, how it had just come to him like that. Just a flicker of a memory and he had the perfect accessory.

  It was 9:04. A.M. when it happened; he knew that because he had looked at his watch just seconds before she had started. He just wanted to read the newspaper, but her voice shrieking across the room like a drunken banshee had grated on him. It went through him like nails down a chalkboard. He cocked his head at her, and right then, in that precise moment, he knew he would kill her. He kn
ew it like he knew the sky was blue and grass was green. It was that simple.

  In the background he could hear the faint echoes of a Whitney Houston song playing on the radio. Remnants of snow lingered outside through the cracked window pane. Winter had come late this year. He felt the hard, wooden floor beneath his feet, threadbare carpets doing little to cushion his steps. When he looked at her again, it wasn’t her face that gawped back at him, reminding him why it was that she preferred his absence. She had friends coming over; she didn’t want him hanging around tonight. The same excuses. It used to be because he was too young; now it was because he was too old.

  He moved with such speed that she didn’t even register the change in him. Too busy with her own selfish need to enjoy the pleasures in life to be concerned with him, and that was when he knew why he would kill her: because she reminded him of her. His mother.

  His fist was first to react. A direct hit between the eyes, smashing the bridge of her nose in a bone-crunching blow. She staggered, but the bitch held firm, numb from the booze and drugs that consumed her. Her expression at first was quizzical when he grabbed her by the throat. As he began to squeeze, then she knew. He saw the fear within her. Her eyes bulging, his grip tightening.

  “It’s all your fault,” he hissed, spittle bathing her face as he pulled her closer to him. “You and your filthy, vile and disgusting lifestyle-” His grip loosened a little. He would take his time. Anger was pushing him onwards, but hate would make this worthwhile. “-without you and him,” he snarled at the thought of his father. “Without you both, she would still be here.”

  “Please, baby don’t. Come on, I’ll do anything.” Her voice was scratchy as she gasped for every breath, to no avail. He remembered pleading similarly as a child not to be sent away; to no avail either. “Anything you want,” she tugged at her top, showing him her tits; he liked her tits. He let go of her throat then and for a second she thought maybe, it would be okay. Until he slapped her. His palm hard against her cheek.