“Here’s my problem, though,” Sarah was saying in between mouthfuls of terrible cake. “What am I going to call Bree now? ‘Toyboy and Schoolgirl’ has such a great ring to it, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to beat it.”
“People sometimes call me ‘Goldilocks’,” Bree offered. “Or ‘Shirley Temple’.”
Sarah didn’t look taken with either of those. “Not the same. And what am I going to do if Toyboy goes on testosterone and doesn’t look 18 anymore? My world is falling apart.”
“You’re safe with ‘Toyboy’ for now,” I promised her, although I’d been catching myself wondering more about what it would be like to not have any feminine curves that I needed to hide. I was sick of having secrets. “I’m not even close to a decision yet. I’m just going to focus on finishing this Frost contract and doing my master’s for now.”
“It would be so cool to watch someone go through that, though,” Gemma reflected. “Like, with testosterone and all that stuff.”
“Glad I could be of entertainment to you,” I told her dryly and threw a lump of marzipan at her head.
It actually got caught in her waves and she had to fish it out. She put it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully on it. “I’m serious, aren’t you even a tiny bit curious what you’d look like?”
“Of course he isn’t,” Sarah said, gesturing at Henry. “Here’s one we prepared earlier. God, as if they’re not basically twins already.”
Henry grinned. “I think you should start taking it now,” he told me neutrally. When everyone looked at him, he added, “You can go to all my breakfast meetings for me while I sleep in.”
We finished the cake and broke out all the other junk food, and Gemma started telling us all a story about something that happened to her in Thailand while we listened and complained how jealous we were. Afterwards, she passed around her phone to show us all photos as we laughed, and joked, and stuffed ourselves full of crap food.
Bree was quiet despite the fact the party was for her, and she sat close to me, listening, watching everyone, and clutching the case with her beautiful good luck pen in it. In the reflection of the dark window opposite us, I could see she was smiling peacefully. I was surprised to notice that I was smiling, too.
It was so domestic, sitting around Sarah’s dining table like this. Being surrounded by people who wanted to do nice things for us; who enjoyed making us happy and went out of their way to help us. There was so much safety in it. I felt like anything might go wrong for me and I had this group of people who’d all rally around me and try and make it right again.
And I couldn’t describe how that felt.
How it felt to feel supported. To feel accepted. To feel loved and celebrated for who I was, and to watch the same people celebrating the girl I was in love with. I almost couldn’t believe it was real. It felt far, far too good to be real.
I didn’t need to go it alone after all—I wished I’d known that earlier. When I’d needed someone and Mum wasn’t there for me, these people—all of them—were. I cast my eyes around the table, feeling such an ache in my chest for every single one of them.
I might have had a shitty childhood and a mother who didn’t love or accept the real me, but that wasn’t my last shot at being part of a family.
I’d found them, and all of them loved me exactly the way I was.
THE END
***
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
Under My Skin
Flesh & Blood
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