Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DISCLAIMER; AI GENERATED IMAGES OF LISA AND CARLA. All images are for entertainment purposes only.

Manchester Airport – December 23rd, 7:42 PM

The terminal was chaos, not the type that could be solved with a few cleaners and a shift change, but the kind that came when flights were canceled, runways shut down, and passengers funneled into one overcrowded space with nowhere else to go. The customer service desk was drowning under complaints, the staff pale and flustered, their uniforms wrinkled from too many hours on their feet.

Carla Connor stood slightly apart from the crowd, pressed back against the cold glass near Gate 14. Her winter coat hung over her arm, heavy and awkward. She kept her phone in her hand but hadn’t touched the screen in long minutes. The battery percentage slid lower every time she glanced at it, and she was too drained to care.

She hated airports at the best of times. Too loud, too many people moving without order. Tonight was worse. Everyone was snapping, barking at staff, or pacing with their luggage like trapped animals. She’d seen stress before, in operating theatres, but this was different. No one’s life was on the line here, yet the behavior wasn’t far off from panic.

Her eyes drifted toward the desk. A woman in a bright red parka leaned across the counter, shouting at a boy who couldn’t have been older than twenty. He kept trying to type, hands trembling on the keyboard. Carla shook her head and looked away. She wasn’t going to join the mob. Better to wait until the worst of it burned itself out. She had time to spare.

Her own flight from London to Dublin had been rerouted down here. The storm had closed multiple runways and diverted traffic all over the country. Now she was stuck in Manchester, a city she hadn’t planned to be in, stranded in a crowd of people she didn’t want to deal with.

She lifted her hand, brushed hair behind her ear, then let it drop back into place. The motion was automatic, a habit she never grew out of. It gave her something to do with her hands.

That was when she noticed the boots, they stopped a step in front of her. Polished black leather, neat, raised heel. Carla’s eyes moved upward—navy trousers, crease sharp down the leg, a jacket with silver buttons, white piping across the shoulders. A British Airline uniform. A Captain.

Then her gaze reached the face. Blonde hair pulled tight beneath a cap. Bright green eyes steady, searching. A jawline she remembered clearly, one she had traced with her fingers in the dark school dorm rooms, and the pouty lips she had touched countless times with her own. The sight surprised her more than she expected, bringing back memories she hadn’t realized were still there.

Her chest tightened, her throat dry.

“Lisa?” Her voice came out low, almost cautious, like she wasn’t sure if saying the name would make the moment vanish.

The woman blinked, then broke into a smile that came slowly, as if her mind needed time to believe what her eyes were telling her.

“Carla Connor?” 

Carla straightened to her full height, suddenly self-conscious, heat rising at the back of her neck. She hadn’t expected anyone here to notice her, let alone someone she’d once known this well. Her hair was loose, her sweater creased from hours of waiting, her boots scuffed from hospital corridors and rushed travel. Nothing about her felt put together. She hadn’t prepared to see anyone, least of all her.

Lisa Swain stood in front of her as if the years hadn’t touched her, neat and composed. Still five foot three, but her posture filled the space, the crisp uniform adding a kind of authority she hadn’t carried in their youth. Confidence radiated off her now, but her eyes… her eyes softened the longer they rested on Carla.

Neither of them spoke straight away. Carla thought of graduation night, the last time they’d been in the same room—eating junk food, drinking alcohol, and making love together as if it were their last goodbye. No arguments or promises were made to stay in touch. Just separate paths, each pursuing goals they had once shared. She had followed a family tradition and studied medicine, and Lisa had gone into engineering in aviation before taking flying classes to become a pilot. Both of them had reached their goals. Over time, the silence between them had simply become the norm.

Carla nodded, unable to form words immediately. Seeing Lisa for the first time in twenty years had left her momentarily speechless.

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” Lisa said, her voice controlled, though Carla noticed a slight tremor in it.

Carla adjusted the coat on her arm, trying to steady herself. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I mean…” She faltered, her thoughts tangled, unable to form a full sentence.

Lisa smiled gently. “I live in Manchester now,” she said quickly, filling the silence to make it easier for Carla. “Just came back from Spain. Heading home for Christmas.”

Carla nodded, but her chest ached. Twenty years. No messages. No visits. She’d told herself it hadn’t mattered, that they had been young and reckless, that whatever had lingered between them was nothing solid. And yet here Lisa was, solid as the ground beneath her feet.

Lisa glanced around at the terminal crowd before speaking. “Looks like you’ve been here a while.”

Carla nodded. “Flight to Dublin got rerouted here when the storm hit. Everything’s backed up.” She gestured at the restless line of passengers. “It’s a nightmare.”

Lisa gave a short laugh, sympathetic. “They’re swamped.”

Carla forced out a breath. “I’m not wasting my voice yelling. It's pointless.”

Lisa’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Still the calm one in the room, eh?”

The words struck deeper than they should have. Carla raised an eyebrow. “You remember that?”

“I remember a lot.” Lisa smiled.

Carla held her gaze. In that instant, all the lost years pressed in... the parties they’d skipped to study together, the nights spent talking and having sex until morning, the times their hands had brushed but never quite held in public. All of it remained unfinished.

The words lingered, and neither moved to fill the pause. The background noise of the terminal—loudspeaker announcements, footsteps, restless passengers faded in the background as their gazes stayed fixed on each other

Carla broke the silence. “You’re a captain now,” she said finally, her voice even, though her chest felt tight.

Lisa nodded. “Almost fifteen years. Mostly short-haul within Europe—Spain, Amsterdam, Berlin. But I have some long intercontinental ones in two weeks, covering for the holidays: Nairobi, New York, and Johannesburg.”

Carla shifted her coat against her arm. They had both followed their paths, each pursuing their goals. “You’ve done well.”

Lisa studied her face carefully, the way she always had when she thought Carla wasn’t paying attention. “So have you. Surgery, right?”

They had kept tabs on each other quietly over the years, reading about each other’s work in flight magazines and medical journals. It was the only way they had known of each other’s accomplishments, though neither had ever openly acknowledged it.

“Yeah. The Royal London Hospital. Almost nine years now.”

Lisa’s eyes softened. “You always said you’d get there.”

“I did.” The admission came out flat, but beneath it was the fatigue, the effort it had taken to reach their goals, and the cost of it all.

The silence that followed was longer, heavier. Carla wondered if Lisa was remembering the same things, how easy it had been between them once, how it had all unraveled without a single real argument. 

Lisa tilted her head, voice quieter now. “You alright?”

Carla blinked. She wanted to say more, to admit that seeing Lisa had brought back feelings she thought she’d buried. But she defaulted to safety. “Just tired.”

Lisa gave a small nod, as if she understood more than Carla was saying. “Come upstairs with me. The café’s open, quieter than this, with better seating.” She gestured to the metal chair Carla was sitting in.

Carla hesitated. Nearly twenty years had passed. The safe option would have been to keep it polite, exchange pleasantries, and move on. But she felt a pull she couldn’t ignore.

“Alright,” she said.

Lisa stepped aside, turning toward the escalators and dragging her leather carry-on behind her, with Carla following, her large Louis Vuitton overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

Chapter Text

Manchester Airport Café – Present Day

The café was quiet, tucked behind a row of shuttered shops. The air smelled faintly of burnt espresso and disinfectant, the kind of sterile blend unique to airports. A television mounted in the corner played muted news footage while a tired barista wiped down the counter, glancing toward the clock every few minutes.

Carla sat across from Lisa at a small table near the window. Her tea sat untouched in front of her, the surface cooling, but she kept her fingers wrapped around the cup as if the ceramic’s warmth might give her something steady to hold on to. Her coat was folded over the back of her chair, overnight bag resting at her feet.

Lisa had taken off her cap and placed it neatly beside her tray, her carry-on pushed against the side of their table. Her blonde hair was longer than Carla remembered, pulled back loosely so that strands slipped free around her face. Her uniform jacket was unbuttoned at the collar, the white shirt still crisp despite the hours she’d been wearing it. She looked older, yes—they both did—but her posture hadn’t changed. Straight-backed, composed, her gaze as direct as ever. She studied Carla with the same quiet focus she always had, as though she was waiting for her to make the first move.

Carla hadn’t planned to say anything. But the silence pressed until she broke it.

“I haven’t seen you in almost twenty years,” she said. Her voice was low, weighted with regret.

Lisa nodded once. “I know.” Her tone was controlled, but her eyes betrayed something sharper beneath it. She wanted to say more, how badly she had wanted to keep in touch, but she didn’t because Carla refused to.

Carla lowered her eyes to the tea, tracing a finger along the rim of the cup. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither was I.” Lisa’s voice held no trace of accusation. Just a simple fact. That steadiness unsettled Carla more than open anger would have. Anger could be answered. This calmness left her with nothing to push against.

“I missed you so much it hurt whenever I thought about you,” Carla said, almost under her breath. “But I also wished you happiness. I hoped you met someone who made you happy.”

“I did,” Lisa replied, her voice cool. “Thank you.”

Carla’s eyes flicked to Lisa’s left hand, noticing the absence of rings. “Are you married?”

Lisa shook her head, the motion brief. She wasn’t ready to talk about Becky. Not yet.

For a moment, Lisa sat quietly, her fingers tapping once against her cup before she folded her hands together on the table. She had blamed Carla for years. But she also knew she carried her own share of blame in the silence. “I should have come to see you,” she said finally.

Carla lifted her head, puzzled.

Lisa exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “I read your articles in Medical journals. I knew you were at Royal London Hospital. I could have walked into that building any day, but I didn’t. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me." she admitted quietly. "Rejection wasn’t something I could face from you, again.” Her voice dropped as her eyes misted. “So I stayed away.”

Carla shifted in her chair, her gaze drifting toward the window. Snow was falling again outside, wind pushing the flakes across the tarmac. She forced her teary eyes back to Lisa.

“I’m so sorry, Lise.” Her voice cracked slightly. It hurt to think about how much time she had wasted—years spent being afraid of everything. Afraid of what people would think of her queerness. Afraid of letting Lisa all the way in. She had lost decades to fear, and now Lisa had found happiness elsewhere while she was still alone.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Lisa waved it off with a small motion of her hand. “Water under the bridge.”

A Private Boarding High School – Rural Manchester – First Year, 2001

It started with a collision.

Carla was moving quickly through the library, a Nokia 3310 mobile brick pressed to her ear. She was laughing at something her boyfriend had said, her voice too loud for the space. Her eyes weren’t on the path ahead.

At the same time, Lisa was coming from the opposite direction, arms full of textbooks stacked so high she could barely see past them.

They ran straight into each other.

The books spilled across the polished floor with a heavy thud. Carla jumped back, muttered a sharp curse, irritation already rising. She lifted her head, ready to snap, then stopped.

Lisa was already kneeling, collecting the books with quick, precise movements. Her face was composed, but when her eyes flicked up, the sharp green glare made her point without raising her voice.

“Maybe try looking up from your phone,” Lisa said evenly.

Carla stared at her, indignant. “Maybe try not carrying half the fucking library next time.”

Lisa didn’t reply. She stood, stacked the books neatly, brushed off her low-rise jeans, and walked away. Not once did she glance back.

It should have ended there. But Carla found herself glaring after the figure-eight shaped girl as she disappeared around the corner. The indifference gnawed at her pride. She didn’t like being dismissed.

A week later, she walked into a study group and saw Lisa already seated. Carla groaned audibly. Lisa met her reaction with a small, knowing smile, like she had expected nothing less.

Friendship Phase – 2002

Somehow, despite herself, Carla ended up spending more and more time with Lisa.

Lisa was quiet, not shy, but selective in what she said. When she did speak, it was sharp, sometimes dry, often funny in a way that caught Carla off guard. She had a knack for pointing out when Carla was being dramatic, and unlike others, she never seemed intimidated by her.

They started studying together. Weekends turned into dinners off campus. Late-night takeaways became routine, cartons spread across dorm desks while they worked or watched TV. Carla dated boys from the neighboring school but never seriously. Lisa didn’t date at all. Carla noticed, but never asked.

One night, after too much vodka they’d smuggled into the dorm and not nearly enough food, Carla had leaned against Lisa’s shoulder, voice slurred but sincere.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

Lisa laughed, soft and unguarded. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Carla didn’t lift her head. “I mean it.”

The moment stayed with her. The warmth of Lisa’s shoulder, the steadiness of it. The sound of her laugh, unforced and close. Carla remembered it more clearly than she wanted to.

2003–2004 Same Dorm Room

By then they were living together as roommates. Three years of shared space, routines overlapping until separation barely existed. And then things shifted.

They started sharing a bed more often than not. At first it was casual—exams, late nights, comfort. But the closeness became something else. Carla stopped seeing boys altogether. Lisa never asked why.

It was a slow change. A touch on the arm that lingered. A look that stayed longer than it should. Carla started noticing things she hadn’t before—Lisa’s voice when it was just the two of them, the way she moved when she thought no one was watching.

One night, without thinking, Carla kissed her.

They were half-watching a film, the flickering light moving across Lisa’s face. Carla turned, leaned in, and pressed her mouth to Lisa’s. No warning. No explanation.

“Lisa froze for a moment, caught off guard. Then, with a sudden rush of feeling, she kissed her back firmly, without hesitation this time.”

They never spoke about it the next day. Or the day after but it didn’t stop.

Kissing turned into fumbling and then sex. It became regular, private, unspoken. Actions instead of words.

Lisa seemed sure of herself in a way Carla wasn’t. She knew then that she wasn’t ever going to date boys or men after high school.

Carla—Carla still felt attraction to men, but being with Lisa was different. Stronger, more consuming. She didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t have the language for it, and she wasn’t ready to explain what she didn’t fully understand.

Lisa never asked her to. She just stayed, patient, hoping Carla would eventually see her as she saw Carla.

2005 – Sixth Form Graduation

The end came with their last year, after the A levels were done. The relief of finishing exams had barely set in when the letters from universities arrived. Both of them had been waiting for months, each with clear career paths mapped out.

Lisa’s acceptance came first, a thick envelope from the University of Glasgow, her third choice. Aviation engineering. Glasgow wasn’t her top pick, but it was solid, a path she could build on. She held the letter in her hands for a long time before showing Carla.

Carla’s offer came a week later from her first choice—Cambridge, medicine. She had always spoken about it like it was inevitable, but the official confirmation still hit hard. She read it once, folded it carefully, and slid it back into the envelope without much reaction. But inside, she knew exactly what it meant for both of them.

They celebrated, briefly. Dinner with friends, photographs taken outside the school with flowers in their arms, parents shaking hands and smiling. But when it was just the two of them again, the atmosphere shifted.

“Maybe we could still call sometimes,” Lisa said, keeping her tone steady. “Or visit during the holidays. Just… keep in touch, you know?” Her voice stayed calm, but her eyes told a different story ... she wanted Carla to fight for them, even a little.

Carla didn’t. The thought of a long-distance relationship with a woman unsettled her. The thought of explaining them, what they were to anyone outside the small bubble of their shared dorm life made her chest tighten. Cambridge was an entirely different world. She imagined walking into it as someone’s girlfriend, not just anyone’s, but a woman’s. It felt impossible. Not because she didn’t care for Lisa, she did—but because she didn’t know how to carry it beyond those walls.

She shut it down immediately. 

Carla uttered the cruelest thing she could think of. “I can’t wait to date all those hot male doctors once I start my residency.” she said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears.

Lisa’s face didn’t move at first. Just the faintest tightening around her mouth. She nodded once, turned, and began to gather her things. Her hands were quick, efficient, but Carla saw the way her eyes glistened.

“Goodbye, Carla. I wish you all the best in your endeavours.” Her voice was formal, polite, deliberately stripped of anything that might feel like accusation. She didn’t want to make Carla feel worse than she already did.

Then she left.

Carla stayed frozen in place, every muscle locked. She didn’t chase after her. When the door finally closed, her chest constricted, her throat burning. Tears slid down her cheeks, silent, stubborn, too late. She let them come, but she didn’t move.

Something shifted inside her that night. Years later she would understand it had been permanent. No matter who came after—men or women—no one filled the space Lisa had left. The choice had been hers, for both of them, and she carried it like a stone she couldn’t put down.

Back to Present

The café was hushed around them, but the weight of the conversation cut through the background noise. Lisa’s eyes stayed steady, unblinking as she spoke.

“I thought you were just experimenting,” she said quietly. The sadness in her tone wasn’t sharp, not angry, just worn. It carried the weight of all the years they hadn’t had.

Carla’s breath caught. “I know.” She nodded, her hand tightening around her teacup. “I understood later I could never replace you with anyone. Not then, not ever.”

Lisa’s jaw shifted slightly. “Then why did you push me away? You know after that, I believed that I was maybe just a phase for you.”

Carla shook her head quickly, firm. “You weren’t.”

Lisa waited, silent, giving her space to fill it.

Carla lowered her gaze to her hands. “I was so scared, Lisa.”

Lisa’s voice was calm, almost clinical. “Of what?”

“Of what it meant and who I was. Of how much I felt for you.” Carla’s voice wavered before she pressed on. “My parents were very conservative. They are respected GPs in our small town, held in high regard. They raised us to believe in their version of the Bible. Homosexuality wasn’t just frowned upon then, it was treated like something shameful. A sin. That was the air I grew up in.”

Lisa’s expression didn’t shift, but her eyes stayed locked on her. “You never said that.”

“I know.” Carla’s throat tightened. Her voice cracked, but she pushed through, steadying it. “I didn’t know how to put it into words, not even for myself. I couldn’t reconcile what I felt for you with everything I’d been taught at home. I didn’t understand it then. All I knew was that it terrified me.”

Lisa leaned back slightly, processing, then nodded. “I was scared too.”

Carla looked up, surprised.

“Not about religion,” Lisa clarified. “But about how strong my feelings for you were. How strong you were for me. My parents weren’t religious at all and when I eventually told them, it took time for them to come around.  I gave them space and patience and eventually we got there.”

Carla blinked, eyes fixed on her. “You never showed it.”

Lisa gave a small, almost rueful smile. “The scared part?” She let out a quiet breath. “Oh, believe me, I was. When you shut the door and basically said we shouldn’t keep in touch… it pushed me back into the closet in a way. Not literally, but it felt like it. I stayed quiet for years after. Pretended it hadn’t happened, that we hadn’t happened.” Lisa's eyes misted.

Carla’s throat tightened, her eyes damp. “I never stopped thinking about you, Lise.”

Lisa looked down, her hands clasped tightly around her cup. “I know.” She nodded. 

Chapter Text

Manchester Airport Cafe - Present Day

Lisa’s fingers curled around her cup, but she didn’t drink. Her tea had long gone cold. Carla watched her, unsure whether to speak or just listen. Lisa’s face was calm, but her eyes had that distant look—like she was walking through old rooms in her mind.

“I didn’t meet Becky until ten years after uni,” Lisa said finally. “It was a long stretch.”

Carla nodded, slowly. “You dated, though?”

Lisa gave a quiet laugh. “Yeah, a few women but nothing serious. I tried. I think I was looking for something familiar, but no one felt like home.”

Carla’s throat tightened. She didn’t respond.

“There was one woman I lived with for a year,” Lisa continued. “She was kind and funny. But she wanted more than I could give and I was still... stuck.”

“On me,” Carla stated, voice low.

Lisa didn’t deny it. “I didn’t know how to let go of you, not really. I kept thinking maybe I’d misunderstood and that you’d call. Maybe I’d run into you somewhere.”

Carla looked down at her long fingers wrapped tightly around her mug. The tea had gone lukewarm, but she kept holding it anyway, as though it gave her something to focus on. “I should’ve called,” she admitted quietly, her voice steady but edged with regret.

Lisa gave a small shrug, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t owe me that.”

“I did.” Carla’s eyes lifted briefly, then dropped back to the mug. “Even just as a friend. We’d been in each other’s lives for almost five solid years and then I decided to vanish, just like that. It wasn’t fair on you.”

Lisa’s jaw moved slightly, like she might say something, but she stayed silent. She didn’t push, just as she never had before. She sat back in her chair, fingers resting on her cup, eyes steady on Carla, waiting without judgment.

"I met Becky at a CPR training course,” Lisa said, her tone softening a little. “I was already flying full-time for almost seven years by then. She was a pediatric nurse. She made a joke during the demo and I laughed out loud. Got told off by the instructor for disrupting the session.” Lisa smiled faintly, the memory warming her voice. “She just winked at me like it was all part of the plan.”

Carla’s lips curved slightly. “Sounds like the kind of person I’d have pictured you to be with.”

Lisa let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. She was that kind.” Her eyes dropped briefly to the table, the smile lingering but dimming a little. “She was easy to be around. No games. No guessing. I told her everything—about you, about the women before her, about my parents. She didn’t flinch.” Lisa said. "And about Betsy, my now sassy 4 yo." Lisa added with an affectionate smile. 

“You were already pregnant?” Carla asked, her tone carrying a hint of surprise. She remembered how Lisa had always liked kids. They’d talked about it a few times back in high school, but never seriously.

Lisa nodded. “IVF,” she said simply. “I’d decided to do it on my own. I was thirty-four then. I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Carla blinked, absorbing that. “And Becky just... accepted that?”

“She asked if I needed help setting up the crib,” Lisa replied, a small, genuine smile forming. “That’s when I knew she was the one. The one I’d been searching for all this time.”

Carla swallowed hard. Her chest tightened, the old guilt resurfacing. She had no right to feel the way she did after everything. “That’s rare,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. Inside, the thought of what could have been pressed against her ribs like a weight. She and Lisa could have built that life together—pregnancy, parenthood, all of it—if she hadn’t walked away. But she had. And Becky had been there instead.

Lisa’s expression softened, her voice turning gentle. “She was rare,” she said, a wistful smile touching her lips. For a moment, she looked far away, lost in the memory. As brief as their marriage had been, Becky had brought her real happiness—the kind she hadn’t felt since losing Carla. Becky had filled the space that had stayed empty for years, quieting the ache that had settled in her chest since high school. When Becky died, that ache came back twice as strong. She had lost the two women she had ever truly loved, and she wasn’t sure she would ever find that kind of connection again.

There was a long pause between them, filled only by the low hum of the café machines and the soft murmur of distant conversations.

“I proposed when I was seven months pregnant,” Lisa said, a soft laugh escaping her as she recalled the memory. “Becky and the waiter had to pull me up from the floor after I got down on one knee. I could barely move.” The corner of her mouth lifted faintly. “We got married just before Betsy was born. Becky was there for everything—night feeds, colic, first steps. She loved Betsy like she was her own.”

Carla didn’t say anything right away. Something in Lisa’s tone—the way she used the past tense—made her chest tighten. She could see the shift in Lisa’s expression, the way her eyes glossed over as she spoke.

“She died in a car accident when Betsy was two,” Lisa said, her voice cracking as a tear slipped down her cheek. “It was raining. A lorry lost control. She was coming home from a night shift.”

Carla’s breath hitched. “Lisa…” she whispered, moving quickly to sit beside her. She wrapped her arms around Lisa, holding her close while the pilot’s quiet sobs filled the small corner of the café. Carla rubbed her hands up and down her back, firm but gentle, the motion steady and grounding.

After a moment, Lisa sat back and wiped at her eyes, taking a shaky breath. She untangled herself from Carla’s embrace and shook her head slightly. “I don’t talk about it much,” she said quietly. “People get uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not people,” Carla said, her voice low but certain. Her eyes were glassy, her hand still resting on Lisa’s back, moving in slow, careful circles.

Lisa looked at her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. “No,” she said softly. “You’re not.”

"I wish I was there for you, even just as a friend. I'm so sorry." Carla’s voice trembled slightly, her own tears sliding down her cheeks.

There was a long silence. Carla’s hand rested on her tea cup, tightening around it as she waited, unsure if she should say more or give Lisa space.

Lisa nodded slowly, accepting the gesture of comfort even if it didn’t undo decades apart. “My parents weren’t speaking to me when I came out after uni,” she said, shifting slightly in her chair. She let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Took them two years to come around and admit they’d been stubborn and daft about the whole situation. When Becky came along, we were fortunately at a good place by then. They met her and fell in love with her instantly. When she died, they begged me to move in with them to help with Betsy.”

Carla nodded, absorbing it all. “I’m glad for you and Betsy that you had Becky and your parents around. At least Becky met people who accepted her. And I’m sure she knew she was loved by all of you.”

Lisa brushed a tear from her cheek, her lips pressing together briefly. “Yeah. Thanks.” She leaned back in her chair, letting her shoulders relax for the first time in a while. “I fly less now. Mostly short trips because I want to be home for my little girl. She’s four now. It feels like she’s growing up fast. She’s obsessed with stuffed animals as her patients. She’s in her doctor phase. She’d be thrilled to meet a real doctor,” she added with a small smile. She paused for a moment, then let out a soft laugh. “And she also thinks I’m a superhero because I fly planes.”

Carla smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting naturally. “She sounds like my kind of girl. We doctors just vibe with each other on sight,” she said, a light chuckle following. “I’d really love to meet her someday, Lise, if you’ll let me. And you—you kind of are. A superhero, I mean.” She added a playful wink.

Lisa’s cheeks tinged pink. “She’d definitely like you right away. But fair warning, she’ll probably recruit you immediately to be a doctor in her stuffed animal clinic.” A small, approving smile spread across her face, softening her features. She shrugged lightly. “She doesn’t know how tired I am most days when she insists on me being her assistant in the clinic after my shifts. In her world, tired doesn’t exist—unless it’s her nap time.” She chuckled, resting her hands lightly on the table.

Carla laughed, imagining the whirlwind of a tiny version of Lisa bossing her pilot mum around. “And I’d be the best doctor assistant to Dr. Swain any day,” she said with a wide smile.

Her mind drifted for a moment to the reality of Lisa’s work. The constant strain of guiding a plane full of passengers, each life in her hands, the split-second decisions, the endless coordination and focus, everything a pilot had to manage. It wasn’t that her own job of operating on patients was any less intense, but the scale of responsibility, the unpredictability, the isolation in the sky—it was different. Having hundreds of people depending on you all at once, with no room for error, carried a weight few could understand.

“You don’t look tired,” Carla said, her tone softer now, attempting to ease the tension between them.

Lisa met her gaze steadily. “That’s because I’ve had practice.”

-----

The café hummed quietly around them—footsteps on linoleum, the hiss of the espresso machine, the occasional muted announcement over the PA—but it all felt distant, like they were in their own small world.

Lisa rested her hands lightly on the table, fingers tapping once before stilling. Her eyes met Carla’s, steady but touched with fatigue and memory.

“You handle everything so smoothly,” Carla said finally, her voice low. “Flying, Betsy, everything. I can’t imagine doing it all.” She paused, thinking of the endless nights she’d spent in the hospital, the strain of responsibility, the quiet exhaustion that came with saving lives. “And yet you make it look… manageable.”

Lisa gave a small shrug, a faint, tired smile on her lips. “Manageable isn’t the same as easy. Some days are just long. But my parents help a lot—they’ve been incredible since Becky passed. We’ve lived together ever since the accident. They take care of Betsy when I’m flying, and when I get home, there’s always a hot meal waiting. Mum does the school runs; Dad reads her bedtime stories. I don’t think I could’ve done any of it alone.”

Carla nodded, her eyes softening. “You’ve done an incredible job, Lise. Really. Betsy’s lucky to have you—and your parents.”

Lisa looked down briefly, her hand tightening slightly around her cup. “It’s exhausting sometimes. I don’t even notice it until I finally sit down. Then it hits me how tired I am.” She let out a short, weary laugh. “But it’s worth it. Every bit of it.”

Carla smiled faintly, her voice gentle. “I can see that.”

Lisa met her gaze again, her eyes warm despite the exhaustion. “She’s the reason I keep going. I lost a lot when Becky died, but Betsy gave me something back. A purpose. And my parents—they’ve helped me keep that going.”

Carla’s expression softened further, admiration in her eyes. “You’ve built something strong out of everything you went through, Lise.”

Lisa exhaled slowly. “I had to.”

Chapter Text

Carla’s Journey – What She Never Said

Carla hadn’t spoken for a while. The café had grown quieter, the earlier rush of travellers thinning until only a few people were scattered across the tables. The steady noise of rolling luggage, muted conversations, and the hiss of the espresso machine had faded into a dull background hum. Lisa didn’t push her to talk. She stayed where she was, sitting upright, her hands folded loosely around her cup. It was the same kind of steady presence she had always offered, even years ago.

Carla’s fingers moved against the side of her mug before she finally spoke. “I didn’t date seriously at or after uni.” Her thumb rubbed at a dried drop of tea on the rim, it was a nervous habit Lisa knew too well.

Lisa looked up, her brows drawing together slightly. “Really?” She couldn't hide the surprise in her tone.

Carla nodded once, eyes lowering to her drink. “I tried,” she said, glancing up briefly at Lisa before looking down again, her thumb still busy. “A few men and women here and there, but nothing really stuck.”

Lisa stayed quiet, but the small shift in her face, the way her lips pressed together and her gaze softened; showed she was listening closely.

“I told myself I was too busy,” Carla continued after a pause. “Med school, residency, then surgery. It demanded all my time and energy. It was easy to hide behind that.”

Lisa’s voice came out low and steady. “You were always good at disappearing into the books when we were in school,” she said quietly.

Carla gave a faint smile without humour. “It’s easier than facing yourself.” Her thumb traced the edge of her cup again; the small, repetitive motion revealing how tense she was.

For a moment she stayed like that, shoulders slightly hunched, before she drew in a careful breath. “I didn’t know what I was in high school, Lise. And I think, to some extent, I didn’t really want to know. I kept thinking about what I said to you that day... about dating the hot surgeons. I said it like a joke, but it wasn’t funny. It was cruel.” Her voice cracked slightly before she added, “I wanted to keep you at a distance, and that was the only way I knew how.”

Lisa didn’t interrupt. Her hands stayed still on the table, palms down, eyes fixed on Carla.

“I was scared,” Carla said. Her tone was plain, almost drained of emotion. “Not of you but of me. Of what I felt in here.” She pressed her hand lightly to her chest. “Of what it meant that I loved you.”

Lisa’s eyes softened. Her reply was quiet but clear. “You loved me?” The surprise in her voice was genuine. She had known what she felt back then, but never imagined Carla had felt the same.

Carla nodded. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t even know how to think it. I grew up in a house where being gay was whispered about, frowned upon, even demonised. It wasn’t something that happened to people like us Connors. I didn’t want to be that. I didn’t want to be different and ostracised by my own family.”

Lisa’s voice stayed even. “You were never just experimenting?”

“No,” Carla said firmly, shaking her head. “You were the first person who made me feel like myself, safe. And I threw that away because I couldn’t face what it meant.” Her hands tightened around the cup, knuckles turning white.

She looked up, her eyes clear but tense. “I buried you,” she said. “Not literally. But emotionally. I boxed you up and shoved you to the back of my mind. Every time I started seeing someone, I compared them to you. Every time I felt something real, I shut it down immediately.” She stopped for a moment, her throat tightening before she continued.

Lisa didn’t move. She kept her gaze steady, giving Carla the space to finish.

“I became good at being alone,” Carla said. “I told myself I didn’t need anyone and that I was better off. But I wasn’t. I was just scared. A coward too afraid to face my own feelings.” She let out a quiet breath, her shoulders lowering slightly as the words left her.

Silence hung between them for a few seconds, the noise of the café faint in the background.

When Carla spoke again, her voice was softer. “When I looked up and saw you standing there, it didn’t hit me all at once.” She glanced up, meeting Lisa’s gaze. “It was slow. My brain couldn’t catch up with my eyes. The uniform, the way you stood, your face… it all came back piece by piece.”

Lisa’s voice was quiet but steady. “I used to wonder if you ever thought about me.”

“I did,” Carla said. “All the time. Maybe more than I wanted to.” She paused briefly. “Whenever friends joked about ‘the one that got away,’ my mind always went to you. No one else ever came to mind. Not once. It was always you.”

Lisa gave a small nod, swallowing hard. “I thought I was the only one holding on.”

“You weren’t.” Carla’s reply came without hesitation this time, her eyes holding Lisa’s.

The quiet stretched again, this time heavier but calmer. Lisa looked down, then back up at her. Her voice was softer now, almost unsure.
“I used to picture running into you somewhere… airports, conferences, even random cafés like this. I told myself if it ever happened, I’d walk up to you, say hi, and feel nothing.” She gave a small, tired smile. “That didn’t happen.”

Carla’s eyes flickered with emotion she didn’t try to hide. “Me neither,” she said quietly. “Guess some things don’t fade the way we hope they would.”

Lisa nodded slowly. “I thought I’d be angry. Well... I was, for a long time. Then life happened… it just moved on. Work then Becky and Betsy came along. I didn’t have time to stay angry anymore.” She paused, her tone steady but filled with quiet honesty. “But hearing you say all that now… it makes a lot of things make sense.”

Carla watched her carefully, unsure what to say next. Lisa’s expression softened a little more, a faint calm settling in her features.

“I’m not saying it fixes everything,” Lisa said quietly. “But it helps to finally know your side of the story.”

Carla nodded, her voice low. “That’s all I ever wanted, for you to know.” She hesitated, then added, “I wish I’d been more open back then, about everything. What I was dealing with. But we were both young, still trying to figure ourselves out.”

Chapter Text

The café had almost emptied out. Only a few passengers remained scattered around, their suitcases tucked under chairs, waiting out delays or lost in their phones. The overhead lights hummed faintly, casting a soft glow over the tables. Outside, snow drifted past the wide glass windows, steady and quiet.

Carla sat back in her chair, fingers still curled around her mug even though the tea had gone cold. Her posture was tight — not defensive, just uncertain. She stared at the cup for a moment longer before finally looking up.

Lisa hadn’t moved much since their conversation started. She sat across from her, relaxed but attentive, her elbows lightly on the table and her hands wrapped around her own drink. Every so often, her eyes would flick to Carla’s face, searching, patient, giving her room to find her words.

“I don’t know what I expected, seeing you again,” Carla said quietly, almost to herself. Her hands were resting on the table, fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. She wasn’t really looking at Lisa at first, just staring down at the dark surface of her drink before forcing herself to meet her eyes.

Lisa met her eyes. “Me neither.” Her tone was calm, but there was something measured in it — not cold, just careful. She held Carla’s gaze without flinching, even when the silence between them stretched a little too long.

Carla nodded once, exhaling slowly. “I thought maybe I’d feel… guilt or regret. But it’s more than that.” Her thumb brushed against the handle of the cup, turning it slightly, as if she needed to keep her hands busy.

Lisa didn’t answer right away. She waited, giving her space, her posture relaxed but attentive. Her hand rested loosely on the table, not far from Carla’s, but not close enough to touch.

“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for years,” Carla admitted, her voice uneven. “And now I don’t know what to do with the air.” Her words came out on a shaky exhale, the kind that carried years of things she’d never said.

Lisa’s tone softened. “You don’t have to do anything.” She tilted her head slightly, studying Carla’s face, trying to gauge how much of this was about the past and how much was about now.

Carla shook her head slightly, almost frustrated with herself. “That’s the thing, I want to.” She let out a quiet sigh and sat back, her shoulders tightening for a moment before she made herself relax again.

Lisa leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, studying her more closely. “Why now?”

Carla’s shoulders dropped. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care. Of pretending I didn’t care back then.” She looked up as she said it, her expression clear and steady. It wasn’t a plea, just the truth laid out plainly between them.

Lisa’s expression didn’t change much, but something in her eyes did — a flicker of understanding, a small shift that softened her face. “You did care. I knew that. Even when you said what you said.”

“It was cowardice,” Carla said. Her voice was steady now, stripped of any defence. “I was afraid.” She looked away briefly, then back at Lisa again, almost as if she wanted to see whether the words landed or bounced off.

Lisa nodded once, not surprised. “I know.” Her voice was even, but her eyes gave her away there was no anger there, just quiet acceptance.

For a moment, neither spoke. The low murmur of the café filled the silence... the hum of conversations around them, the clink of cups, the sound of someone laughing somewhere nearby, a distant announcement over the terminal speakers. But at their table, everything stayed still.

“I used to think I was the only one who remembered,” Lisa said after a beat. “The way we were and how it felt.”
She spoke quietly, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup as if the motion steadied her.

Carla looked up quickly. “You weren’t,” she said. “I remembered everything. The way you made me laugh when I was stressed. The way you made space for me without asking for anything back and how you looked at me like I was someone worth knowing.”
Her voice stayed steady, but there was a faint tremor behind it — the kind that comes from finally saying something long held in.

Lisa’s throat tightened slightly. She swallowed before answering.

“I didn’t know how to be with you,” Carla continued. “Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how to be honest with myself.”

Lisa’s reply came softly. “You were scared.”

Carla nodded in acknowledgement. “I was, and still am.”
She gave a faint, unsteady laugh, more out of nerves than amusement.

Lisa gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving Carla’s. “I get that.”

The air between them felt heavier now, but not uncomfortable. Just real. Years of silence settling into something they could both finally look at. The sounds of the café hummed around them — a coffee grinder somewhere in the back, footsteps passing, the clink of cutlery — but it all felt distant.

Carla hesitated before asking, “Do you hate me?”

Lisa blinked at that, a bit thrown. “No,” she said, steady. “I never did. Not even when I was angry with you, I could never bring myself to hate you, Carla.”

Carla let out a breath that seemed to loosen her whole frame. Her shoulders lowered, and she gave a small, tired nod.

“I thought about reaching out,” she said. “So many times. But I didn’t know what I’d say. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me.” She paused, her fingers rubbing absently at the edge of her cup. “I have a confession to make. Just like you, I used to read flight magazines from the British International Airline just to catch a glimpse of you. I came across one when I was flying to New York for a conference a few years ago and after that, I could never stop myself from getting a hold of their latest issues.”

Lisa was surprised at first, then her gaze softened again. “Wow! I didn’t know that. But back to your wondering, I would’ve loved to hear from you,” she said quietly. “Even if it hurt.”

Carla looked down, turning the cup slowly in her hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you again.”

Lisa’s voice carried more strength this time, though it stayed gentle. “That’s the thing, Carla, you don’t get to decide that for me.”

Carla nodded, accepting that. “I know.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t sharp like before. It was calmer, filled with understanding. A kind of stillness that felt earned.

Lisa glanced toward the window, then back at her. “I’m not asking for anything, Carla. I have a life. A daughter who keeps me on my toes. A rhythm. But I’m here, and I’m listening.”

Carla’s eyes stayed on her. “I don’t know what I want,” she said slowly. “I just know I don’t want to walk away again without saying the truth.”

Lisa gave a small nod. “Then say it.”

Carla’s voice lowered, but her words were clear. “I loved you, Lise. I still do. I don’t know what that means now, but it’s real.”

Lisa didn’t look shocked. She didn’t smile either. She just held her gaze, breathing steadily, letting the words land.

“I loved you too,” she said. “And I never stopped wondering what might’ve happened if we’d kept in touch after high school.”

Carla’s throat tightened. “I’m not asking for a second chance. I’m just asking if we can talk. Maybe not tonight or even soon. But sometime.”

Lisa studied her for a long moment — not deciding, just taking her in. Finally, she gave a slow nod.

“Okay,” she said simply. “We are talking, but yeah. I would love to do that more.”

Carla’s lips lifted slightly — not quite a smile, but something close. The kind of expression that comes from a weight easing off, even if only a little.

Lisa shifted slightly in her seat, resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands together. The warmth of her cup seeped into her palms, grounding her. She let herself simply sit with Carla, the conversation lingering unspoken at times, letting the silence stretch without forcing it to be filled. Her shoulders relaxed fractionally, the tension of long years away from this person slowly easing in small increments.

Carla stayed where she was, fingers lightly curled around her mug. She noticed the faint lines forming around Lisa’s eyes from years of laughter and stress, the subtle lift of her brows when she relaxed, and the way her lips curved ever so slightly when she let herself be at ease. Carla’s gaze lingered on her, taking in the details she hadn’t had the courage to notice before — the steadiness in her posture, the quiet confidence that had always been there, even when they were younger. It grounded Carla in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Neither spoke for a while. The quiet felt companionable, a mutual acknowledgment of the time lost and the burdens they had each carried alone. Carla finally leaned forward slightly, resting her forearms on the table so that her presence felt close but not intrusive.

“You know,” Carla said softly, breaking the silence, “I don’t think I realized how much I missed this. You. Talking. Even just sitting here.” She kept her voice low, careful, as though she were testing the water, gauging how much she could say without unsettling the fragile ease of the moment.

Lisa’s lips lifted in a small, tired smile, and she tilted her head just slightly. “I didn’t either,” she admitted. “I didn’t know I was still holding onto… well, us.” She folded her hands a little tighter around her cup, the warmth a small comfort.

Carla chuckled quietly, a low, relieved sound that loosened her shoulders just a fraction. “Guess we’re both a little stubborn.”

Lisa laughed, soft and easy, a sound that seemed to release a little of the tension from the air around them. “That we are.”

A pause stretched as they watched the snow drifting outside the café window. The world outside was muffled under the thick white blanket, giving their small corner a sense of privacy. Carla’s gaze didn’t wander; she kept it steady on Lisa, noting the small shifts in her posture, the tiny gestures — a finger brushing her mug’s rim, a slight tilt of her head, the way she adjusted her seat.

“How’s Betsy? I mean… I know she’s four now, but I feel like I should’ve asked more about her earlier,” Carla said softly, her voice careful, attentive.

“She’s a busy post-toddler happily cosplaying a doctor,” Lisa said, a fond smile spreading across her face. “She’s obsessed with her stuffed animals as patients. Most days, she makes me her nurse or her doctor—depends on the day. And somehow, she’s convinced I can fix absolutely everything, no matter what it is.”

Carla laughed, a quiet, warm sound. “I can see it. She sounds like she has your energy… and your stubbornness too.” Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as she imagined the tiny whirlwind of a girl running her makeshift clinic at home.

Lisa rolled her eyes playfully, the movement subtle but full of affection. “And she doesn’t care how tired I am. Half the time I’m running on fumes, and she insists I help her operate on Mr. Bunny or Dr. Teddy. My parents help a lot, of course, but she’s relentless. She schedules me like I’m on her hospital rota.” Her shoulders lifted slightly, a half shrug that carried both exasperation and fondness.

“You’re like a superhero in her eyes, then,” Carla said lightly, teasing, her lips curving in a small, affectionate smile.

Lisa’s cheeks tinged pink. She looked down briefly before meeting Carla’s gaze again. “Apparently so. Though sometimes I wonder how long she’ll keep that opinion when she finds out her superhero mom gets grumpy before breakfast.”

Carla smiled, leaning back slightly but still watching Lisa carefully, appreciating the small honesty in the words. “I think she’d forgive you. You sound like a great mom.”

Lisa’s gaze softened, her shoulders relaxing a little more. “Thanks, Carla. That… that means a lot.” She exhaled quietly, a soft sound that seemed to release some of the tension she’d been holding.

Carla noted the subtle changes: the way Lisa’s fingers loosened around the mug, the way her posture softened just enough to show she was listening, the small inclinations of her head that acknowledged Carla’s presence without words.

“I’ve missed this,” Carla said quietly. “Us being able to talk… like this. Without all the fear, without everything else in the way.”

Lisa nodded, her hands moving to cradle the cup more securely. “Me too. I wasn’t sure we’d ever get a chance to just… sit and talk.”

Another pause stretched between them. The café around them had quieted, the last few travelers moving through the space like distant shapes, leaving their corner more intimate.

Carla drew in a slow breath, her gaze lowering briefly before she met Lisa’s eyes again. “Back then, I didn’t realize how much fear controlled everything I did,” she said quietly. “I thought I’d outgrown that, but… I still am, just in a different way now.”

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug before continuing. There was no point holding anything back anymore; they weren’t teenagers hiding from the truth. “My fear isn’t about rejection or being cast out by my family and their religious expectations anymore. I got past that years ago, when they finally accepted... well, tolerated that I dated both men and women. That kind of fear doesn’t bother me now.” She paused, steadying her breath. “What does scare me is rejection from you.”

Lisa’s eyes stayed on hers, clear and unwavering. “I get that,” she said softly, the words simple but weighted.

The silence that followed wasn’t cold. It carried a strange calm—years of distance folding into something more honest, something they could finally face without turning away.

“Feels like we’ve covered twenty years in just a few hours,” Carla added finally, her voice low but steady. A small, wry smile tugged at her lips.

Lisa returned a faint, approving smile, letting the words settle between them. Her fingers brushed lightly against Carla’s across the table, a subtle gesture full of acknowledgment and connection.

Carla glanced toward the counter. “Want to get another drink? Tea, coffee… maybe something stronger?”

Lisa nodded, a small laugh escaping her. “Yeah. I think we both could use one.” She stood, brushing slightly against Carla as she did, and touched Carla’s arm lightly. “Let me get it. I also can’t drive home, I’ll have to take an Uber or taxi home instead.”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t think the offer of a stronger drink through,” Carla said, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“No harm done,” Lisa replied, adjusting her coat around her shoulders. “It’s a reason for me not to drive in this weather anyway. I’m too tired. I’ll get Dad to send one of his mates to get the car later.” She glanced back at Carla with a grin. “What do you fancy? Wine? Whisky? Vodka? Some fruity cocktail maybe?”

Carla’s eyes followed her, appreciating the easy confidence in Lisa’s movement. “I’ll come with you,” she said, nodding toward the small airport bar a few steps away.

They rose together, each gathering their things. Their movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if reacquainting themselves not just with the space, but with the subtle rhythm of being near each other again. Carla noticed the slight shift in Lisa’s posture, the way she carried herself now as a mother, a professional, yet still with the familiar steadiness she had always known.

The café’s quiet hum continued around them — the muted conversations, footsteps, and distant clatter of cups now felt like background, not interference. They moved side by side, careful and measured, their presence next to each other comfortable, familiar, but still new.

Lisa glanced at Carla with a grin, and Carla returned it, letting herself relax into the moment. For the first time in years, it didn’t feel like they were walking away from something. It felt like they were walking toward it.

Chapter Text

For the first time in years, it didn’t feel like they were walking away from something. It felt like they were walking toward it.....

They stopped outside the airport bar, the kind of place that pretended to be cozy, with dim lighting and a half-hearted garland strung along the mirror. The low hum of late travelers, the dull clink of glasses, and a few stray laughs drifted from the counter. It was quieter here, detached from the noise of the terminal.

Carla pushed open the door. “Still open,” she murmured.

Lisa followed her in, scanning the quiet space. “Barely. But most of these places in the terminal run twenty-four seven. Planes don’t stop coming or going, so neither do the bars.”

They found a booth near the window overlooking the tarmac, where the snow had started to fall heavier, smudging the runway lights into a hazy blur. The air inside was warm, the faint hum of soft music mixing with the low chatter of the few people still lingering around.

The bartender, a tired looking man wiping down glasses behind the counter gave them a brief nod as they settled in.

“Two?” he asked, his eyes flicking between them briefly before turning to grab the menu.

“Yes, two,” Lisa replied, glancing toward Carla. “White wine?”

Carla shook her head lightly. “Whiskey. Neat.” She needed something she could actually feel.

Lisa chuckled, her lips curving in quiet amusement. “Of course,” she said, remembering their vodka-smuggling days back in the dorms.

Their drinks arrived without much ceremony. Conversation around them dropped to a low background hum. Carla held her glass, the warmth seeping slowly into her hands. Lisa’s fingers rested near hers on the table, close enough that Carla could feel the space between them.

Outside, the snow blanketed the tarmac. The terminal lights had dimmed, casting a soft yellow glow across the bar. Carla checked the time on her phone. It was late, the kind of late where the day felt suspended, as if everything had paused just long enough for them to sit in this pocket of quiet.

Lisa checked her watch, then looked up. “I should head home soon. My parents are waiting, and my little troublemaker is probably asleep by now.”

Carla nodded, a wave of loneliness passing through her. “Of course.”

Lisa hesitated before speaking again. “They’ve got a guest room. If you don’t want to deal with the hotel chaos.”

She’d planned to offer that olive branch the moment she saw Carla, but seeing the sadness flicker across her face made it feel even more necessary. The truth was, she wanted to keep her near even if neither of them had said it aloud. On the inside, Lisa was quietly exhilarated. It felt unreal that she’d taken a route she almost never used when leaving the terminal, and there Carla was as if fate had nudged her toward Gate 14 on purpose.

Carla blinked. “You’re offering me a place to stay?”

Lisa shrugged, casual but steady. “It’s Christmas, and you’re stranded, Carla. And it’s been... a long time.” She paused, then added with a small smile, “My parents remember you, you know. Mum asked about you a while back... said she always liked you. She called you my best friend and roommate from school.”

Carla looked down at her hands, her thumb tracing the rim of her glass. Then she turned back toward the window, watching the snow drift past the glass, catching bits of light from the runway. The quiet pressed in gently, making it easier to hear the thoughts she usually avoided.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to fit into Lisa’s world, she just wasn’t sure she belonged there anymore. It felt like stepping into a life she could have had but walked away from. Did Lisa’s parents still talk about her because they remembered the friendship fondly, or because they wondered why it ended? Would they look at her now and see the woman who’d hurt their daughter by disappearing without explanation? And if they did accept her, was she enough after all these years to be part of that world again?

“I don’t know if I’d fit into your world,” she said quietly.

Lisa leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It’s not about fitting in,” she said gently. She had no idea that Carla’s words came from pure insecurity, not reluctance. “It’s just a warm house, a quiet night, and a kid who’ll probably ask you a hundred questions about being a doctor.”

Carla smiled faintly. “She sounds curious.” She didn’t add how much she wanted to belong there, how much she wanted Lisa to see her differently, not as a guest, but as someone who might one day matter again.

“She’s relentless,” Lisa said with a quiet laugh. “But she’s good at making people feel welcome.”

Carla studied her. “And you?” She already knew Lisa could be warm when she wanted to be, she’d shown it since the moment she’d approached her at the crowded terminal gate. What Carla really wanted was reassurance. To hear that she was forgiven. That maybe, one day, the past could just be something they’d both lived through.

Lisa met her eyes. “I don’t know what this is, Carla.”

Carla’s stomach sank. She looked down at her glass, now almost empty.

“I’m not trying to figure it out tonight,” Lisa went on. “I’m just saying... you don’t have to be alone.”

Carla swallowed hard. She’d spent years telling herself that solitude meant control, that not needing anyone was a kind of strength. Sitting here with Lisa, she wasn’t sure that was true anymore.

“I don’t want to make things complicated,” Carla said, her voice quiet.

Lisa chuckled softly. “You’re not. It’s not like I’m taking you home as my girlfriend or fiancée. You’re an old friend, and we’re just... reconnecting.”

Carla nodded, trying to hide the flicker of disappointment that came with the word friend. She wished it were more. But she knew it was too soon — they needed time, conversation, maybe forgiveness before anything else. “Okay,” she said finally.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Okay?” She could tell Carla said it half-heartedly.

“I’ll come,” Carla said. “Just for the night.” She didn’t want to risk expecting more.

Lisa smiled, subtle but sincere, just enough to reach her eyes.

They stood, gathering their coats and bags. Carla slid her arms into her sleeves and buttoned the top slowly. Lisa pulled on her cap and held the door open for her.

They walked side by side through the quiet terminal, past the half-empty gates and the faint echo of closing announcements. Their steps fell into the same rhythm again easy, unspoken and familiar.

Outside, the snow was still falling. Lisa led the way to her car, and Carla followed.

“Are you sure you can drive?” Carla asked, a trace of concern in her voice. Lisa looked a little tired, though she hadn’t had much of her wine.

“Yeah,” Lisa said with quiet confidence. “I figured I’d need my car, and the weather’s only going to get worse tomorrow. Better to take it now while the roads are still manageable. Dad’s mate fitted winter tires before I left for the trip—he’s always on top of those things after a forecast like this.”

Carla gave a small nod, reassured by the practical tone. “Good thinking.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “And honestly, sitting with you for the past couple of hours kind of reset me. I feel fine. Barely touched the wine anyway.”

Carla nodded again, satisfied. She trusted Lisa to mean what she said. A person who flew hundreds of passengers safely through storms and turbulence was someone she could trust behind a wheel in the snow.

At the parking lot reserved for airline staff, they placed their luggage in a Jeep Wrangler Sport 2-Door 4WD. A stereotypical lesbian car, Carla never pictured Lisa driving something like this. She’d always imagined her as the classic-car type, maybe a vintage Mercedes or one of those sleek sedans that fit her polished, soft-spoken side. But this was different. Tough. Practical. Controlled. And seeing it now, seeing Lisa behind the wheel, stirred something in Carla she wasn’t fully ready to name.

She pushed the thought down, tried to rein in the heat creeping through her, but it lingered at the edges of her awareness. She wasn’t sure how much leeway she’d get from Lisa, or how far she could let herself go, but the pull was there, undeniable. Her pulse quickened, just slightly, and she realized she was aware of every subtle movement Lisa made, every gesture that said she was steady, capable, untouchable in her own way.

Lisa glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and Carla caught herself staring, lost for a moment in the familiar certainty of her presence. She felt a flicker of longing not just for the friendship, not just for the comfort of being near Lisa again, but for the person she had once adored and wanted so completely.

Finally, she shook her head, exhaling quietly, as if releasing the thoughts she didn’t yet have the right to voice. She slid into the passenger seat, letting the warmth of the car and the steady presence of Lisa fill the space between them.

There were no promises nor grand declarations for now but for the first time in years, she didn’t want to pull away. The feelings of longing she had buried so long ago, the curiosity and attraction, were all rushing back at once.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The drive to the Swain home was quiet. It wasn’t the awkward kind of silence that begged for conversation, but a measured stillness, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Carla watched the snow drift past the window, her fingers lightly tapping against the glass, the light of the terminal fading behind them. Lisa drove with one hand on the wheel, her posture relaxed but alert, eyes occasionally flicking to the road or the side mirrors. Every now and then, she exhaled slowly, as if shaking off the tension of the past few hours.

When they pulled into the driveway, the porch light was already on, casting a soft glow over the fresh snow. Carla took in the tidy, welcoming exterior of the house, the small wreath on the door, the sound of the wind brushing against the eaves.

Inside, Glenda and David Swain were waiting. Glenda opened the door before Lisa had even reached it, arms folded, cardigan wrapped tight around her shoulders.

“There you are, love,” she said, pulling Lisa into a hug. “We were starting to think you’d been rerouted to the North Pole.”

Lisa laughed softly, shaking her head. “Almost, Mum.”

David appeared behind her, mug in hand, eyes bright. “Hello, pumpkin. Glad you got home safe. And who do we have here?” After side hugging Lisa and leaving a kiss on top of her head, his gaze swept over Carla, curious, registering her slowly.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Glenda said, her expression softening. She studied Carla’s face for a moment, then smiled. “You’re Carla, aren’t you? From high school? I remember those cheekbones from the old pictures with this one here.” She glanced at Lisa, then stepped forward to pull Carla into a warm hug. “We asked about you, but this one either didn’t know where you were or just didn’t want to tell us.”

Carla returned the embrace cautiously at first, then relaxed into it. “Yes. It’s been a long time.”

Her eyes flicked to Lisa, understanding instantly why she’d avoided talking about her.

Glenda’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “You used to be around this one a lot whenever we visited her at school. And when we came to your dorm room, you always had your nose in a textbook,” she said, chuckling softly at the memory.

Carla smiled, letting out a quiet laugh. “That sounds about right.” She’d always been focused in her school work even when she was also seeking out fun, she knew what she wanted in life and studied hard for it.

“Well, come in,” Glenda said, stepping aside. “You must be tired.” The older Swain woman ushered them into the warm bowels of the Swains’ minimalist mansion.

Lisa’s childhood house was spacious and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of central heating and a faint scent of cinnamon. Carla slipped off her coat and followed Lisa into the living room. Photos lined the walls—Lisa in her pilot uniform, Becky smiling beside Betsy's first birthday cake, little Betsy in various stages of toddler chaos. Carla’s gaze lingered on each image, tracing the outlines of a family life she’d never been part of.

“The stuffed animal village GP went to bed about an hour ago,” Glenda said with a laugh as she settled into her armchair. “She was asking when you’d get home.”

Lisa’s shoulders tightened, guilt flickering briefly across her face. “I wanted to be here earlier.”

Both her parents seemed to understand what went unsaid, likely because she’d run into Carla.

“You’re here now, pumpkin,” David said kindly. “And you’ve got two whole weeks off. She’ll be thrilled.”

Carla sat on the edge of the sofa, taking the cup of tea David handed her.
“Thank you, sir,” she murmured as she settled beside Lisa.

“My name’s David, love ... not sir,” he teased.

Carla smiled shyly. “Sorry. Thank you, David.” It felt strange calling Lisa’s dad by his first name; she couldn’t imagine ever doing that with her own.

“So,” Glenda said, her tone polite but curious, “what do you do now, love?”

“I’m a surgeon,” Carla replied. “I work at the Royal London Hospital.”

Glenda’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “A surgeon? That’s impressive, dear. You both were destined for greatness and you worked hard to get there.” She included her daughter’s accomplishments too, proud of Lisa’s path from engineering in aviation to flight school to become a pilot.

David nodded, impressed. “That explains the textbooks in your dorm room. You two were always the bookworms, no wonder you got on like a house on fire.”

Carla smiled faintly. “It’s been a long road, but we both got there.” She glanced at Lisa, who smiled back.

“Do you have children?” Glenda asked, genuinely curious, not unkind. "Marriage?"

Carla shook her head. “No to both. My career took up most of my time, and I never really made space for that.” She didn’t regret that decision, she knew she still had time, if she ever chose to have a child or two. Not too long though.

Glenda tilted her head thoughtfully. “You’re still young. If you wanted to, you could.”

Carla glanced at Lisa, then back at Glenda. “I suppose that’s true.”

David chuckled. “You and Lisa are the same age, aren’t you?”

“Just about,” Carla said. “I turn forty right after New Year.”

“Lisa’s in May,” Glenda added. “So you were at university together? Or just high school?”

“Just high school,” Carla said. “Then I went off to Cambridge for medical school.”

Glenda smiled. “Well, it’s lovely seeing old friends reconnect. Especially over Christmas time, it’s a magical time to reflect, forgive and maybe even start over again.” She had a feeling, from Lisa’s quietness, that there was more to the story than met the eye. She maybe now she understood why her daughter had always avoided talking about Carla.

Lisa caught Carla’s eye briefly, a subtle look of reassurance, then looked away.

The conversation drifted from work to Betsy, to the weather, to small updates about mutual acquaintances. Carla found herself relaxing more than she expected. The Swains were warm and welcoming, patient in their hospitality, giving her space to breathe without asking too much.

After Glenda reheated the lasagna for both Lisa and Carla, the two ate in companionable silence for a while, each absorbed in the simple comfort of a late dinner.

“Your mum is a great cook,” Carla said, swallowing a big bite of lasagna.

Lisa laughed. “She can be excessive with the feeding. You have to set boundaries, or she’ll fatten you up in no time once she knows you like her food.”

Carla laughed, imagining Glenda constantly serving her meals and insisting she eat even when she wasn’t hungry. “She sounds like the mum I missed out on growing up,” she said softly, a trace of sadness in her tone.

As much as she loved her family, the Swains’ warmth was something she’d never experienced at home. Both her parents were doctors who cared deeply for their patients, but their compassion rarely extended to their own children. She and her brothers had grown close — perhaps as a way to fill the emotional gaps their parents left. They’d had everything, often in excess, except affection. It was the nannies who filled that void.

Lisa looked up, catching the shadow in Carla’s expression. “I’m so sorry, Carla. You never really talked about your family back in high school.”

“Yeah,” Carla said quietly. “That’s one of the reasons. My older brother Rob, my younger brother Aidan, and I were practically raised by nannies. Our parents were there, but never really present. Don’t get me wrong, we had everything we wanted — except their love.”

“That’s… sad,” Lisa said honestly. The pieces were starting to fit. She’d never met the Connors in all their years of friendship. And when they did appear briefly, Carla had always avoided introductions. Now she understood why. “Well,” she added, smiling gently, “you’re welcome to share in the excessive Swain pampering. It’s suffocating sometimes, but I secretly love it. Just don’t tell them that.”

Carla snorted, glancing toward the living room where David and Glenda were playfully teasing each other on the sofa as they watched TV. “They’re adorable. Like newlyweds.”

Lisa glanced over too, shaking her head. “They’re sickening sometimes,” she said fondly.

Later, Lisa led Carla to the guest room. She paused at the doorway, resting her hands lightly on the frame. “You okay?” she asked, her gaze meeting Carla’s deep green eyes.

Carla nodded. “Your parents are lovely.”

Lisa smiled. “They like you too,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. Her mum had cornered her earlier in the kitchen and whispered, ‘She looks like a lovely woman. I wouldn’t mind her becoming my daughter-in-law, love.’

Carla smiled, exhaling softly. “I wasn’t sure what this would feel like.”

Lisa leaned against the doorframe, eyes steady. “Me neither.”

Carla hesitated, then said gently, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

Lisa’s voice was warm, reassuring but without expectation. “You’re welcome,” she said with a genuine, bright smile. She was glad that Carla felt at ease in her home. “Just one more person to meet tomorrow,” she added with a soft laugh. “Hope she doesn’t scare you off — she’s small, but somehow, she runs this household.” Her smile deepened. “My parents are entirely to blame for that, of course.”

Carla looked around the room, the neatly made double bed, two bedside lamps casting soft amber light, the quiet hum of the heater and felt an unfamiliar sense of peace. This wasn’t about promises or rushing into anything. For the first time in years, she could simply be, with Lisa nearby, and let the night settle where it would.

Chapter Text

Morning with Betsy – Carla’s Checkup Duty

The house was already awake when Carla came downstairs. She could hear low voices from the kitchen and the clink of cutlery against ceramic. The scent of pancakes, bacon and eggs drifted through the hallway, grounding her in the unfamiliar comfort of someone else’s home.

She stepped into the kitchen, where Lisa was pouring coffee and Glenda was flipping pancakes. David sat at the table reading the paper, glasses perched low on his nose.

“Morning,” Carla said, her voice still rough from sleep.

“Morning, love. How did you sleep?” Glenda asked, smiling warmly at their guest.

“I slept well, thank you. I was in surgery for about thirty-six hours back-to-back before my flight. I needed to cover a few shifts before taking some time off for Christmas.”

“That must be hard,” David said, setting the newspaper down. “Working those kinds of hours.”

“It can be,” Carla admitted. “When the hospital’s busy, it’s non-stop. But if we’re lucky, we get short breaks between cases.”

“Wow. I can’t even imagine what the emergency room looks like at The Royal London,” Glenda said, removing the pan from the stove. “It must be absolute chaos.”

Lisa looked up from the counter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I bet it’s busy twenty-four seven.” She gestured to the empty chair where Carla’s coffee waited. “Have a seat. You’re just in time for another shift... Betsy’s about to start her rounds, and I have a feeling you’re the one who's on the rota today.”

Carla blinked, a little confused. “Rounds? You mean—”

Lisa smirked. “You’ll see. I’m off-duty this morning, though. Perks of having a real doctor in the house.”

Before anyone could elaborate, a burst of tiny footsteps pattered down the hall, skidding to a stop in the kitchen. A whirlwind of curls and energy appeared in the doorway. The little girl was clutching a stuffed rabbit in one hand and a plastic stethoscope in the other. Her bright blue eyes widened at the sight of a stranger in the kitchen.

She hesitated for a moment, studying Carla closely, then took a cautious step forward.

“You’re the doctor,” she said with quiet certainty, pointing straight at her.

Carla, now fully awake from the four-year-old’s serious tone, crouched to her level. “I am,” she said with a small smile, extending a hand. “I’m Carla. And you must be Doctor Swain?”

Betsy straightened her shoulders. “A real doctor?” she asked skeptically. “And yes, I’m a doctor for stuffed animals. Betsy Swain.”

Carla smiled. “Well, it’s nice to meet a fellow doctor. Yes love, I’m a real doctor. I go by Dr. Connor, at the hospital.”

Lisa raised an amused eyebrow, watching her daughter hold her ground. Carla couldn’t help but be impressed by the child’s vocabulary and composure.

Glenda leaned in to whisper, “She’s been up since seven, waiting for you.”

Lisa sighed, half smiling. “We had to stop her from knocking on your door. She was ready to call you in for early rounds.”

Betsy looked instantly guilty, glancing between them. “Sorry, Mummy,” she mumbled.

Lisa gave her a soft look. “It’s alright. Just don’t wake guests next time, okay?”

Betsy nodded seriously, then climbed up on a chair, placing Rabbit and Bear neatly on the table like patients waiting for their turn.

“I already checked them,” she said, adjusting her stethoscope. “But I need a real doctor to confirm.”

Carla set her coffee aside and took the seat opposite her. “What seems to be the problem?” she asked, accepting the bright pink stethoscope from the young girl.

“Rabbit has a tummy ache,” Betsy explained matter-of-factly. “And Bear has a pretend cough. Still, it’s serious.”

Carla nodded thoughtfully as she slipped the toy stethoscope into her ears. “I see. Have they had breakfast yet?”

Betsy’s curls bounced as she nodded. “Rabbit had carrots, and Bear had imaginary porridge.”

“Good choices,” Carla said, keeping a straight face. “Any allergies I should know about?”

“Rabbit’s allergic to broccoli,” Betsy replied promptly. “But Bear’s fine. He eats everything.”

Carla pressed the stethoscope gently against Rabbit’s belly. “Hmm. I think Rabbit might’ve eaten too fast.”

“I told him not to,” Betsy sighed, shaking her head at her patient’s lack of self-control.

“Classic case,” Carla said with mock seriousness. “He needs rest and a warm blanket.”

She turned to Bear. “Let’s check those lungs.” She placed the stethoscope on the plush toy’s chest, then leaned back and gave a decisive nod. “Definitely pretend. But I think he’s just tired. Maybe some honey and a nap should do it.”

Betsy nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I said. But Mum said no honey before breakfast,” she said, throwing her mother a mildly accusing look.

Lisa chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I stand by what I said, young lady.”

“That’s Doctor Betsy Swain to you, Lisa,” Carla corrected with a grin.

Lisa smirked. “I stand corrected, Doctor Swain.”

Carla handed back the stethoscope. “You’re a very good doctor, Betsy.”

“I want to be a doctor and a pilot. Like super Mum and you,” the little girl declared with full conviction.

Carla nodded with an adoring smile. “That’s a great plan, love. And I bet you’ll be the best at both.” She leaned in and ruffled Betsy’s curls.

Glenda placed a plate of pancakes in front of Betsy. “She’s been diagnosing her toys since she was two. Becky used to play along too,” she said with a fond smile, stepping back as Betsy leaned comfortably against Carla’s side.

Carla glanced up at Lisa, who gave a small confirming nod.

“She’s got Becky’s imagination,” Lisa said softly. “And my stubbornness.” She chuckled. “She picked up hospital lingo from Becky and, for some reason, never forgot it since she was two.”

Carla grinned. “Wow. Some of us go to medical school for nearly a decade to learn that kind of lingo—and Dr. Swain here just picks it up naturally.” She ran her fingers gently through the little girl’s hair.

Across the table, David had been watching the whole exchange quietly. He leaned slightly toward his daughter, lowering his voice. “She’s a natural with Betsy, love,” he murmured, giving Lisa a discreet wink that said more than words could.

Betsy tugged on Carla’s sleeve. “Will you help me later? I have more patients upstairs. Dollie’s got a rash, and Penguin might have a broken wing.”

Carla didn’t hesitate. “Of course, honey. I’d love to,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Betsy’s head before she even realized it.

She had never been called maternal before, never even thought of herself that way but something about Betsy softened her. The little girl was having an unexpected effect on her. She was already half in love with this mini version of Lisa, from her energy to those striking sea-blue eyes—a perfect match with her granddad’s. Lisa and Glenda shared the same vivid green eyes, flecked with yellow near the iris, but Betsy and David’s eyes were that unmistakable clear blue.

Betsy grinned and dug into her pancakes, already planning her next clinic session.

Lisa leaned over and said quietly, “You handled that well.”

Carla took a sip of coffee. “I’ve had tougher consults,” she murmured, accepting a plate of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon from Mama Swain. “Thank you, Glenda, but this is a lot of food.” She looked down at the plate of three pancakes, a heap of scrambled eggs, and enough bacon for two. “I can’t honestly finish this,” she said, laughing softly.

“Eat, darling. Whatever you can handle,” Glenda insisted, waving her off.

Carla smiled, noticing how fit Glenda looked for someone who clearly loved cooking and feeding others. She had to admit—if this woman ate half as much as she served, she had excellent genes.

“I have the kind of genes where if I put all this down, I’ll be blowing up like a balloon in no time,” Carla said with a chuckle. “I try to watch what I eat—especially when I have to run up and down stairs at the hospital when the lifts are full.”

Lisa grinned. “Mum would fatten you in no time if you didn’t stand up for yourself.”

Glenda shot her daughter a mock glare. “That’s not true. I just love when people enjoy what I make.”

“I love your cooking, darling,” David said, catching his wife by the waist as she passed him. He pulled her gently onto his lap and kissed her cheek, making her blush and swat at him playfully.

“I actually love this,” Carla said sincerely. “You’re the best home cook I’ve ever met. My mum isn’t much of a kitchen person... I don’t remember eating anything she ever made herself.” A flash of sadness crossed her face. “This is great. Thank you.”

David and Glenda exchanged a glance, both sensing the weight in her tone but choosing not to pry. Whatever that story was, it was hers to share when she was ready.

“Well, any time you want a home-cooked meal, darling, you know where to find us,” Glenda said warmly, giving Carla’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as she passed by.

After breakfast, with Carla insisting on helping load the dishwasher alongside Lisa, they returned to the living room where an impatient Betsy was already waiting.

Betsy tugged on Carla’s hand. “You said you’d help me with the rest of my patients!” she announced, clutching Bear and Rabbit under her arms.

Lisa leaned in and whispered near Carla’s ear, glancing at her daughter. “I’m so glad I brought you back last night. I actually get some time off,” she snorted softly, amused. Then, with a gentler tone, “She likes you.”

Carla looked over at Betsy, who was spoon-feeding Rabbit imaginary medicine with full concentration. “She’s easy to like,” Carla said, ruffling the little girl’s curls. “Okay, munchkin, let’s go!” She scooped Betsy up, earning a squeal of laughter before setting her back down.

Lisa chuckled softly. “She’ll soak it all in. Having a real doctor around is a big deal to her, she’s been waiting all morning. But please, don’t feel obligated.” She gave Carla a knowing look being mindful of the doctor. “She can be a handful sometimes. Just say the word if you need a break.”

Carla shook her head, smiling. “I don’t have kids, and to be honest, I never really gave it much thought. But she’s seriously changing my mind. I’m enjoying every minute of this, Lise. Honestly.”

Lisa’s expression softened at the quiet sincerity in Carla’s voice.

Meanwhile, Betsy was already pulling her toward the stairs.

Betsy led the way up, her small feet thudding lightly on the carpeted steps. The door to her room was covered in stickers—stars, hearts, and a crooked drawing of a plane. Carla followed and paused in the doorway. The room was bright and crowded with colour: a Smurfs mural ran along one wall and the bedspread matched.

Toys filled every corner. Stuffed animals perched on shelves, dolls sat in tiny chairs, and a toy doctor’s kit was spread open on the floor like the tools for a make-believe clinic.

“This is my hospital,” Betsy announced, sweeping a hand toward a large dollhouse. “You’re the visiting specialist.”

Carla crouched down to Betsy’s level and smiled. “Happy to consult, Doctor Swain. Where do we start?”

Betsy handed her a cardboard clipboard and a crayon. “You have to write down the diagnoses.”

Carla took the clipboard, settled herself on the floor, and said, “Alright. Who’s first in line, Doctor Swain?”

“Mr. Penguin. He fell off the shelf last night. I think he broke his wing.” Betsy got into her role easily, serious and businesslike.

Carla examined the plush penguin, pressing its flipper and turning it gently. “I think it’s a sprain,” she said after a moment. “Rest and maybe a tiny sling.”

Betsy watched her closely. “I’ll make one with ribbon,” she decided, already thinking ahead.

Next came Dollie, whose face was covered in red marker dots.

“Chickenpox,” Carla declared, tapping the cardboard. “Contagious. Needs quarantine and cartoons.”

Betsy gasped with the right level of alarm. “I’ll move her to the dollhouse!”

Carla fought a smile and kept her voice steady. She worked through the cases with the same attention she would give a real patient — asking the right questions, making quick judgements, explaining the plan in simple terms Betsy could understand.

They went on: Monkey with a sore throat, Unicorn with a headache, Elephant who was “feeling sad.” Carla wrote each diagnosis in uneven crayon letters and paused when Betsy had follow-up questions. She didn’t rush. She listened, answered, and let Betsy lead where the play went.

When the last toy was tucked in, Betsy grabbed a book from the shelf and climbed onto her bed. “Will you read this one?” she asked, her voice small and tired. Carla noticed how heavy her eyelids were—she was almost ready for her late morning nap.

Carla sat on the edge of the bed and took the book. “Of course, darling.” It was about a girl who wanted to be everything—an astronaut, a chef, a dancer, a doctor. Before Carla could open it, Betsy wordlessly climbed onto her lap and curled into her arms, thumb in her mouth, eyes fixed on the page.

Carla wasn’t prepared for the sudden closeness, but she adjusted quickly, holding Betsy against her chest and beginning to read. Her voice was calm, steady, and easy to follow.

In the doorway, Lisa stood quietly, unnoticed. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t look away. Betsy rarely let anyone in so completely, and yet here she was, settling into Carla’s lap as if she belonged there. Carla wasn’t performing. She wasn’t awkward. She fit.

Lisa lingered, taking it all in. Quietly, she felt something shift. Carla fit into this house, this rhythm and into Betsy’s world. Hopefully in time into hers too.

Carla turned a page and glanced down at Betsy, who was now half-asleep, still clutching Rabbit. A warmth spread through her chest—unexpected, but real. She thought about what Glenda had said the night before: that she wasn’t too old to start a family. She had never allowed herself to consider it before, but sitting here beside this child with her curls and endless questions, the idea landed quietly.

Betsy slept mid sentence, thumb in her mouth, hand still holding the toy.

Carla didn’t move. She leaned down and kissed Betsy’s curls, letting her lips linger briefly on the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of shampoo. Then she simply sat there, letting the quiet settle, letting the thought take shape.

If Lisa ever asked, if there were ever space for it, maybe she could belong here. Not just as a guest, but as something more.

“Hey.” Lisa whispered, finally making her presence known.

“Hey,” Carla replied softly. “She’s asleep.”

“I know,” Lisa said, stepping closer and motioning to take Betsy and lay her down.

“I can do it,” Carla whispered, standing and handing Lisa the book. She slowly laid Betsy on her Smurfette bed, placed Rabbit gently in her arms, and pulled the Smurfette duvet over her.

Carla straightened and stepped back, taking a quiet moment to look around the room. The bright colors, the scattered toys, the little bed tucked under the mural—it all felt alive, familiar in a way she hadn’t expected. She realized she felt grounded here, like she belonged, even if just for a moment.

Lisa stood beside her, silent, watching Carla’s expression. Their eyes met, and there was an unspoken understanding: this space, this morning, had shifted something between them.

Carla let out a soft breath and smiled faintly. “She’s really something,” she whispered, careful not to disturb the little girl’s sleep.

Lisa’s grin was quiet, knowing. “Yeah. And you fit here with her too,” she said, squeezing Carla’s hand. “My whole family,” she added after a moment.

They both felt that familiar jolt of connection between them when their hands came together, a spark that had never faded, even across decades. They were still connected in a way no one else ever had been.

Carla nodded, letting the weight and ease of that thought settle around her. For now, that was enough. She carried the quiet warmth with her as she followed Lisa back toward the stairs, ready for whatever the day might bring.

Outside, snow drifted lightly against the windows, and inside, the house hummed with a calm, steady rhythm. For Carla, for the first time in a long while, that rhythm felt like it could be hers too.

Chapter Text

The news came just after lunch. Lisa checked her phone, frowned, and quietly handed it to Carla.

All flights local and international were still grounded indefinitely as storms continued to rage that part of Britain. No clear timeline nor alternatives were offered.

Carla stared at the screen for a long moment, then passed it back without a word. She felt the weight settle in her chest—not panic, not frustration. Just a quiet resignation.

She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. She’d have to postpone seeing Michelle and young Ryan this Christmas. Their plans would be pushed into the new year, everything reshuffled again. She knew without a doubt that her best friend Michelle would understand, as she always did. But Carla hated letting people down—especially the ones who mattered most. Ryan and Michelle were like the family she had missed out on.

Yes, she still visited her parents whenever they were in Knutsford, Cheshire, their small village where they had grown up, at least every three months. But lately, her parents were mostly traveling the world after retiring from their physician positions. Spain was their usual base whenever they took a break from touring, a stationary anchor in a life otherwise constantly in motion.

Still, as she sat in the Swains’ living room, watching Glenda fold laundry while David fixed a loose kitchen cabinet hinge, something unexpected crept in.

A sense of relief and calm washed over her. It used to be a fleeting feeling, one that never stayed long enough to hold on to. But now, it felt grounded—real, steady in a way she hadn’t known in years.

She was here with Lisa and Betsy, whom she hadn’t known existed before yesterday—a version of Lisa who had quietly stirred something deep inside her. And a little girl who had crashed into her heart whether it was ready or not, leaving her loving every second of it. She was in a house that smelled like cinnamon and laundry detergent. A house where people asked how she slept and handed her tea or coffee without needing instructions.

She felt more at home in this five-bedroom working-class house than she ever had in her sleek, silent London condo—or even her parents’ manor, the one she’d grown up in. Her condo had everything: vast space, soft lighting, expensive furniture. But it lacked warmth. No laughter echoing down the hall, no small feet skidding across the floor.

“Wanna take a walk with us?” Lisa asked, catching Carla’s attention from where she was watching a cooking show with Glenda. “I’m taking this one out to burn off some of that puppy energy before dinner.”

Betsy was already bundled in her puffy coat, currently waging a losing battle with her hat.

“It’s askew—let me fix it, baby,” Lisa offered gently.

“I can do it!” Betsy insisted, yanking the hat tighter until it sat even more crooked. Then came the gloves. “I want this one and this one.” She pointed at one puffy glove with a stitched cartoon and another woollen Frozen glove.

Carla burst out laughing, unable to help herself. Betsy joined in immediately, giggling with her.

Lisa shot the doctor a mock glare for encouraging her daughter’s defiance. When their eyes met, Carla instantly clamped her mouth shut, throwing her hands up in surrender.

“Got it,” she mimed, zipping her lips and tossing the invisible key away.

Lisa turned back to Betsy, who’d gone suddenly quiet now that Carla had stopped laughing. The little girl knew exactly how far to push her mum’s buttons—and right now, her mum didn’t look like she was in a joking mood.

“Only Carla can do it,” Betsy declared when Lisa tried to fix her hat again after helping her into her mismatched gloves.

Lisa exhaled, glancing at Carla with a look that said please, just help before I lose the will to live.

Betsy ran straight to the doctor. “Can you help me with my hat, Dr. Connor?”

“Oh, we’re going formal now, are we?” Carla teased, reaching out to tickle her through her puffy jacket. Betsy squealed with laughter.

“Let’s see…” Carla adjusted the hat until it sat neatly. “There we go, missy. Ready?” she asked, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the girl’s cheek.

“Ready!” Betsy announced jubilantly before bolting toward the door.

Lisa followed quickly, catching her before she could fling it open and dash outside. Carla smiled, pulling on her boots and joining them, stepping out into the crisp, winter air.

----

The snow had thickened, blanketing the streets in soft white. The park was quiet, only a few families scattered around—children shrieking with joy as they slid down icy slopes and chased each other through the powder.

Betsy ran ahead, arms outstretched, rolling onto the snow-covered ground with abandon. She tried climbing the jungle gym, slipped, laughed, and tried again—determined as ever.

Carla stood beside Lisa, watching her.

“She’s fearless,” Carla said.

Lisa smiled. “My parents say it’s payback. Apparently, I was worse.” She chuckled. “I used to climb anything and everything. Mum said she should’ve realized then—me refusing to wear cute dresses and acting like a tomboy was a sign I wasn’t straight at all.”

They both laughed at that.

“So, tomboy, eh?” Carla teased, a twinkle in her eye. “I’d never have guessed. Not from the time we practically crashed into each other in high school. You weren’t exactly the tomboy type then. You were more feminine than I was.”

“Don’t let the confusing teenage years fool you,” Lisa replied. “Underneath all the makeup and the skirts, I was still a tomboy.”
Her gaze shifted just in time to see Betsy leap from the older kids’ monkey bars—far higher than she should’ve dared. “Ugh… she’s really not built for the faint of heart,” Lisa sighed, watching her daughter land on her bum and burst into laughter.

They fell into a companionable silence, watching Betsy attempt to convince another child that Rabbit needed a turn on the slide.

“Is she actually going to talk him into that?” Lisa asked, amused.

“My money’s on Betsy,” Carla whispered. They watched, transfixed, as the boy finally stepped aside, allowing Betsy to push her stuffed rabbit down the slide before following it herself.

Both women snorted.

“She really is something,” Carla said in awe. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she could convince any of these kids to do whatever she wanted.”

“She has people skills,” Lisa replied dryly.

Carla’s thoughts drifted to Michelle and Ryan, to the postponed holiday, to how long she’d let things slip through her fingers. Yet as she looked back at Lisa and Betsy, the park, the falling snow, the way her breath misted in the air she didn’t feel stranded.

She felt… placed. More fitting than she had in a long time.

Her mind wandered to what Glenda and David had said: she wasn’t too old. She could still have children if she wanted to. She hadn’t let herself imagine it before, but now watching Betsy laugh, tumble, and talk to her rabbit as if it were a real patient the thought lodged quietly in her chest.

What would a child of her own look like at this age? Would they have her eyes? Her stubborn streak? Would they ask her to read stories and check on their toys?

She glanced at Lisa, who was watching Betsy with the kind of smile that softened everything.

Lisa’s thoughts were drifting too. She hadn’t expected Carla to fit so easily into their rhythm. She hadn’t expected Betsy to adore her so quickly. But now, watching Carla’s quiet laughter, Lisa felt something shift.

Carla fit.

Not just into the house but into their lives and into the small chaos of parenting, of story time and spilled cocoa and bedtime negotiations.

Lisa wondered, really wondered, what it would mean if Carla stayed. Not just for the weekend. Not just until the flights resumed.

But longer.

Neither of them said a word. They just stood side by side, watching a little girl roll through the snow and climb toward the sky.

-----

Moments later, it was time to head back home. The cold was creeping deeper now, and Lisa was starting to lose feeling in her fingers even through her gloves.

Betsy was halfway up the slide again, cheeks flushed bright pink from the chill, her breath puffing in short clouds as she climbed with the same determination she’d had for the past hour. Her hat had slipped sideways again, one mitten missing, and her laughter echoed through the nearly empty park.

Lisa rubbed her arms and called out, voice raised over the sound of children and wind. “Betsy! Time to wrap it up, kiddo. We’ve been out here long enough.” She blew into her gloved hands and stomped her boots against the ground, trying to bring some warmth back to her toes.

“In a minute!” Betsy shouted back without even turning around, waving a mittened hand as she prepared for another climb.

Lisa let out a slow exhale and muttered, “That’s her favorite line. And I honestly don’t like it, because ‘a minute’ turns into half an hour—and then an hour later I’m still standing here freezing.”

Carla, standing beside her, smiled. There was warmth behind her eyes, the kind that came from watching something simple and happy unfold. She looked from Betsy to Lisa—one bursting with energy, the other holding herself together with the patience only a parent could manage. “Let me try my magic, Captain Swain,” she said, adjusting her scarf with a small grin.

Lisa turned to her, brow raised. “Please do not bribe her.” She caught that familiar spark in Carla’s eyes—the playful glint that usually meant trouble. “I don’t do that.”

Carla’s smirk deepened. “Of course not,” she said, but the way her voice dropped made Lisa instantly suspicious. Carla cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “Bets! Come down, darling, and I’ll buy you the biggest hot chocolate they’ve got… with extra marshmallows!”

Lisa spun around so fast her ponytail whipped across her shoulder. “Carla Connor!” she hissed, half laughing, half scolding. “That’s literally bribery!”

Carla shrugged, completely unbothered. “Motivational incentive isn’t exactly bribery,” she said, straight-faced, like she was making a professional argument.

Lisa gave her a long, unamused look, but Betsy was already halfway down the slide, practically tumbling in excitement. She landed in a heap of snow, giggled, then shot up like a spring. “You said hot chocolate, right? With extra-extra marshmallows—and the cream?”

Carla crouched down as Betsy barreled into her. “I did,” she said, smiling softly as she straightened the little girl’s scarf and tugged her hat back into place. “But only if you promise not to make your mum chase you halfway across the park next time, deal?”

“Deal!” Betsy said, holding out her gloved hand solemnly like she was signing a contract.

Carla took it, shaking with exaggerated seriousness. “Done.”

Lisa was watching them, arms folded, but there was no real irritation left in her expression. Only that mix of exhaustion and affection parents wore when they’d already lost the battle but couldn’t help smiling anyway. “You’re going to spoil her rotten,” she said, her voice softening around the edges.

Carla stood, brushing snow from her knees. “Maybe,” she said lightly, grinning as she zipped her coat. “But I’m aiming for happy rotten.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Admit it,” Carla teased as they started walking toward the café, “you just didn’t think of it first.”

Lisa tucked her chin deeper into her scarf. “Mm-hmm. I’ll just tell myself she ran down because of me.”

Ahead of them, Betsy skipped along the path, holding Rabbit under one arm and dragging her small boots through the snow. She turned and called over her shoulder, “Nope! Because of Carla’s hot chocolate!”

Lisa groaned dramatically, pressing a gloved hand to her forehead. “Great. Now I’ve lost all authority.”

Carla laughed, the sound bright and full, cutting through the cold air. Lisa looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Her cheeks were red from the cold, her breath visible in soft puffs, and there was something easy and open in her face that made Lisa’s chest tighten for a second.

As they walked, Betsy skipped ahead, humming to herself, already dreaming of the promised hot chocolate. Lisa and Carla followed behind in step—quiet for a moment, both aware of the comfort settling between them that didn’t need explaining.

---

The café was tucked at the corner of the park, its fogged windows glowing gold against the late afternoon grey. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of coffee, chocolate, and baked pastries. The moment they stepped in, their boots squeaked against the floor, melting snow pooling beneath them.

Betsy was first to announce herself. “Hot chocolate! Three, please!” she called toward the counter, earning a few smiles from other customers.

Carla leaned down and ruffled her curls. “Looks like someone’s bossing the café too,” she said, tickling Betsy lightly. The little girl squealed with laughter.

Lisa shook her head. “She's becoming you every minute you two are around each other,” she muttered to Carla, peeling off her gloves and scarf.

Carla grinned as she brushed snow from her shoulders. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They found a booth near the window. The heater hummed softly beside them, filling the silence with an easy comfort. Carla slid in first, Betsy followed, and Lisa sat across from them, undoing the top button of her coat. The little girl’s cheeks were still flushed, eyes sparkling with excitement.

When the waitress came, Betsy jumped in before anyone else could speak. “One big hot chocolate with extra-extra marshmallows and cream! And two teas for my mummy and Dr. Connor,” she declared, pointing at the adults with all the confidence her tiny frame could manage.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate with marshmallows as well,” Carla added, smiling up at the waitress.

Betsy clapped her hands, clearly delighted that Carla was getting the same treat.

Lisa shook her head, sliding off her coat. “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger already,” she said quietly, more amused than annoyed. “I see now what I was up against this morning.” Lisa looked up at the waitress with a warm smile. “Make mine a latte, please,” Lisa said with a quiet laugh.

As the drinks arrived, the table filled with warmth and color rich brown mugs, steam curling up into the air, whipped cream piled high and starting to melt. Betsy wasted no time digging in, sipping so eagerly that a blob of cream stuck to her nose.

Carla reached across the table and wiped away a bit of chocolate from Betsy’s chin with a napkin, her expression soft. “You’ve got to slow down, kiddo, or you’ll get lost in those marshmallows.”

Betsy giggled, a little snort escaping her. “They’re so yummy!”

Lisa laughed into her coffee. “You said it, sweetheart.”

Carla looked up from her mug, catching Lisa’s eyes over the rim. There was that tiny flicker again; something unspoken, warm, maybe even familiar. A moment suspended between them before Betsy’s chatter filled the space again.

“Dr. Connor, when you go back to London, can you come visit again?” Betsy asked suddenly, her small hand resting on Carla’s sleeve.

Carla froze for a heartbeat. “You want me to?” she asked, her voice softer now.

Betsy nodded. “Yeah. You can sleep in the guest room. And I can show you my drawing book.”

Lisa’s eyes flicked between them. She didn’t say anything, but there was something thoughtful in her gaze, something that made her chest feel heavier and lighter all at once.

Carla reached out and gently squeezed Betsy’s hand. “I’d love that,” she said, meaning it more than she expected.

Betsy grinned, satisfied, and went back to chasing marshmallows with her spoon.

For a while, they just sat there. The three of them talking about Betsy’s favorite cartoons and school friends, Lisa’s flight schedules, Carla’s stories from med school and hospital. The kind of small, ordinary talk that somehow didn’t feel ordinary at all.

Outside, snow still fell, steady and quiet, the world soft and muted through the café’s windows. Inside, their laughter blended with the low hum of other conversations, the clinking of mugs and cutlery, the faint tune playing from the old speaker near the counter.

Carla leaned back, fingers wrapped around her mug, and watched Lisa coax Betsy into eating the last few bites of her muffin. It hit her again—that feeling of belonging, of warmth, of being exactly where she was meant to be, even if just for now.

She didn’t think about the grounded flights or the postponed plans. She didn’t think about the empty condo waiting for her back in London. All she thought about was this... Lisa’s quiet smile, Betsy’s sticky fingers reaching for another marshmallow, the sound of soft laughter over coffee.

Later, as they stepped back out into the cold, Lisa pulled Betsy’s hat snug over her ears while Carla adjusted her own gloves. Betsy reached up and grabbed both their hands, one on each side, swinging them back and forth as they walked.

For a moment, they just looked at each other; Carla and Lisa, wordlessly, the air between them calm and full of something that didn’t need naming.

Lisa broke the silence first, her breath visible in the frosty air. “Thanks for the bribe,” she said, voice light.

Carla smiled. “Anytime, Captain.”

They walked on, snow crunching beneath their boots, until the café disappeared behind them and the streetlights began to glow.

Chapter Text

Michelle picked up on the second ring, balancing her phone between her shoulder and cheek as she dished some fries and five slices of pizza onto Ryan’s plate. The fifteen-year-old was already motioning for more, fork in hand like he was preparing for battle.

“Do you need to go see a doctor or something?” Michelle asked, staring at him in disbelief. “That’s two potions of fries and five pieces of a large pizza already!”

“I’m guessing you aren’t talking to me, are ya?” came Carla’s amused voice through the line.

“Sorry, darling, give me a moment before I switch the phone to FaceTime.” Michelle sighed. “And by the way, your godson is bankrupting me with food bills, Carla. I need to send him back to London.” She mock complained. 

Carla laughed. “He’d love that, wouldn’t he? All the freedom he’d have while I worked night shifts at the surgery.”

“Exactly,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes. “He’d be out every night eating overpriced burgers and pretending he’s a local.”

Ryan looked up, mouth full. “I am a London local, me.” He answered grinning.

Michelle ignored him. “So what’s the latest? You still stuck?” Michelle asked quickly switching the phone to Facetime mode.

Carla’s voice softened. “Yeah, flights are grounded indefinitely. I sent you that message yesterday, but now it looks like I won’t be able to come until after New Year.” She said with a sad sigh.

Michelle sighed. “That’s a shame. Ryan was looking forward to seeing you and so was I.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Carla actually felt like crying. On one side, she was so glad she got rerouted to Manchester and met with Lisa after all these years, and on the other hand, she felt totally crushed for not seeing her best friend and nephew after a whole three months. The extreme weather was now both a curse and a blessing at the same time.

“Don’t be. You’re safe, right?” Michelle could feel the sadness in Carla's tone and wanted to reassure her.

Carla hesitated. “I am. I’m with Lisa.” She didn’t want to elaborate.

Michelle’s eyes widened in disbelief, her tone shifting. “Lisa? The Lisa Swain? Your dorm roomie Swain?” she screeched into the phone. “The tiny, gorgeous blonde? Lisa Swain?” It was like she couldn’t believe it.

Carla tried to shake her head, silently signaling Michelle to tone it down. Lisa was just in the next room. She gave a subtle glance toward Lisa, making it clear with her eyes that Michelle shouldn’t say anything embarrassing.

Flashback....

Carla had shared her regrets after she went into Cambridge Uni about how she had broken Lisa's heart, and now she regretted letting the blonde go. Carla had been sad on the phone with Michelle that time when the brunette had poured out her heart about how she was in love with Lisa but scared of how her religious parents would react if they knew she was queer. Michelle had encouraged Carla to pursue Lisa and ask her for forgiveness, but Carla was crippled with her fear of disappointing her conservative parents. So, she had let it go, but then Carla could never really date or settle with anyone after that, during her university years, and even after she finally became a doctor. Michelle once asked her what that was about, noting she was dating all these gorgeous men and women but none seemed to stick around for long, as she wasn’t really interested in them. Carla had confessed she was still stuck on Lisa Swain and couldn’t get her out of her mind.

“Find her, Carla.” Michelle had encouraged after one of those drunken nights on the phone with Carla crying. This was the time when Carla had completed her residency and was now in surgery full time.

“I can’t, Chelle. She might be married and happy with someone else. I don’t want to disrupt her life after all these years.” Carla had cried on the phone.

“What if she is not? What was she studying anyway? I’ll look her up.” Michelle offered.

“No! Don’t!” Carla had insisted vehemently. “I don’t deserve her.”

Little did they know then that Lisa was also still thinking about Carla, and her dating history wasn’t any good either. But then she met Becky a few years after that.

Present..

“Yeah. Long story. I’ll tell you everything when I see you.”

Michelle chuckled. “You better. And bring wine.”

“Deal.” Carla smiled indulgently at her friend on the phone. “I love you, and tell Ryan to behave, and I love him too.”

“Love you too, Auntie C.” Ryan boomed from across the room on the other end.

Michelle rolled her eyes. Just then, Lisa appeared in the frame.

Lisa walked in just in time before Carla ended the call.

“Wait!” she said quickly, reaching out her hand. “Let me speak to Michelle for a second.”

Carla handed her the phone without question. Lisa had met Michelle a long time ago, back in high school. Michelle didn’t attend the same boarding school as Carla and Lisa, but she often came to visit during holidays or on visiting days. Lisa had always suspected Michelle sometimes skipped school just to spend more time with Carla. The three of them would hang around in hers and Carla’s dorm room, laughing, drinking, sharing snacks, and ignoring the rules. More than once, Carla and Lisa had sneaked Michelle in overnight more than once, which turned into one of their favorite memories.

Michelle now owned several bars and restaurants in Dublin, which kept her too busy to travel often.

Lisa walked upstairs, closing her bedroom door behind her to make sure Carla hadn’t followed. Downstairs, Carla stayed behind with Betsy, sitting cross-legged on the rug as she watched the little girl feed her rabbit pieces of lettuce.

“Hello, Michelle? It’s Lisa here,” she said waving at the woman once the door was shut. “How have you been?”

“Oh my God, Lisa!” Michelle exclaimed on the other end. “I thought maybe Carla was daydreaming or something when she said she was there with you. She mentioned it but I didn’t believe her. I want to hear everything! It's been decades!”

"Yeah it has." Lisa smiled. “And you will, I promise. But right now, I wanted to ask, how’s the weather in Dublin?”

“Not bad. Cold, but dry. Why?”

Lisa hesitated a second before saying, “I was wondering if you and Ryan could come here instead. Carla’s upset that she can’t make it to Ireland even though she's trying to hide it but I know her well enough. I thought maybe you two could fly to London and take the train from there. She’d be over the moon. I can arrange the tickets tonight if you’re able to come.”

Michelle paused. She’d already set things up for Steve to manage her businesses while she visited her brother Liam and his wife Maria in New York later that month. Maria had just given birth to their second child, little Liam Junior.

“I want to surprise her,” Lisa added softly. “I’ll take care of everything, the tickets, the arrangements, everything. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

Michelle chuckled, touched. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Lisa. But where would we stay?”

“My parents have an extra room Ryan can use,” Lisa said. “You and Carla can share my room, it’s much bigger, and I’ll take Carla’s. Or, if you’d prefer, I can book you into a four-star hotel nearby. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Staying with you sounds much better than a hotel,” Michelle replied. “It’ll be nice to see you both again. I haven’t seen Carla in three months, and I really miss her. But we’ll have to fly to New York on the twenty-eighth to see Liam and Maria.”

Lisa smiled at the mention. “Right, your brother. I remember him.”

Michelle laughed. “Yeah, the one who tried to flirt with you the last time we visited Carla.”

Lisa laughed softly. “Oh, I remember. He was harmless, though.”

“Completely harmless,” Michelle agreed. “Still thinks his charm works on everyone.”

The two women shared a brief laugh, the kind that comes easily between people who share history.

"Give me a moment to arrange everything." Lisa said as she waved at Michelle.

"Talk soon then." Michelle responded.

Lisa, as a captain with British International Air, was able to secure two business-class tickets with ease, Dublin to London, departing that evening of December 24th. She also managed to upgrade Michelle and Ryan’s existing tickets to New York into first-class seats, departing from Manchester on December 28th, when the weather was expected to clear.

The airports in London were already operating normally after the storm had passed less than twenty-four hours earlier. Manchester, however, was still struggling, flights remained grounded as heavy winds continued to lash parts of the city.

Lisa called Michelle back from her own phone this time. 

Michelle answered on the second ring. “Okay, Michelle, it’s all sorted out,” Lisa said, scrolling through the confirmation emails on her phone. “You’ve got about two hours to get ready and get to the airport.”

"Wow, that was first." Michelle was surprised at how first Lisa was able to acquire air tickets so fast during this time of the year. "What are you? Airline CEO?" 

"I only fly their planes darling." She said grinning. “You told me you were already packed for your New York trip, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Your flight leaves around six and you should land in London before eight. Text me the moment you arrive so I can book your Uber.”

“No, Lisa, I can’t let you do that. You’ve already done too much,” Michelle protested gently.

Lisa snorted. “I got your business-class tickets for free. And I’ve got Uber credits I never use, I’m too stubborn and always drive myself to the airport when I’m flying. So no, Michelle, I haven’t spent a single cent. And even if I had, it would’ve been worth every penny.”

Michelle’s voice softened, touched. Lisa had always been this way, generous, thoughtful, and unpretentious, even when they were all teenagers. “Thank you, Lisa. Really. I’ll text you directly now that I have your number. Shhhh… I want Carla to be so surprised she loses her mind.”

Lisa laughed. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing to happen.”

Michelle chuckled, still buzzing with excitement as she ended the call, already picturing Carla’s face when she saw them walk in.

Lisa walked back downstairs, both Carla’s phone and hers still in her hand, trying to keep her expression neutral. Carla and Betsy were sitting on the rug, surrounded by crayons and coloring books. Betsy was insisting that Rabbit needed a “check-up,” and Carla was playing along, pretending to listen through an invisible stethoscope.

“Hey,” Lisa said, leaning against the large sofa.

Carla looked up immediately, smiling. “Everything alright? You were gone for a bit.”

Lisa nodded casually. “Yeah, all good. Just catching up with your friend who still sounds the same as when we were in high school.”

Carla’s grin widened instantly. “She was always gobby even when we were young, that one,” she said warmly. “She can’t help herself. If you’re not careful she might keep you on the phone for hours.”

Lisa chuckled. “She said to tell you she misses you, and that she’s keeping your Christmas present hostage until you come get it yourself.”

“I miss her too,” Carla said wistfully. Lisa caught a flash of sadness and longing cross her face before she brushed it off with a small laugh, shaking her head. “She never changes, and I love that about her.”

Betsy crawled closer and settled herself between Carla’s crossed legs on the rug. She tugged at Carla’s sleeve. “Dr. Connor, look! I drew you and Mummy and me!”

Lisa noticed how naturally Carla responded, not even slightly surprised by Betsy’s confidence or the way she climbed into her space as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Carla’s fingers automatically found their way into Betsy’s curls, combing through them gently as she looked down at the paper.

Carla blinked once, then smiled, taking the drawing carefully. “Wow, Betsy, that’s brilliant,” she said, leaning closer to see. “And is that Rabbit there too?”

“Yep! That’s him sliding!” Betsy said proudly.

Lisa watched them, her expression softening. For someone who’d only been around a few days, Carla had slipped into their world so naturally it almost scared her. The laughter and warmth all felt so right.

“Looks like you’ve been promoted to honorary family member,” Lisa said quietly as she walked closer.

Carla glanced up, their eyes meeting. A small, genuine smile curved her lips. “Best promotion I’ve ever had.”

Lisa swallowed a smile of her own and sat down beside them, pretending to focus on Betsy’s drawing, though her thoughts were elsewhere, on the conversation she’d just had upstairs and the secret she now carried.

An hour later, as Carla and Betsy argued playfully over what color Rabbit’s ears should be, Lisa’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She slipped it out discreetly and saw the message flash across the screen:

Michelle: We’re boarding. See you soon. ❤️✈️

Lisa: See you in at least four to five hours.

Michelle: Don’t remind me. Flying from another country is quicker than traveling on land within one country.

Lisa: The things we do for love.

Michelle: Tell that to your girlfriend.

Carla glanced over at Lisa, who was busy texting, a small smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, Carla wondered if that look meant Lisa had met someone new. The thought hit harder than she expected, a faint, unwelcome twist of jealousy she couldn’t quite name. She didn’t want to feel it, but she couldn’t help it.

Lisa stared at Michelle’s last text, momentarily thrown. She hesitated, then just sent back a single heart emoji before slipping the phone into her pocket.

But something lingered, an image she couldn’t shake. The thought of Carla being her girlfriend one day, maybe even more. The idea felt thrilling, natural in a way she hadn’t expected. Her lips curved upward, a smile she didn’t bother hiding this time.

Carla noticed. “Someone new?” she asked lightly, motioning toward the phone as Lisa tucked it away. Her tone was casual, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. She wouldn’t blame Lisa if she’d found someone else; she had no claim on her.

Lisa didn’t answer right away. She only looked at her, really looked, and then turned her gaze to Betsy, who was giggling over the drawing.

For the first time in a long while, Lisa felt like Christmas might actually mean something again.

Chapter Text

The Uber pulled up outside the Swain house just after 11:10 p.m. The storm had finally eased, leaving the street damp and glistening under the soft glow of streetlights. Headlights cut through the mist as Michelle and her fifteen-year-old son Ryan climbed out, stretching stiffly after the long ride from London. Their driver helped them unload two suitcases before driving off into the quiet night.

Lisa opened the front door almost at once as she’d been waiting by the window, checking her phone every few minutes for the uber updates. She stepped out onto the porch, a wide grin breaking across her face.

“Michelle Connor,” Lisa said, her voice warm, a touch disbelieving. “Twenty years, and you’re still impossible to miss.”

Michelle laughed, shaking her head as she hurried up the steps. “Lisa Swain. You look exactly the same, just more official and maybe a little too composed for this hour.”

Lisa chuckled, and the two women embraced tightly, laughter mixing with the cold air. “It’s really you,” Michelle murmured against Lisa’s shoulder. “After all this time.”

“Believe it,” Lisa said softly. “You’ve no idea how good it is to see you.”

When they finally pulled apart, Lisa looked over at the tall, sleepy boy hovering behind Michelle. “And you must be Ryan,” she said warmly.

“Yeah,” he said, offering a polite smile. “Mum’s told me loads about you while she visited you and auntie C and it’s mostly embarrassing stories.”

“Hey!” Michelle swatted the back of his head. “Some people can’t keep secrets.” She said, rolling her eyes at the teenager. 

Lisa laughed quietly. “That sounds about right. Come on in before you both freeze.”

They stepped inside pulling their suitcases with them, shaking off their coats and boots. The house was still and warm, the faint scent of pine and gingerbread lingering in the air after Glenda’s baking. The tree lights in the living room glowed softly, casting colored reflections on the polished floor.

“Everyone’s asleep,” Lisa said in a low voice. “Mum and Dad turned in after dinner. Betsy too, she was exhausted after decorating the tree with Carla.”

At that, Michelle smiled faintly, her eyes lighting up. “So she’s really here, Carla, I mean. Still can’t believe this is happening.”

Lisa nodded. “Yeah. It’s been... something, meeting her and then having her around. She’s staying till the storm clears.” She said with an affectionate tone in her voice. 

Michelle met her gaze with quiet warmth. “You always liked her, a lot.” She whispered closer so only Lisa could hear her. “I could see how you two looked at each other when I came for a visit. And you didn’t even realize sometimes that I was present. She’s still carrying the torch for you too if she hasn’t already confessed that. In fact she never stopped, I can attest to that.” 

Lisa smiled, brushing that off with a small shake of her head. “Come on, I’ll show you two to your rooms. You can settle in and get some rest. It’s late.”

She led them upstairs, speaking softly so as not to wake anyone. “You’ll be in the guest room here.” She indicated a room for Ryan “My mum already put fresh linens and extra blankets if you need them. Bathroom’s those two doors. You can use either of them” She said

Ryan muttered a thank-you and immediately dropped his bag by the bed, half-asleep already. 

Michelle lingered a moment by the doorway, turning back to Lisa.

Lisa took Michelle to her room. “And you missy can have my room tonight.”

“And where are you going to sleep?” Michelle asked concerned. “I can always sleep with Ryan, that bed is huge.” 

“No, you don’t need to be cramped up.” Lisa whispered. “I will take Betsy’s Smurfette bed tonight. For some reason she has been glued to Carla the whole day today and insisted on sleeping in her bed. And Carla being Carla has been spoiling that girl rotten so she had also insisted on taking Betsy with her. So they are now in her room.” She pointed to Carla’s closed door where the two slept.

“Thanks again for arranging this,” she said quietly. “You’ve made Christmas for her and for us. Ryan was really missing his auntie C.”

Lisa’s smile softened. “I’m glad you came. She’ll be over the moon when she sees you.”

Michelle chuckled, lowering her voice. “She’s got no idea, right?”

“None,” Lisa said with a small grin. “Let’s keep it that way till morning.”

Michelle nodded. “Goodnight, Lisa.” She whispered. 

“Night, Michelle.”

Lisa walked back down the hall and paused briefly outside Carla’s door. She could hear the faint murmur of Betsy’s breathing and Carla’s gentle laugh from earlier still echoing in her mind. She smiled to herself, tomorrow was going to be unforgettable.

—-----

Lisa woke up to Betsy’s squeals and shrieks coming from Carla’s room. Betsy’s room was sandwiched between the guest room that Carla occupied and Lisa’s room on the other side. She groaned softly as she dragged herself out of the tiny Smurfette bed and stretched her body, her back popping lightly. As much as she was a little shorter in stature than most people, Betsy’s bed was definitely too small for her, though she had to admit the mattress was surprisingly comfortable. All in all, she’d slept better than expected.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and quickly texted Michelle, telling her to stay in their rooms until Carla and Betsy had gone downstairs. The surprise had to land perfectly. Michelle, knowing her son could sleep through an earthquake, wasn’t worried that Ryan might wake early and ruin it.

Lisa headed to the washroom for a quick shower. The hot water woke her up properly, and within minutes she was dressed in jeans and a black-and-white jumper, her damp curls falling over her shoulders. She smiled at her reflection, a flutter of anticipation stirring in her chest... Carla was in the next room, completely unaware of what was waiting for her later that morning.

She made her way to Carla’s door, hearing muffled voices and Betsy’s giggles from inside. Carla’s low, warm tone drifted through the crack of the door, followed by another burst of laughter when she tickled the little girl. Lisa couldn’t help smiling.

“It’s Christmas Day!” Betsy squealed between giggles. “Let’s go see what Santa left for me downstairs! Grandpa and Grandma said Santa would leave loads of presents if I’m a good girl. I was a good girl, Doctor Connor, wasn’t I?”

“You definitely were, baby,” Carla replied indulgently, her voice soft and fond. The two remained snuggled under the duvet, sharing that easy warmth that had developed between them since the storm hit. “Let me take a quick shower, and then we’ll go see if Santa drank the glass of milk and ate the cookies we left him .”

Just as Carla was gathering her things for the shower, she heard a knock.

“Come in,” she said, turning toward the door.

Lisa stepped in with a bright smile, looking fresh and radiant. “Good morning, beautiful ladies,” she greeted, her tone teasing as she winked at Carla. “How did my girls sleep last night?”

“The best, Mummy,” came Betsy’s muffled reply from under the duvet, her voice thick with sleep.

Carla smiled at the little girl before glancing back at Lisa. “She just woke up a few minutes ago. Merry Christmas, Lise.” She leaned in and kissed Lisa’s cheek, her lips brushing warm against cool morning skin. “You look refreshed already,” she added, her eyes flicking over Lisa’s outfit before settling on the damp curls she had always loved.

For a moment, Carla’s hand twitched with the old instinct to reach out and run her fingers through Lisa’s hair like she used to do in high school, when mornings were slower and boundaries didn’t exist between them. The thought stirred something deep in her chest, but she caught herself and cleared her throat softly instead. “I’m heading to take a shower,” she said, redirecting the moment.

Lisa, still smiling, nodded. “We have guests today. One slept in my room and the other in the extra room. I took Betsy’s bed for the night.” She paused briefly, watching Carla’s reaction. “Mum and Dad are already up, and Mum as expected is cooking up a storm downstairs.”

Carla mock-rolled her eyes. “Of course she is. I bet she’s cooking for an army down there, especially with the new guests.”

“Oh, trust me,” Lisa said with a laugh, “guests or not, Mum always cooks like the Queen herself is coming over. So, prepare your stomach... you’re going to be overloaded today.”

Carla grinned and shook her head, a spark of warmth lighting her expression. “Then I’d better take that shower before she feeds me half the pantry.”

Lisa laughed softly. “I need to clean this one up too.” She motioned at the small lump wriggling under the duvet. “Bets, time to get out of bed and brush your teeth, baby,” she called out.

“I’m not here, Mummy,” Betsy countered, burrowing deeper under the large duvet.

Lisa rolled her eyes while Carla chuckled at the little girl’s antics.

“I’m going to unleash the tickle monster if you don’t get up soon,” Lisa warned in a mock-serious tone.

Betsy started giggling even before Lisa reached her, her laughter growing louder as Lisa dove onto the bed. When Lisa’s fingers found her sides, Betsy shrieked with laughter. Carla paused mid-motion, completely drawn in by the sight, mother and daughter tumbling together in a storm of laughter and joy. She thought fleetingly that she could watch this scene forever. Waking up to it every morning didn’t sound bad at all.

“Carla, help me! Help me, Dr. Connor! Help me!” Betsy cried out between giggles, trying to escape her mother’s grasp.

Carla laughed and jumped in to assist, lunging toward Lisa and tickling her sides in retaliation. Lisa let out a surprised scream, Carla knew perfectly well how ticklish she was. Within seconds, the room was filled with uncontrollable laughter as Lisa squirmed helplessly, tears gathering in her eyes from laughing so hard.

Betsy squealed with delight, joining Carla in her “rescue mission.” The little girl loved every second of this chaos.

Her mum always played with her, but ever since Carla had arrived, Lisa seemed lighter, happier as if something inside her had come back to life. Betsy jumped on the bed beside Carla, her tiny fingers attacking her mother’s ribs while Carla, already straddling Lisa’s hips, continued her own merciless tickling.

“Okay, okay!” Lisa gasped, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “I surrender! I won’t do it again!”

Carla finally stopped, her fingers hovering midair. She was still straddling Lisa, her breath quick and shallow from laughing, but when her eyes met Lisa’s, everything stilled. The air between them changed in an instant. The laughter faded into silence, replaced by a charged, heavy stillness.

For a long moment, Carla just looked down at Lisa, her still damp hair messy, her face flushed, eyes sparkling and lips parted from laughter. The urge to lean down and kiss her was almost unbearable. It took everything she had not to move.

Lisa met her gaze, her chest rising and falling quickly. She wished Carla would just give in and do it... she was right there, close enough that Lisa could feel the faint warmth of her breath. Their eyes locked in an intense, magnetic stare that made the air feel thick, electric.

Betsy froze beside them, sensing the sudden shift. She glanced between her mum and Dr. Connor, confusion written all over her tiny face. The adults were completely still now, no laughter, no words, no tickles. Just… staring at each other. Were they playing statue? Did she miss the call?

“Mummy?” Betsy finally said, breaking the silence.

The sound of Betsy's small voice snapped both women back to reality. They blinked, the spell breaking as quickly as it had come. Carla immediately shifted off Lisa’s hips, her cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason now. Lisa sat up slowly, running a hand through her tousled hair to steady herself.

Carla cleared her throat. “I’d better go take that shower,” she said, her voice quieter than before. She grabbed her toiletries bag from the dresser, avoiding Lisa’s eyes for a beat too long.

Lisa forced a playful tone to break the lingering tension. “Yeah, Mum’s downstairs waiting to feed us all. You have no idea what she’s like on Christmas morning. When she’s got a full house, she’s absolutely itching to feed everyone.” She snorted softly at the thought.

Carla paused at the door and looked back over her shoulder. Lisa was helping Betsy out of bed, brushing her daughter’s hair from her face with a slow, tender motion. The sight hit something deep in Carla’s chest. It was such a simple, ordinary moment, yet it carried a quiet kind of warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She stood there for a second longer, taking it in, Lisa’s soft voice, Betsy’s sleepy grin, the way the morning light fell on both of them. Carla realized she had never wanted anything more than to belong in that picture, to wake up to scenes like this every day.

----

Lisa quickly cleaned Betsy up and helped her brush her teeth. The little girl chose to wear Christmas-themed pajamas that her grandfather had bought for her the other night when he had taken Carla to the mall for her last Christmas shopping.

As Carla finished her shower and got dressed, her mind drifted back to the drive she’d taken yesterday with David Swain, Lisa’s dad. The conversation had been unexpected and honest, the kind that stayed with her long after it ended. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct, and yet his warmth and calm voice had made it easy for her to open up.

She smiled faintly as she buttoned her shirt, replaying his words in her head about Lisa, about forgiveness and about not wasting her chance. He had been kind, but firm, like a father who wanted the best for his child and was quietly daring her to be brave enough to reach for it.

For the first time in years, Carla felt a flicker of something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for a long time, hope.

Flashback December 24th evening drive to the mall...

The doctor hadn’t, of course, bought any gifts for Lisa and her family since she hadn’t expected to be there with them. The only gifts she had in her large overnight bag were Michelle’s and Ryan’s. So, the previous evening, she had approached David to ask if she could get a lift to the mall when the older Swain mentioned that he was heading into the city to see a friend. David said it was no problem at all, and Carla had enjoyed spending time with him one-on-one as they drove into the city.

“So, what are your intentions with my daughter, doctor?” David asked suddenly.

Carla was caught so off guard that she almost swallowed her tongue. “I… I… what?” she asked, blinking at him. She was rarely lost for words, but David had managed to make her speechless.

“I see how you look at her and how she looks at you,” David said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You want her, and she wants you too. She’s been alone for two years, and after Becky died, I never thought I’d see that light back in her eyes again. But then you showed up, and I swear I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time. Becky made her happy, we all saw that, but there was still something missing. Glenda said something to me yesterday, and when I really looked at Lisa, I saw it too. I don’t know if you two were more than friends back in high school, but we’ve never seen that light in her eyes so bright since those days. After high school, she changed. We didn’t know why then, and when she came out, we were stupid and stopped speaking to her for a while. But we got through it, we apologized, and we’ve had a better relationship with our only child for more than a decade. We accepted who she was. She was still our Lisa, just that she loved women instead of men.”

David turned onto the street that led to the mall and continued, “So, my question again is what are your intentions with Lisa? We love our child very much, and we won’t stand by if someone is going to walk in and out of her life just like that. We have Betsy to think about too.”

“I… I… I like her, sir." She stuttered. "I mean, David,” She added quietly.

“Just like her?” David asked as he parked the SUV near the mall entrance. “I like sugar in my coffee. I like fishing with my mates. I like—”

“Okay, I get it,” Carla interrupted, exasperated. “I broke Lisa’s heart a long time ago after we graduated from high school.”

David stayed silent, piecing things together, and waited for her to continue.

“I don’t know if she would ever want me back after that,” Carla said in a low voice. “I still love her, even after all these years. I’ve never been able to fill that hole I created by letting her go. I haven’t met anyone who comes close, so I never really found anyone else since high school.” A tear slid down her cheek as she finished.

David reached over and pulled her into a hug. “Shh… she already forgives you,” he said softly. “Being a teenager is hard enough, and being part of the LGBTQ+ community back then made it even harder. I understand why it might have been difficult for you to deal with all that.” He paused, then asked gently, “Do your parents know?”

Carla nodded and leaned back slightly. “They’re very conservative. When one of my brothers told them I was queer, they weren’t happy. I was treated like an outcast whenever I visited home. My siblings and I were never close to our parents anyway. We grew up around nannies and house staff more than we did our own parents, so it didn’t make much difference to me. I just got on with my life.”

“That’s sad to hear,” David said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Carla shrugged. “I’m too old to be bothered by it anymore. My siblings and I are close now, but my parents travel a lot since they retired. They’re in Spain for Christmas, and my brothers and their wives are there too. I chose to visit my best friend Michelle and her son Ryan in Ireland because I didn’t want to be a third wheel in that house.”

David chuckled. “You’re welcome in our home anytime you’re in Manchester, darling. Glenda would adopt you today if you let her.” He smiled warmly and added, “Talk to Lisa. She’s the kind of person who takes forever to say how she feels, and I think it’s up to you to break the ice. Otherwise, you’ll both be waiting until you turn gray before anything happens.”

Carla smiled at his words.

“Now go get your shopping done,” David said. “I’ll be back in two hours to pick you up, right?”

Carla nodded. “I should be done by then,” she said, getting out of the large Range Rover.

“Remember,” David said with a wink, “the ball’s in your court. Don’t waste it.” Then he drove off.

 ----

When Carla finally appeared in the living room, the whole space was glowing with warmth and festivity. Christmas carols played softly in the background, filling the air with a cozy cheer.

Lisa and Betsy were setting the eight-seater dining table, moving around to the rhythm of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” They pointed at each other playfully, laughing as they danced with no rhythm but all the joy in the world.

At the stove, Glenda and David were finishing up breakfast together. Glenda laughed at something her husband whispered in her ear, and the sight of the two of them made Carla pause. She had never witnessed anything quite like it before, a family scene so pure and full of life that it almost hurt to look at. It was the kind of moment that seemed to belong in a picture book or a film, yet here it was, real and alive before her.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. This was what she had missed for the last two decades, the laughter, the noise, the shared mornings that built a life. She could have been a part of it. She could have learned from Glenda how to cook or from David how to fix things around the house. She could have watched Betsy grow from the day she was born.

Glenda turned just then and saw Carla standing by the doorway with a tear on her cheek. Without hesitation, she crossed the room and pulled Carla into a warm embrace.

“We love you, darling. Come and join us,” she said softly, brushing away the tear with her thumb. Then she gave her a reassuring smile and a quick wink before turning toward her daughter.

Carla nodded slightly, her eyes finding Lisa’s across the room.

Lisa froze for a moment, taking her in the soft curls tied up in a loose bun, still damp from the shower, the way the morning light touched her face, bare and natural. Her skin looked smooth, her jawline sharply defined now that no hair fell around it. Carla didn’t need makeup or effort to be beautiful; she simply was.

Their eyes lingered on each other, a quiet connection passing between them... unspoken but undeniable.

“Breakfast is about to be served, girls,” Glenda announced, mainly for Lisa’s benefit. She knew Lisa had something planned, a surprise for Carla before breakfast began.

Lisa blinked, pulling herself back to the present at her mother’s voice. She discreetly pulled her phone from her pocket and typed quickly.

Lisa: You two can come down now. Breakfast is about to be served.

Michelle: I almost ran into Carla upstairs when she was coming from her bedroom, but she didn’t see me. 😂

Lisa: Lol thank God for that, or she would’ve figured everything out. Is Ryan up yet?

Michelle: Yeah. We’ll be down in a few. My heart is beating out of my chest.

Lisa: Same here. I can’t believe we actually pulled this off. I can’t wait to see the look on her face.

Michelle: Me too!

-----

Lisa made sure Carla was sitting facing the staircase landing.

Michelle and Ryan walked down slowly.

Carla spotted them at once as they entered the dining area.

She froze, eyes wide. “Michelle?” Carla asked, disbelief and joy mixing together, her gaze moving to her godson. “Ryan? Is that really you two?” She glanced at Lisa with a confused frown, unable to process what was happening.

Lisa nodded and smiled widely, the secret she had been keeping finally out in the open.

“It’s them, darling,” Lisa whispered, squeezing Carla’s hand reassuringly. “Our guests from last night.”

Michelle cleared her throat softly. “Carla…” she called tentatively. “Come here and give your best mate a hug, will you?”

“Michelle?” Carla’s voice was barely audible, disbelief and happiness warring for dominance. She stood and stepped forward as if in a dream. “You… you’re here?”

Michelle laughed softly, tears already in her eyes. “Surprise. Merry Christmas, Carla.”

Carla’s hands flew to her mouth. “I… I didn’t expect this… not at all.” Her voice caught. She blinked rapidly, taking in both Michelle and Ryan. “You came… for me?”

Ryan grinned shyly. “Hi, Auntie C. Merry Christmas.”

Carla’s face broke into a radiant, unrestrained smile. She stepped forward, then another, wrapping Michelle in a tight, trembling hug. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered repeatedly. “I can’t believe it.”

Michelle hugged her just as tightly. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Lisa made it happen last evening. She wanted to surprise you.”

Carla stepped back and pulled a now taller Ryan into a warm embrace. “You’ve grown so much!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” She pulled him back again into another hug, laughing softly.

Ryan chuckled. “You look exactly the same, Auntie C, but shorter,” he said, grinning.

Carla swatted playfully at his lanky frame and then stood back, looking between them both, eyes sparkling with tears and laughter. “This… this is the best Christmas ever,” she admitted quietly, feeling a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed for months.

Lisa, watching from the side, felt a surge of satisfaction. The surprise had worked perfectly. Carla’s face, full of shock, disbelief, and happiness, was exactly what she had hoped for.

Something registered in Carla’s mind as she turned to Lisa. “You did this? For me?” she asked, still incredulous.

Lisa nodded with tears in her own eyes. “For you, darling.”

Carla crossed the room and hugged Lisa tightly. Lisa wrapped her arms around her, holding on just as tightly. Everyone else in the room watched the scene with broad smiles.

“I could kiss you right now,” Carla said, pulling back slightly and holding Lisa’s face between her hands.

Lisa nodded. “Okay.” The captain responded as if it was a question.

Carla’s eyes flicked between Lisa’s eyes and her lips, the pull almost impossible to resist. When Lisa’s tongue peeked out and lightly touched her lower lip, Carla leaned down and kissed her with the intensity that made everyone else in the room stop for a moment. Their kiss deepened, completely absorbing them, and no one else seemed to matter anymore.

Glenda cleared her throat, finally breaking the moment. “Uhm… breakfast is ready, everyone!” she announced cheerfully.

Carla laughed, pulling back from Lisa’s embrace.

“Wow!” Michelle exclaimed from across the room, still impressed. “That kiss was scorching. I can’t believe you did that with her parents here.” She laughed softly, and both Lisa and Carla blushed, still catching their breath.

“Come on, let’s go eat. And you two are not leaving my side for the rest of the day,” Carla declared as she guided Michelle and Ryan to the table. “First off, I don’t know if you’ve met Lisa’s parents, Glenda and David, and this here…” she said, ruffling Betsy’s curls. “Is the fine lady of the house, Dr. Betsy Swain, physician for everything stuffed animal and my current boss.”

Everyone chuckled at the little girl, who nodded with a wide grin.

“Hello, Doctor Swain. Nice to make your acquaintance,” Michelle teased. She then moved to shake Glenda and David’s hands with Ryan following suit.

Michelle smiled, looping an arm through Carla’s. “And thank you, David and Glenda, for having us in your home,” she said.

“You’re welcome, darling. Any friend of our Lisa is family. Now sit down and help yourselves,” Glenda replied warmly.

“A proper cup of coffee for me first,” Michelle announced as Lisa poured some from the carafe.

“Ryan, coffee or juice?” Lisa asked.

“Juice, thanks,” Ryan replied, already reaching for the jug of orange juice.

“He doesn’t drink coffee, tea sometimes,” Carla explained, handing Michelle a plate stacked with pancakes for Ryan.

Ryan followed, grinning. “I’m ready for breakfast too, Auntie C. And maybe some Christmas pudding later?”

Carla shook her head, laughing softly. “You kids are impossible,” she said, feeling lighter than she had in years. The storm that had grounded her flight now seemed like the best thing that could have happened.

Lisa’s hand found Carla’s thigh naturally, emboldened by their earlier kiss. Carla froze but glanced at Lisa, remembering their moment, and felt the rush of emotion all over again. Their eyes met, locking once more, oblivious to everything else around them.

Michelle and Glenda chatted quietly about Dublin, Glenda’s maternal roots sparking memories and stories, while David engaged Ryan in conversation about sports. They quickly discovered they both cheered for the same team, Manchester United. Betsy, completely absorbed in her own world, was busy feeding Bear imaginary porridge and offering imaginary carrots to Rabbit. Everyone had their attention occupied, yet Carla and Lisa remained in their own quiet bubble, exchanging subtle glances and soft, flirtatious smiles. They were completely caught up in the thrill of reconnecting, the unspoken tension and warmth between them creating a world all their own amid the festive chaos.

Chapter Text

After convincing Betsy that they should wait to open their presents the next day on December 26th, Glenda Swain encouraged Lisa to take their visitors to the Christmas market and then go skating since the weather had eased quite a bit. Glenda and her husband David were expecting their friends Kevin Webster and his wife Sally Metcalfe, along with their daughter, to come around and help with the dinner preparations, turkey, mince pies, red cabbage, and Christmas pudding were all on the list.

Lisa bundled everyone up before they headed out. The three adults and two kids Ryan and Betsy all squeezed into David’s Range Rover. David had told Lisa he wouldn’t be needing the car since he and Glenda would be too busy in the kitchen.

As Lisa drove through the streets, the radio played Christmas tunes, and Betsy’s small voice occasionally chimed in from the back seat, singing slightly off-key but with full enthusiasm. Michelle kept looking out the window, smiling at the familiar Manchester streets lit up with festive lights.

“You’ve got to admit,” she said, turning to Carla, “Lisa’s done a good job keeping this all under wraps. You should’ve seen your face this morning. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Carla chuckled. “I nearly dropped the plate of pancakes. I didn’t think anyone could get one over me, but apparently Lisa can.”

Lisa smirked, eyes on the road. “I do like a dramatic reveal. Besides, what’s Christmas without a bit of surprise?”

----

The group first stopped at a special Santa session that had reopened for the afternoon. Betsy practically bounced in excitement when she saw Santa in his red suit, the lights around his grotto twinkling. She climbed onto his lap without hesitation, chatting away about how she’d been “mostly good this year.”

Ryan, however, stayed back with folded arms, pretending to check his phone. “I’m fifteen,” he reminded his mum when Michelle teased him. “That’s like... ancient in Santa years.”

“Ancient?” Carla laughed, ruffling his hair. “You’re practically a baby, Connor.”

“Hey!” he protested, but his smirk betrayed him.

After Betsy’s photo with Santa, they headed toward the Manchester Christmas Market in the city centre. 

----

Manchester Christmas Market

Even after the storm, Albert Square and the nearby streets were alive with people wrapped in scarves and gloves, weaving between rows of festively lit wooden chalets. The smell of roasted chestnuts, mulled wine, cinnamon, and fresh pretzels filled the air. Strings of fairy lights draped between stalls, giving the whole market a warm golden glow against the winter sky. Snowflakes drifted lightly, more decorative than disruptive, and the sound of chatter and laughter rolled through the square.

They moved from stall to stall, with Betsy tugging Lisa’s hand every time she saw something shiny. Ryan kept pretending to be bored but secretly pocketed a few snacks every chance he got.

Michelle was in her element, chattering with the local vendors and convincing Carla to buy things she didn’t need. “Look at this!” Michelle said, holding up a wooden ornament shaped like a Manchester bee. “Symbol of the city, you’ve got to have it for your tree in London next year.”

Carla smiled, amused. “I’ve already got other ornaments.”

“Yeah, but this one’s handcrafted. You can’t say no to that.”

Lisa raised a brow. “You said that about the last four things you bought.” She said snorting at Michelle's enthusiasm and impulsive habit.

Michelle grinned. “And I stand by it. I’m supporting local businesses, me.”

They stopped for hot chocolate and small paper trays of warm churros dusted with sugar. Betsy’s lips were covered in chocolate, and she proudly offered Lisa a churro that was mostly already bitten.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Lisa said, pretending to take a bite, making a face at a snickering Carla and earning a satisfied nod from Betsy.

Across the table, Carla and Lisa’s eyes met, lingering longer than they should have. It was a quiet kind of connection, something private amid the noise of the crowd. Michelle caught it, smiling to herself. After all the missed years, seeing Carla this happy again was something she hadn’t thought she’d ever witness. Somehow she was also thankful for the weather that caused Carla to end up stranded in Manchester and meet Lisa at the airport. It all felt like fate played a big part in their getting back together again after all these years.

When they finally left the market, the back of the car looked like they’d raided an entire gift shop bags filled with handmade candles, ornaments, scarves, and sweets.

----

Skate Manchester – Cathedral Gardens

By the time they arrived at the rink, the air had turned colder, the ground glistening with a thin layer of frost. Cathedral Gardens looked beautiful, the rink surrounded by small Christmas huts, fairy lights hanging across the trees, and a giant lit-up snowflake arch marking the entrance.

They collected their skates from the rental booth, everyone sitting on the benches to lace up. Ryan looked eager, Betsy was practically bouncing, and Michelle already looked like she regretted saying yes.

“Alright,” Lisa said, pulling her gloves on after helping Betsy with her gear. “Everyone ready?” Lisa asked, skating a bit and twirling around on the spot like a professional figure skater.

“No,” Michelle replied immediately. She was probably the only one who wasn’t good at skating. Ryan had been to skating rinks in London with Carla a ton of times since he was little, so he had become quite good at it and add to that, he did regular land skating on dry pavement. “I was not built for icy surfaces.”

Carla smirked. “You’ll be fine, Chelle. It’s like riding a bike. I’ll hold your hand if you want.”

“I fall off those too,” Michelle muttered, earning a laugh from Ryan.

“That’s true,” Carla agreed with a nod, remembering Michelle’s total lack of coordination on anything that required balance. “You’ve always had two left feet.”

Michelle glared at her. “Excuse me, I have rhythm. I just don’t have… stability.”

Lisa bit her lip to hide her grin. “Rhythm doesn’t count for much on ice, love.” She skated backwards effortlessly, the picture of confidence. “Just try not to take anyone down with you, alright?”

“Ha-ha,” Michelle shot back, stepping gingerly onto the ice like it might swallow her whole. “If I go down, I’m taking someone with me. Preferably you.”

As soon as they stepped onto the ice, Michelle’s prediction came true. Her legs went opposite directions almost instantly.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she yelped, clutching the railing for dear life. “This is not natural!”

Ryan laughed. “You’ve got to move your feet, Mum. You look like a penguin afraid of commitment.”

“Keep it up, son, and I’ll ground you the second we get home,” she warned, wobbling dangerously before grabbing the rail again.

“I’ll cling to whatever I like, thank you very much!” Michelle snapped, wobbling dangerously.

Carla, meanwhile, glided easily across the rink and turned back toward them, graceful as ever. “You know, Chelle, the idea is to skate, not audition for the slowest fall in history.”

“Shut up, Carla,” Michelle grumbled, clinging to the railing for dear life. Though even she couldn’t help laughing

Betsy, meanwhile, was already zooming past them, skating with the ease of someone far older. 

Michelle eyed the little girl with disbelief. “Show-off,” She muttered, trying to regain balance.

Betsy's little legs moved with surprising speed, pink hat bobbing up and down as she confidently circled Michelle.

Michelle’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? You're only four!”

“Four and fearless,” Lisa called back proudly.

"And you're big auntie Michelle." Betsy shot back with a grin making the others around lose it. 

Lisa laughed from nearby. “She’s been skating since she could walk. You might want to take lessons from her.”

“I will not be shown up by a four-year-old!” Michelle said, then immediately fell flat on her bum.

That was it, the others couldn’t hold it in anymore. Carla nearly doubled over, Lisa’s laughter echoed through the rink, and even Ryan skated over, howling with amusement.

Michelle looked up at Betsy, who was circling her again like a little professional. “Go on then, laugh it up, tiny person.”

Betsy stopped right in front of her, managing to stay perfectly balanced. She looked down at Michelle with a serious expression and said, “Do you want me to ask my mummy to get you the baby stand? Like when I was little?”

Carla actually had to hold onto the railing for support, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Lisa was wiping tears from her eyes, and Ryan was doubled over, barely staying upright.

Betsy was the picture of innocence, she didn't understand what was funny with what she told auntie Michelle. 

Michelle gasped dramatically. “The baby stand? Oh, that’s rich!” She groaned. “You’re all cruel. Cruel, the whole lot of you. Especially you, tiny person.”

Betsy giggled, twirling around her again. “You can hold my hand if you want.”

“Oh great, now I need a preschooler’s help,” Michelle said, reaching out anyway. She managed three wobbly steps before nearly taking them both down again.

Lisa came over quickly, steadying Betsy while still laughing. “You’re going to take her out at this rate.”

Betsy grinned innocently. “The baby stand helps you not fall.”

“I’m fine!” Michelle insisted, wobbling again and then landing straight on her bum.

Everyone lost it again. Carla clutched her sides.

Lisa skated over, half-laughing, half-helping Michelle up. “You sure you don’t want the stand, Michelle?

Carla skated backward, teasing, “Honestly, Chelle, you fall so much we might need to reserve you a medical tent.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” Michelle replied. “You’ll all be crying when I sue the rink for emotional distress.”

Lisa smirked. “You’d never make it to the office without falling over first.”

“Oh, bite me,” Michelle muttered, brushing ice off her coat.

Ryan skated past them, easily sliding in circles. “She’s getting better,” he said, grinning. “She only fell twice that lap.”

Michelle pointed at him. “You’re supposed to be supportive!”

Betsy piped up again, “I think she’s doing great for a big person like mummy and doctor Connor.”

That did it, Lisa and Carla were completely gone, laughing until their sides hurt.

Eventually, Michelle gave up and dragged herself off the ice, declaring, “Right, that’s enough humiliation for one day. I’ll supervise from the sidelines.”

Betsy skated over, hands on her little hips. “That means you’re quitting.”

“I’m retiring gracefully, thank you very much." Michelle corrected. “There’s a difference.”

Meanwhile, Betsy had resumed showing off, skating backward now just to prove she could. “See, Michelle, it’s easy!” she said brightly.

Carla skated up beside Lisa, both of them watching Betsy zoom around the rink again. Lisa glanced sideways at her, eyes soft. “You’ve got to admit, she’s incredible for her age.”

Carla smiled adoringly, her breath visible in the cold air. “She really is.” Then her eyes lingered on Lisa. “You both are.”

“Maybe you should hold Betsy’s hand this time,” Carla called over to a resigned Michelle between laughs. “She’s clearly the pro here.”

“I swear you’re all bullies,” Michelle said, dragging herself to the side of the rink. “Every single one of you.”

Ryan grinned. “Aren’t you glad you came skating?”

“Thrilled,” Michelle deadpanned. “Truly the highlight of my day.”

Carla skated past and winked. “You’ll live, Chelle.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Barely.”

Lisa glided beside Carla, watching Michelle retreat to the sidelines with exaggerated dignity. “She’ll never live this down.”

“Good,” Carla murmured, smiling as she glanced over at Lisa, her breath fogging lightly in the cold air, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Because that was worth every second.”

Lisa met her gaze, their shared laughter softening into something quieter, warmer. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “it really was.”

For a moment, the noise around them faded. It was quiet and gentle, just the sound of skates scraping ice and laughter in the distance.

Michelle was sitting nearby watching the skaters, pretending not to notice as Carla and Lisa shared a smile that spoke volumes.

Carla and Lisa had stopped skating for a moment near the side, both catching their breath. The light snow that had started to fall added a soft chill to the air. Lisa turned to face Carla, cheeks flushed from the cold and the laughter. Carla reached out, brushing a bit of snow from Lisa’s hair, her glove brushing against her temple.

Lisa smiled at her, eyes soft. Neither of them said a word for a few seconds, and then Carla leaned in, kissing her gently. The kiss was brief, warm, and natural, like it had been waiting there between them all along.

Lisa’s breath hitched, and when Carla pulled back, both women were smiling, the kind that reached the eyes. Without needing to speak, Lisa reached for Carla’s hand, and the two pushed off together, gliding side by side, fingers intertwined.

Every now and then, Carla would glance over and catch Lisa’s eye. A small smile passed between them, a laugh and an unspoken connection. It felt easy and right.

Their eyes drifted often toward the centre of the rink where Ryan had taken Betsy’s hands. He was clearly showing off, but in the best way, teaching the little girl dance turns and helping her glide with perfect balance. Betsy’s pink tutu, worn proudly over her jeans, twirled every time she spun, and her laughter echoed across the rink.

A few other skaters slowed down to watch. Some clapped. Others smiled at what looked like a teenage boy and his little sister putting on a sweet Christmas performance. Betsy twirled like a princess, squealing in delight as Ryan lifted her slightly and spun her around.

Lisa gasped, hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God—”

Carla squeezed her arm gently. “It’s alright, love. He’s careful.” She spoke of her nephew confidently. She trained him so she was aware of his capabilities.

Lisa exhaled, eyes still locked on the two in the middle. “He’s too confident for fifteen.”

“Definitely not like his mum in terms of skating,” Carla teased loudly, smirking at Michelle's direction.

"I heard that." Michelle yelled from where she was. 

Lisa nudged her with an elbow, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

Michelle, now sitting on the bench watching too, wide-eyed. “I swear that boy’s got moves I didn’t even know existed. He didn’t get those from me,” she said aloud to no one in particular.

Carla called over with a grin, “That’s for sure!”

Michelle stuck her tongue out playfully. “I’ll remember that, Connor.”

Back on the ice, Ryan set Betsy down after another perfect twirl. The little girl bounced on her skates, cheeks flushed red with excitement. “Again, again!” she insisted, tugging at his sleeve.

Ryan laughed. “You’re going to make me dizzy, Bets.”

“One more time, please!” she begged, her small hands clasped in mock pleading.

He sighed with exaggerated defeat. “Alright, one more. But if I fall, you’re helping me up.”

“You won’t fall,” Betsy declared confidently.

“Famous last words,” Carla murmured as she and Lisa skated past them with smiles.

Ryan lifted Betsy once more, steady and sure. The crowd around the rink clapped again, and Betsy’s laughter filled the air, pure and delighted.

Lisa leaned her head lightly against Carla’s shoulder as they glided to a slow stop near the barrier again, watching Ryan and Betsy take their bow.

“Look at them,” Lisa said softly. “They look so happy.”

Carla smiled. “They’re not the only ones.”

Lisa turned to her, eyes bright. “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Carla squeezed her hand again. “More than I can explain.” She said smiling. "Probably one of the best Christmases of my life."

Lisa squeezed Carla's hand before bringing the gloved hand to her mouth. "Mine too." She said with a wink. 

From the benches, Michelle shouted, “Alright, skating royalty, I’m freezing my backside off over here! Can we please go get something hot before my toes fall off?”

Ryan skated toward the edge, grinning. “We’ll meet you at the café, Mum!”

Michelle groaned dramatically. “I’m not sure I’ll make it that far without sliding into traffic.”

Carla snorted. “You’ll be fine, just don’t go gripping onto random strangers just to keep upright.”

“Not the reassurance you think it is,” Michelle muttered, still wobbling on her blades, her arms flapping like a penguin trying to take flight. A man skating past had to swerve to avoid her, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘hazard zone.’

Lisa tried to hide her laughter but failed, covering her mouth as she whispered to Carla, “She’s one spin away from taking out half the rink.”

“Oi! I heard that!” Michelle shot back.

A little later Michelle rejoined them for one last group photo on the rink, still complaining about her bruised backside and frozen toes but laughing all the same. Lisa pulled Carla to her side and kissed her on the cheek, while Michelle crouched behind little Betsy, pretending to hold her still as Ryan knelt in front of the group. One of the nearby skaters offered to take their picture, and the resulting photo captured five red noses, two massive grins, and Michelle mid-eye-roll.

Lisa laughed, her hand on Carla’s lower back as she guided them toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s go before Michelle reports us all for attempted manslaughter by ice.”

Carla laughed and followed, her arm brushing Lisa’s as they skated off the rink together, still holding hands. The two women moved in sync, giggling like teenagers rediscovering something they thought had been buried long ago. Behind them, Michelle shuffled along muttering about “health and safety violations,” while Betsy skated along following her mum and Carla off the rink singing Let It Go.

Ryan, followed Betsy behind, he shook his head with a big smile. “Best Christmas ever,” he murmured, and honestly, for all of them — it kind of was.

On the drive home, Betsy fell asleep in her car seat, Ryan dozed off beside her, and the radio hummed softly. Michelle glanced at Carla through the rear-view mirror, catching her quietly watching Lisa as she drove; a look full of affection, comfort, and something deeper that didn’t need words.

Michelle smiled faintly and looked out the window, the city lights reflecting on the glass. After all the years and all the heartbreaks, it was good to see her best friend finally finding her way back to happiness.

----

Part I Christmas with the Swains and friends

“Betsy!” Lisa called as she turned the SUV onto their driveway. “We’re home, darling.”

Her daughter stirred in her car seat at the back, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she clutched Bear tightly in her arms. She’d fallen asleep mid-sentence not twenty minutes ago.

Ryan blinked himself awake when Michelle reached back and gently shook his shoulder. “Wakey, wakey, sleepyheads. We’re home,” Michelle announced, her voice teasingly bright for someone who’d nearly bruised her tailbone an hour ago.

As they climbed out of the car, the smell of roasted turkey and warm spices drifted through the crisp winter air unmistakably Christmas.

Inside, the Swain house buzzed with life. Sally had helped Glenda with the mince pies and red cabbage, while Kevin was out back with David in their glass-walled outdoor kitchen, pretending they were hosting MasterChef: Festive Edition. The turkey was roasting, the lamb resting, and Glenda’s famous Christmas pudding sat cooling beside a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes. Sophie Webster, fresh from university, had baked a perfectly frosted carrot cake for Betsy after Glenda mentioned it was her favourite.

When the group stepped inside they took their boots off and hung their jackets then proceeded into the open-plan kitchen, dining, and living area which glowed with the Christmas warmth. The extendable table had been stretched to it's full capacity, ready to host a feast .

Lisa squeezed Carla’s hand as they entered, and Carla smiled, quietly taking in the hum of conversation and the smell of home cooking.

“Lisa, darling!” came a bright, familiar voice. Sally Metcalfe appeared in a rush of perfume and sequins, her jumper glittering like an overdecorated Christmas tree. She enveloped Lisa in a hug before immediately clocking the hand Lisa was holding. Her eyes flicked down, then up again, smile widening with curiosity that could power the national grid.

“And who are your friends?” she asked, her tone friendly but her eyes scanning the trio like she was conducting an informal background check.

"I'm not Grammy yet! My Sophie’s still far too young for that.” She wagged a playful finger at the little girl, then softened her gesture by ruffling Betsy’s curls, making the child giggle in delight.

Sally turned her attention to Carla, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and that unmistakable blend of charm and nosiness. “My Sophie’s from the LGBTQ+ community, you know. I’m a very supportive ally through and through! I even sit on the parents-with-LGBTQ+ children village committee.” Her gaze, naturally drawn, flicked back down lingering just long enough to notice Lisa and Carla’s hands still intertwined, her eyebrows raising slightly in subtle but obvious approval.

From the other side of the room, Sophie Webster groaned loudly at her mum’s enthusiastic preaching. Her mum was impossible; she’d out her to the whole world without her consent if she could.

Lisa snorted softly at Sophie’s obvious frustration, then let out a quiet sigh. She’d heard that speech from Sally more times than she could count.

“Sally, this is Dr. Carla Connor,” Lisa said, keeping her tone measured and even. “Her cousin and best friend, Michelle Connor, and Michelle's son Ryan.”

“Oh, I'm Sally Metcalfe,” she announced her name again brightly, smiling a touch too eagerly as if trying to impress the doctor and her friends. Her hand fluttered up to push a barely-there strand of short hair behind her ear.

“We heard. Lisa already said,” Michelle muttered under her breath, her tone dry as ever and just loud enough for Carla and Lisa to hear. Both women snorted, quickly disguising their laughter as polite coughs.

Completely oblivious, Sally pressed on. “Doctor! How marvellous!” she exclaimed, gripping Carla’s hand with far too much enthusiasm. “Medical?”

“Yes,” Carla replied, offering a composed smile. “I’m a surgeon at the Royal London Hospital.”

“Oh, how impressive!" Sally’s eyes widened in visible admiration. “My goodness, we don’t get many surgeons around here!”

Michelle murmured, “Lucky for the locals, then,” earning another muffled laugh from Carla while Lisa discreetly elbowed her side in warning.

"Brains and beauty. Lisa, where do you keep finding these people?” Sally continued,

Lisa groaned softly. “Sally…”

“What?” Sally said, pretending innocence. “I’m only saying what everyone’s thinking!”

Ryan snorted into his hand. Michelle bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

Carla’s lips twitched into a restrained smile as she glanced at Lisa. “She’s… lively.”

“That’s one word for it,” Lisa murmured back.

Michelle leaned in. “Ten quid says she’s already told the rest of the neighbours a surgeon from London’s joined Christmas dinner.”

Carla smirked. “Twenty says she’s already guessed I’m queer and made peace with it before dessert.”

Glenda appeared just then, saving the moment like a well-timed referee. “Sally, stop interrogating the guests and come check the gravy before it bubbles over!”

Sally scoffed. “I wasn’t interrogating! Just making conversation!” she called as she hurried toward the kitchen.

As soon as she was gone, Lisa exhaled and muttered, “You’ve officially survived your first Sally Metcalfe encounter. That deserves a medal.”

“Or a drink,” Michelle added, taking off her gloves. “Preferably both.”

Everyone laughed, even Ryan, who was still red-faced from holding back his earlier snort.

Glenda returned with a tray of mulled wine, smiling warmly. “Come on, everyone. Sit, relax, and warm up before dinner’s ready.”

Lisa nudged Carla gently as they followed the others toward the sofa. “See? Piece of cake.”

Carla smiled, brushing Lisa’s hand lightly. “If that was cake, it’s the kind with dynamite inside.”

Lisa laughed under her breath, eyes soft. “Welcome to Christmas at the Swains.”

Chapter Text

Part II Christmas with the Swains and Friends

The Swain house buzzed with voices alongside silverware on the lengthy dining table. Aromas of roasted turkey, lamb, mince pie, and cinnamon pudding mingled, creating a cozy festive atmosphere. Glenda looked pleased as she rearranged a dish on the centre of the table.

“Now, everyone tuck in before it gets cold!” she announced brightly.

“Smells incredible, Mrs. Swain,” Michelle said sincerely as she slid into the chair beside Carla. “Proper home cooking. You don’t get this much anymore.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, love. It’s Glenda, please and help yourself to anything you fancy,” Glenda said squeezing Michelle's shoulder, clearly delighted.

That evening, David requested Kevin slice the turkey while Sally watched closely from the table’s foot, a bit bossy about it. “Kevin, thin slices love; how it looks is key!” she prompted.

“You can host next time, at our place,” Kevin grumbled, which got a soft laugh out of David Swain and Carla who heard the exchange as she passed.

Lisa had Carla on one side and Betsy squeezed in beside her and next to her grandma. It was comfortable; chuckles mixed with glass chimes while the rain softened to a whisper.

Sally, naturally, couldn’t resist steering conversation. “So, Carla, you’re a surgeon? Good heavens, that must be so stressful. I’d faint just looking at a scalpel.” She exaggerated. 

A small smile touched Carla’s lips, she’d answered these things countless times. Her hand moved toward the spoon. “It demands a lot,” she offered, “however it gives back just as much.”

Michelle chimed in before anyone could stop her. “You should see her when she’s in work mode, terrifying. You’d think she’s about to perform open heart surgery even when she’s just slicing bread.”

Carla turned, deadpan. “That’s because you can’t slice bread without turning it into a mess of bread crumbs.” She said chuckling.

Lisa’s lips twitched and Glenda tried not to laugh, while David covered a smile behind his napkin.

Sally blinked, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Oh, you two must be such fun at dinner parties.”

Lisa nudged Carla’s knee under the table, amused. “Don’t mind her, they’ve been bickering since the skating rink.”

Glenda chuckled fondly. “Sounds like a proper family dinner already.”

Across the table, Sophie groaned. “Mum, please don’t start interviewing people again.”

“I’m not interviewing!” Sally protested, spoon halfway to her mouth. “I’m just taking an interest. It’s not every day we have a highly skilled surgeon joining us for Christmas dinner. Royal London Hospital, wasn’t it?”

A small smile touched Carla’s lips as she gave a quick nod. “Indeed,” she said.

“Oh, my goodness. So impressive! I wouldn’t know where to start in a hospital. I can barely handle paper cuts,” Sally went on, full of earnest energy. “And Lisa tells me you live in London! So cosmopolitan.”

"Of course she lives in London mum, where else would she be living if her work was there too?" Sophie asked her mum incredulously. “And that’s because people spend nearly a decade learning to be a doctor, Mum. You don’t just become one over gossiping and LGBTQ+ rallies,” Sophie said flatly, making Kevin, Glenda, Ryan, and David snort and laugh.

Sally’s jaw dropped, looking mildly offended. “Sophie! Honestly, that’s not what I meant!”

A chuckle almost escaped Kevin as he settled into his seat. “Looks like she’s one step ahead of you love,” he offered with a wink

A little annoyed, Sally still managed a smile, quietly observing that everyone seemed to be cracking jokes

“Here we go,” Michelle breathed to Carla, “she’s about to launch into her life story.”

A smile tugged at Carla’s mouth, though she bit down on her lips. Her gaze sparkled. "Quite the hubbub," she offered, choosing words with care.

Sally wasn't one to be deterred though, she tilted forward, propping up her face. "So, still unattached? Or…?"

Her question felt sharp, considering she seemed to have misplaced any memory of Lisa and Carla’s cozy moment earlier when they came in, holding hands. Nevertheless, a spark in her gaze betrayed genuine interest.

"Mum," Sophie breathed, face burning with shame.

A breath escaped Lisa, quick like a sigh. “Sally.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Carla’s face, though she recovered fast. “Not quite,” she offered, glancing at Lisa,  a brief look, yet brimming with something unspoken. Lisa gave her a quick wink and a squeeze of her knee in return.

Sally pressed on, either missing it entirely or pretending to. “Oh, how lovely! Well, you must tell me all about London. My cousin once went to Wimbledon... said it was very posh.” She suddenly adopted an exaggerated posh accent, causing Lisa, Michelle, and Carla to snort at the display. “But I suppose you’re more into the medical side than the tennis crowd, hmm?”

Michelle smirked. “Oh, she’s got great hands for either.”

A sip of wine went wrong for Carla; she coughed, hand flying to her mouth. Heads turned, though she dismissed their concern with a wave. Her eyes stung, not from the wine, rather an attempt to stifle laughter.

A little crease formed between Sally’s eyebrows; her fork hung suspended. “Tennis, really?” She asked, totally impressed. 

A flat look crossed Michelle’s face as she gave a single nod. “Okay,” she said, her expression deadpan, "Lets go with that." 

Across the table, Lisa tried to stifle a laugh but failed, her quiet chuckle escaping into her wineglass. She tilted her head down to hide the grin, shoulders shaking just enough to give her away.

Carla, recovering, shot Michelle a warning look from over the rim of her glass, firm but half-amused. Michelle only lifted her brows and winked, looking far too pleased with herself.

Glenda, clearly sensing the moment teetering between polite dinner conversation and mayhem, reached forward with a calm smile and slid the gravy boat toward Lisa. “Love, would you pass the roast potatoes?”

"Of course,” Lisa offered, relieved someone had changed the subject. She shifted forward, passing the bowl toward Carla. Their fingers met, a quick graze, barely there, yet they each felt it.

Carla’s fingers stilled for half a second before she accepted the dish, her lips curving in a small, private smile. Lisa noticed it, just barely, before turning back toward her plate to keep the moment from drawing attention.

Kevin reached for the carrots, pretending not to notice the chemistry between the two women, though his eyes flicked between them once before he cleared his throat. Michelle, meanwhile, was busy buttering another roll, humming quietly far too innocent to be trusted.

A quiet descended, filled with talk alongside silverware sounds, however, something else pulsed beneath, unsaid yet noticeable, brimming with energy.

Little Betsy cheerfully loaded her plate with bits and pieces of food closer to her. “Can I have more carrots, Dr. Connor?” she asked, her voice bright and polite as she balanced her fork in one hand, her napkin already sliding halfway off her lap.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Carla said warmly, leaning over Lisa to steady the serving bowl. She helped Betsy spoon some on, careful not to spill gravy on the tablecloth. “You’ll turn into a rabbit before pudding at this rate.”

Betsy giggled, unfazed, and started eating again with full focus.

“Better than Mum,” Ryan muttered, reaching for the salt. “She’s just had Yorkshire pudding and gravy.”

Michelle didn’t even look up. She lifted her fork like a judge passing a ruling. “Balance, son. That’s what keeps me young.”

A grin touched Carla’s lips instantly. “That, however, also includes refusing to see things as they are.”

The table erupted in giggles. Kevin even chuckled, though he quickly disguised it as a cough.

Sally blinked again, caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “Honestly, you both crack me up,” she remarked, looking between Carla and Michelle as if trying to decide whether they were joking or half serious.

Lisa pressed her lips together, fighting back a smile, and leaned slightly toward Carla. “Behave,” she murmured under her breath, just low enough not to carry.

Carla tilted her head, her eyes glinting with a quiet dare. Her reply came soft and steady. “You started it.”

"Me? Its's you and Michelle over there. I wasn't even talking." Lisa defended.

She shot Carla a look that was part warning, part affection, before turning her attention back to Betsy, who was now asking Glenda whether carrots counted as dessert if you ate enough of them. 

A comfortable din rose from forks scraping plates alongside quiet chatter; a familiar, cozy scene. Briefly, things felt simple; each person settled back into the usual flow at mealtime.

Glenda looked around the table with visible warmth. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I think this might be one of the nicest Christmas dinners we’ve had in a long time.”

Lisa smiled softly. “Yeah… it really is.”

Carla glanced at Lisa, candlelight dancing on the woman's bright gray greenish eyes. When their eyes met, the quiet moment lingered between them, gentle but full of meaning.

----

After the meal, the table resembled a post-fight scene; scattered dishes, lingering wine. Glenda with Carla's help started making room for desserts as scents of cinnamon, brandy, then warm baking sugar drifted through the air. A gentle chorus arose from scraping chairs alongside David’s protest that he was full; nevertheless, he took another slice of turkey when his wife offered.

The flaming Christmas pudding stole everyone’s attention the moment Glenda brought it out. The flame flickered and burned blue for several seconds, casting faint shadows across everyone’s faces as they leaned in.

“Oh, look at that! I told Glenda to add more brandy this year,” Sally declared proudly, as if she’d been part of the pudding cooking process. 

Which Glenda totally agreed with in theory, but didn’t follow through as she had both little Betsy and young Ryan to consider. 

“She’s gearing up to claim ownership of Christmas,” Michelle murmured to Carla, keeping her voice a secret.

Wine threatened to bubble from Carla’s mouth; she clamped her lips shut, fighting a spray.

Betsy gasped, eyes wide. “It’s on fire, Grandma!”

“Just a touch of holiday magic, darling,” Glenda offered, her voice steady as she placed the plate gently on the table.

David chuckled as he fetched a serving spoon. “Magic or not, someone better blow it out before we lose the curtains.”

“Don’t be dramatic, David,” Glenda remarked while portioning out thick cuts.

Kevin leaned forward, smirking. “Speak for yourself, I’m keeping the extinguisher handy.”

Laughter filled the space, easing the formality of the meal. Once the pudding was eaten, Sophie’s carrot cake made its round next. The air was thick with the smell of warm spice and sugar, and the rain against the windows gave the whole room a quiet hum.

After dessert, shoes were kicked off, ties loosened, and cushions rearranged. Michelle dropped into the nearest armchair with a groan. “If I eat one more mince pie, someone’s rolling me out of here.”

Ryan didn’t look up from his phone. “Don’t look at me. I’m full.”

Sally perched herself on the edge of the sofa, already chatting again. “You know, Glenda, we’re doing a calendar fundraiser next year for our parents with LGBTQ+ children group. You’d make a lovely ally photo, maybe holding a rainbow umbrella!”

Michelle immediately pounced. “Carla should model too. Imagine it...” she said, lifting her hands in front of her face as if framing a magazine cover. “‘Scalpel and Sass: saving lives, serving looks.’”

A laugh burst from Lisa, almost sending wine sloshing over the rim of her glass and Carla sitting besides her groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Why do I even talk to you?” She asked her friend.

“Because no one puts up with me, really,” Michelle offered sweetly. 

Carla smiled, shaking her head.

Lisa's arm casually draped over the backrest near Carla's shoulder. Occasionally their hands met; a light touch, recognized instantly, held without urgency. The closeness wasn’t deliberate, but neither of them moved away.

A low hum of voices filled the room, blending warmth and contentment. Kevin and David stood near the fireplace, deep in discussion about the upcoming football season, their tones alternating between light banter and mock seriousness. In the dining room area, Michelle insisted on collecting the dessert plates, waving off Glenda’s offers of help until Lisa joined her with a knowing smile and started stacking them neatly in the dish washer.

Across the room, Betsy shuffled closer to Carla, dragging her little blanket with her. Without a word, she climbed onto Carla’s lap and nestled against her chest, her thumb slipping into her mouth as her eyes grew heavier by the second. Carla adjusted her arms around the small girl, one hand supporting her back while the other rested gently against her leg. Betsy gave a soft sigh and melted into her, completely spent from the day’s excitement; the market, the skating, the noise, and laughter.

Carla glanced down at the child, a faint smile touching her lips. There was something grounding about the quiet trust of a half asleep four year-old. She brushed a stray curl from Betsy’s forehead, careful not to wake her, and leaned back slightly, letting the calm of the moment settle over her.

Lisa shook her head, voice low. “Nothing. Just… nice seeing you like this again.”

Before either could say more, Michelle interrupted from across the room. “Oi, lovebirds! who’s on big pots duty? Definitely not this girl.””

Lisa grabbed a cushion and tossed it at her. “You’re hopeless.”

Michelle caught it mid-air, grinning. “But you love me.”

Sally glanced over at the two women as something finally clicked. She’d seen them holding hands before, but assumed they were just close friends. Now, with Michelle’s teasing confirming what she hadn’t dared to assume, she felt a bit daft for not noticing the way they looked at each other. “I’ll do them,” she said to Michelle.

"Thank you, Sally." Lisa said.

Carla exhaled a soft laugh, leaning back into the sofa. “You’re surrounded by trouble.”

Lisa turned her head slightly toward her. “And I wouldn't trade it.”

The laughter lingered, mingling with the sound of rain against the window and the steady crackle of the fire. No one seemed eager to move, and for a moment, it felt as if time itself had paused to let the evening breathe.

-----

The faint smell of brandy and pudding still hung in the air. Then Glenda reappeared, clutching an old Scrabble set, the corners taped and edges faded from years of use.

David positioned himself near the fire, the heavy Oxford English Dictionary balanced on his lap. Kevin sat beside him, beer in hand, already grinning at the first sign of mischief.

“All right, teams of two,” Glenda announced, clapping her hands once for attention. “Carla and Michelle, since you’re both new to our Scrabble wars, you’ll be partners. Sally and Lisa...” she paused, smirking mischievously, “Actually, let’s change it up. Michelle will be paired with Sally, and we’ll call you Team Creative geniuses.” She turned to her daughter and Carla. “That means you two will be a team.”

“That seems a bit unfair,” Ryan cut in, snickering. “Lisa’s an airline captain, which makes me believe she’s just as smart as Auntie C, who’s a doctor. Mum’s a businesswoman, yeah, but I don’t think she and Sally together can beat a doctor and captain combo.”

Both Sally and Michelle turned to him, equally offended.

“And what makes you think we aren’t as smart as the two of them?” Michelle shot back, gesturing toward Lisa and Carla.

“Excuse me,” Sally said, lifting her chin, “I happen to have an excellent vocabulary.” She started tidying up the letter bag like it was a sacred ritual.

“Yeah words she’s made up over the years,” Sophie muttered from the sofa without glancing up from her phone.

“Proper rules,” Glenda said firmly. “No imaginary words, no accents, and no slang from… tok tik.”

That set both Sophie and Ryan off; they burst out laughing.

“She says that like she even knows what TikTok is,” Sophie whispered to Ryan. “Tok Tik?”

Ryan nearly doubled over, clutching his stomach.

Carla, who had been quietly watching the exchange with a faint smile tugging at her lips, leaned back slightly in her chair. Her eyes flicked between Ryan and Sophie, noting the energy and pride in the younger generation as they boasted about their digital literacy. “You young people think you’re the only ones who’ve been savvy with social media,” she said, poking a finger lightly at Ryan. “Some of you weren’t even born when we had MySpace.” Her tone was playful, but there was a hint of satisfaction in reminding them that experience counted for something.

“Yeah, and Facebook,” Michelle added, her voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and amusement, as though she were pointing out the generational bridge they had all crossed.

Ryan leaned back, smirking, clearly enjoying the playful challenge. “Enough said, meaning we aren't archaic as you all are.”

Sophie laughed, glancing between Carla, Michelle, and Ryan. The laugh was easy, appreciative of the back-and-forth, and the small moment of connection across generations made the room feel lively without anyone needing to dominate the conversation.

The game began harmlessly enough; simple and friendly words like cake, frost, and joy filled the board as everyone eased into the rhythm. Betsy, who had been on her way to deep sleep minutes ago, perked right up once she heard the laughter ripple around the room. She wriggled off Carla's lap and plopped herself on the rug, legs crossed, taking her new role very seriously. With both hands, she began handing tiles to her mum and Carla, whispering the letters out loud as though they were top-secret codes. Every time Carla thanked her, Betsy grinned proudly, convinced she was helping them win.

The atmosphere was warm and relaxed chatter, the fire crackling, and the occasional clink of a glass being set down. Then, just as Lisa was plotting a seven-letter word, Sally suddenly leaned forward, eyes wide with revelation.

“Right! I’ve got one!” she declared, slapping her tiles onto the board. “Jingletude! Triple word score!”

Everyone stopped.

Lisa froze mid reach, frowning. “Sorry, what?”

“Jingletude,” Sally repeated, enunciating each letter like she was defending a dissertation. “It’s the attitude of being jingly and cheerful at Christmas. Like me!”

There was a pause. Then Michelle clapped slowly and dramatically. “That’s impressive,” she said, nodding as if she’d just witnessed something profound. “Totally fictional, but impressive.”

“It’s not fictional, it’s creative,” Sally countered, crossing her arms. “Language evolves. Don’t be so rigid.”

David leaned over from the other side of the table, squinting at the board. “Pretty sure Shakespeare’s rolling in his grave right now.”

Glenda, acting as the self-appointed referee, reached for the worn dictionary beside her. “Let’s see if this ‘jingletude’ has evolved enough to be in print, shall we?” She flipped through the pages with exaggerated precision. “Nope. Not a single jingle or tude combined anywhere. Denied.”

“Biased!” Sally said, pointing at her. “You were always strict with spellings when we were kids.”

Glenda arched an eyebrow, calm but clearly entertained. “That’s because I always aced my spellings,” she said, closing the dictionary with deliberate care. “And later became a teacher, not a fantasy linguist.” She shut it with a firm thud, the sound echoing lightly across the table.

Sally huffed, crossing her arms with mock irritation. Michelle smirked into her drink, while Lisa and Carla exchanged a quick, amused look and it was clear this wasn’t the first time Glenda had won an argument like that.

Lisa leaned closer to Carla and whispered, lips barely moving, “We’re in for a long night ahead.”

Carla snorted softly, shaking her head. “And I thought doctors’ conferences dragged on.”

Michelle, meanwhile, had already started arranging her next play... Festivocity grinning like she’d just solved a world problem.

The chaos was only beginning.

David sighed, leaning forward and flipping open the dictionary like a man preparing for battle. “Let’s see… Festival... Festivity... Festivocity…” He ran his finger down the column. “Nope. No Festivocity either.” He looked up at Team Creative, unimpressed.

Sally’s mouth fell open. “Well, that’s a failure of the dictionary, not us,” she said, indignant.

Kevin snorted from his seat. “Minus ten points for festive imagination.”

“Minus ten?!” Sally’s voice rose an octave. “That’s outrageous! The words made sense in our spirits.”

Michelle, who was now visibly tipsy, burst out laughing at Sally’s phrasing. “Spirits, I like that!” she said between giggles, holding her hand up for a high five. Sally only blinked at her, not catching the gesture, and Michelle left her hand hanging mid-air, shrugging.

“Spirit doesn’t count on a scorecard, love,” Glenda said dryly, keeping the tone of referee steady.

Carla calmly placed her tiles down on the board. “Encephalitis,” she announced. “Triple word.” Her tone was smug but not unkind.

Sally squinted at the word. “That is not a word,” she said, struggling even to pronounce it.

David was already checking. Carla beat him to it. “It’s inflammation of the brain, usually caused by a virus symptoms are headache, neck pain, drowsiness, nausea, fever,” she listed smoothly, like she was back in a lecture hall.

David looked up from the page. “She’s right. It’s here.” He turned the dictionary for everyone to see.

Sally and Michelle groaned in unison. “Fine,” Michelle muttered, sulking into her glass.

“Fine, my turn,” she added, leaning forward again, all mock determination. “Hangxiety. The emotional regret that comes after a night out. Very real. Very relevant.”

Carla sighed. “That’s not in the dictionary either.”

“It should be,” Michelle shot back. “Everyone’s had hangxiety.”

Lisa laughed. “That’s not a real word, it’s just a feeling.”

“Exactly!” Michelle said, snapping her fingers. “Feelings deserve representation.”

David flipped through the pages again. “Hangover, yes. Anxiety, yes. Hangxiety... no chance.”

Michelle slumped back. “This game’s stuck in the dark ages.”

“Dark ages is where spelling came from,” Glenda replied, with a small smile.

Carla folded her arms. “Michelle, we’re playing Scrabble, not starting a linguistic revolution.”

Michelle pointed at her. “You’re a doctor, Carla. I’m an artist and businesswoman. I work with abstract concepts.”

Kevin nearly spat out his drink laughing.

Lisa took her turn calmly, placing her tiles with precision. “Aeronautics,” she said, counting quietly. “Eleven letters. Triple word.”

Glenda leaned forward, impressed. “That’s a proper word, before anyone asks.” She looked at Carla with a smirk. “That’s how it’s done.”

“Typical engineer,” Michelle muttered, half under her breath. “All logic, no drama.”

Lisa smirked. “That’s why I land planes and win board games.”

Carla smiled beside her. “Remind me never to compete against you.”

Lisa turned her head, her voice lower, warmer. “Remind me to always be on your team. We make a great team.” She gave a small wink, and Carla blushed, a quiet smile deepened, the tiles momentarily forgotten.

The laughter picked up again as Sally proudly laid down her next inventions: “Snugglation,” “Cozifying,” and “Festivify.” Each time, David reached for the dictionary with deliberate care, flipping pages slowly, while Glenda leaned forward slightly, peering over her glasses as she delivered the final verdict with the authority of decades spent in classrooms.

Sally’s eyes sparkled with mischief and frustration at the repeated denials. Her hands moved emphatically as she tried to argue, tilting tiles, nudging the board, clearly invested in defending her creations.

“Honestly, Sally,” Glenda said, shaking her head, her tone warm but firm, “you remind me of my Year Tens. Always thought if they said something confidently enough, I’d give them credit.”

Sally crossed her arms, her cheeks pink with determination. “Confidence counts,” she insisted.

“No, mum,” Sophie retorted from her quiet corner, finally paying attention as the drama escalated. Her voice carried a mix of teasing and authority. “You’re just not that good in vocabulary.”

Kevin snorted, shaking his head at the familiar bickering between his daughter and wife, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“In drama class, maybe,” Glenda added, an almost imperceptible smirk on her face, her eyes softening as she watched the women squabble good-naturedly.

Carla laughed outright, leaning slightly toward Lisa, who glanced at her, the corners of her mouth twitching in quiet amusement. The sound seemed to pull Lisa in, an unspoken acknowledgment of comfort and the old shared history between them.

By the end, the board was a stark contrast: one side neat, strategic, and precise; the other scattered with colorful attempts at creativity, letters crisscrossing and overlapping in ways that only the inventor could justify.

“All right,” Glenda said, squinting as she tallied the points, her voice calm and methodical. “Lisa and Carla, two hundred thirty-eight. Sally and Michelle, assuming we don’t count jingletude, hangxiety, snugglation, festivocity, cozifying, or festivify, your total is one hundred and four.”

Sally’s jaw dropped, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “Outrageous!” she exclaimed. “No imagination in this house. We feel cheated.”

Michelle, still processing the score, leaned back in her chair, her expression a mixture of amusement and mild frustration, trying to coordinate her inebriated brain with the reality of the game outcome.

“You’ve got plenty of imagination,” David said, closing the dictionary with a soft thud, the gesture final. “Just not any actual words.”

Michelle stretched her arms behind her head, tilting back against the chair, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I call that a moral victory,” she said, finally satisfied with her own reasoning.

Carla shook her head slightly, amusement still dancing in her eyes, and smiled. “We call that losing gracefully.” She reached for the scorecard, jotting the final tally down, her fingers brushing Lisa’s briefly, unnoticed, adding a subtle layer of warmth to the competitive moment

Kevin clapped once, the sound sharp in the warm room. “Tea, anyone? Before Sally starts a petition to the Oxford committee.” He leaned back slightly, stretching his shoulders and giving a glance around the table, watching the reactions ripple through the group.

“I just might,” Sally said stubbornly, crossing her arms and tapping her foot lightly, her indignation more performative than genuine as she settled back into her chair.

Glenda began gathering the Scrabble tiles, her movements deliberate and practiced. She stacked them neatly, her hands steady despite the playful chaos of the evening. Each tile clicked softly against the wood as she counted them, her eyes briefly meeting David’s across the room. He nodded slightly, his expression calm but firm, the quiet authority of someone who had spent the night refereeing disputes and confirming every invented word’s demise.

“Or you could learn the existing ones,” Glenda said with gentle finality, her voice carrying just enough amusement to soften the reprimand.

“Oh no,” Sally said, lifting her chin with mock defiance, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’m a visionary.” She shifted in her seat, letting her weight settle more comfortably against the arm of the sofa, her eyes darting to Michelle for silent encouragement.

Michelle raised her glass with a flourish, tipping it toward Sally in celebration. “To the visionaries of nonsense.” She laughed loudly, the sound loose and unrestrained, leaning back into the cushions as if to savor the victory of her team’s creative mischief.

David raised his own cup, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “To the referees with patience.” He looked briefly at Glenda, and they shared a small, knowing glance — the acknowledgment of surviving yet another round of inventive vocabulary.

Lisa’s gaze moved toward Carla, her eyes warm, tracking the subtle lines of concentration and satisfaction on her face. “And to Team Sanity.” The words were soft, carried with an intimacy that only Carla could feel fully in the midst of the group’s noise.

Carla smirked, tilting her head slightly, the gesture light but deliberate. “I’ll toast to that. Winners!” She raised her glass in quiet solidarity, letting her hand brush lightly against Lisa’s as she set it down again.

The laughter rolled through the room once more, steady and genuine, punctuated by the occasional clink of a cup being set on a saucer. Outside, the earlier rain had turned to light snow, dusting the windows with soft flakes that barely disturbed the warmth inside. No one moved to leave; everyone lingered in the ease of shared company, the familiar rhythm of teasing, quiet glances, and easy conversation stretching the night.

Betsy, finally curled on Carla’s lap, had drifted into a light, contented sleep. Her little hand rested lightly on Carla’s chest, her breathing soft and steady. Carla held her gently, shifting her slightly to keep her comfortable without waking her, her own expression soft and patient.

Lisa watched them quietly from the sofa, noting how naturally Betsy had gravitated toward Carla. It wasn’t that she felt replaced far from it. Instead, she felt something reassuring: that Carla had found her place here, that Betsy had accepted her without hesitation. There was a calm in Lisa’s chest she hadn’t expected, a sense that this was right, that Carla belonged here with them. 

She allowed herself a small, private smile, a quiet hope threading through her thoughts. Perhaps this was the beginning of something steady, something real between them; Carla, Betsy, and her. It was a comforting feeling, warm and grounded, one that made the soft hum of conversation and the low crackle of the fire feel even more like home.

Carla gazed at Lisa, her green eyes catching the firelight as she smiled softly. "You are so pretty," she whispered, the tone low and intimate, adding a playful wink.

Lisa felt heat rise to her cheeks, caught off guard by the directness, and by how natural it felt to be the one being observed. She met Carla’s look steadily, voice barely above a murmur. "So, are you."

For a moment, neither moved, letting the quiet hum of the room fill the space between them, the soft breathing of Betsy, the fading clink of cups, the muted fire crackle. Lisa felt a calm certainty settle in her chest. This wasn’t just fleeting attention. Carla belonged here.

She shifted slightly on the sofa, her arm brushing lightly against Carla’s as if by accident, a small connection that felt deliberate enough to be meaningful. Carla’s smile widened just slightly, catching the subtle contact, and the two shared a silent acknowledgment of the bond slowly forming between them.

The room remained warm and calm, the night stretched out comfortably around them, carrying the promise of more shared mornings and quiet moments to come.

Chapter Text

The living room glowed with soft morning light and the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls drifted through the air. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, covered in mismatched ornaments, glittery baubles, and a slightly crooked star that Betsy had insisted on placing herself. Presents wrapped in Santa and winter themed paper were still snug under the tree. Christmas music played quietly from David’s old stereo while the fireplace crackled softly. From the kitchen, Glenda’s voice could be heard humming along to the tunes as she baked and fried breakfast.

Betsy was already bouncing in place when everyone slowly made their way downstairs after the late, laughter filled Christmas night. Her curls were wild and her Christmas pajamas rumpled from sleep. She and Glenda were the most awake and cheerful people in the house that morning. Her bright blue eyes darted between the gifts under the tree like she was trying to decide on the best plan of attack.

“Someone looks ready to rip the presents open,” Ryan said, ruffling the little girl’s curls before sinking his lanky frame onto the couch.

His mum and Carla followed next, Michelle reaching out to pat Betsy’s curly head lightly.

“Good morning, little madam,” Michelle greeted with a smile.

“Good morning, Michelle,” Betsy replied politely.

Betsy ran straight to Carla, who scooped her up easily, hugging her close. “Morning there, Dr. Swain. Are you done with the hospital rounds today?” Carla asked, looking into the little girl’s bright blue eyes.

Betsy nodded seriously. “I don’t think they need any checkups today, Dr. Connor.” Her mind was fixed on one thing and one thing only, presents. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she  waited impatiently for everyone to gather in the living room so she could tear into the wrapping paper. She’d gone to bed thinking about the gifts and dreamt about them all night. Even her stuffed animals, who were usually due for morning checkups, would have to wait.

Lisa appeared last, wearing a black and white Nike sweatsuit that looked slightly oversized on her. “Good morning, Dad. Morning, girls and boy,” she greeted, leaning over to kiss the top of David’s head and then Betsy’s as the little girl had migrated into her grandpa’s lap when Carla went to get coffee.

“Morning, pumpkin,” David said, handing Betsy a rectangular box wrapped in blue Santa paper. “This one’s from Grandma and me.”

Everyone watched as Betsy tore into it with surgical precision, revealing a Smurfette pajama set which was bright blue with glittery accents and a matching Smurfette doll tucked inside.

Her face lit up. “I need to change! Right now!” she announced, clutching the pajamas to her chest, her whole tiny body vibrating with excitement.

Glenda laughed at her granddaughter’s display. “You just woke up, Betsy love.”

“But Smurfette pajamas are better than snowflakes,” she whined.

“Listen, nugget,” Lisa said gently, “how about we finish opening presents, have breakfast, and then you can go change after your shower, hmm?”

Betsy nodded, settling back into her grandpa’s arms. She was easy to convince; after all, she didn’t want to miss a single moment of the presents still waiting under the tree.

Next came a large box from Lisa. Betsy opened it to find a two foot tall doll dressed in a miniature version of Lisa’s airline captain uniform, navy jacket and pants, silver buttons, and even a tiny embroidered name tag. A matching captain’s hat for Betsy was included.

She gasped. “She’s me! But also Mummy!” she exclaimed, thrilled.

Everyone around her oohed and laughed at her excitement.

Lisa smiled. “Yes, she’s Captain Betsy,” she agreed. She remembered walking into her bedroom one morning after a shower, ready to head to work, only to find Betsy standing in front of the mirror, her little head swallowed by the captain’s hat laid out on the bed with her uniform.

“Thank you, Mummy!” Betsy said, launching herself into Lisa’s arms. Then she picked up the hat, placed it slightly crooked on her head, and curtsied to the room before inviting herself on Carla's lap.

Carla handed her a small silver wrapped box. “This one’s from me, Dr. Swain,” she whispered to the little girl.

Betsy opened it carefully, eyes wide. Inside was a baby iPad, protected by a bright blue Smurfette case with little ears and a glittery bow.

“Wow!” Her mouth dropped open. She glanced up at Carla in disbelief. “Is this for me?” she asked, hardly believing it.

Carla nodded. “I thought you might need something to keep track of all your patients.”

Betsy squealed and threw her arms around the doctor's neck and hugged her tightly. “You’re the best doctor ever!”

Then she turned to the room, beaming. “This is the best Christmas ever!”

Ryan handed her another medium-sized box. “Here, this is from Mum and me. Auntie C said you love being a doctor, so…”

Betsy opened it to find a teddy bear in a white doctor’s coat with a light blue stethoscope around its neck. The name tag on the pocket read Dr. Bear.

“Wow!” Betsy said, speechless. “He’s going to be my assistant from today onwards!” She hugged both Ryan and Michelle tightly.

The rest of the gifts; books, puzzles, dolls were opened with polite excitement, but none topped the Smurfette theme ones from pajamas, Smurfette cased iPad,  Dr. Bear and Captain Betsy. She lined them up neatly on the sofa and sat between them like royalty.

Lisa leaned over to Carla and whispered, “You’ve officially won Christmas, babe,” She said teasing her as they watched Betsy tap on the iPad with serious concentration. “I wonder what she’s doing,” she snorted.

Carla smiled. “I just followed the theme,” she said with a shrug. “And don’t worry, the baby iPads come already set with child safety features. She can’t open anything else unless you change the settings on it.” She paused, watching Betsy carefully. “She’s obsessed with the Smurfette theme,” she noted, amused, as Betsy placed her Smurfette doll on her lap and used Dr. Bear’s stethoscope to check her vitals.

Glenda chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. She’s been obsessed since she saw the movie. We’ve watched it at least twenty times.”

David groaned. “I know every line by heart now. And that Rihanna theme song friend something...it keeps ringing in my ears for days after watching the movie.” He complained good naturedly. 

They all laughed.

Betsy was already deep in her new game, tapping confidently on the iPad as she set up “Smurfette Hospital,” which Carla had drawn for her using the accompanying iPen. Rabbit and the old Bear were waiting for checkups, and Captain Betsy was, of course, the new head nurse in charge.

Ryan received the latest iPhone from Carla, and Michelle was handed a necklace. Carla herself got a new Apple Watch from Michelle and Ryan, though Ryan had been eyeing it the moment Carla wore it. Lisa unwrapped a pair of diamond studs from Carla, looking effortlessly elegant, while Carla had received the emerald earrings Lisa had inherited from her maternal grandmother. David and Glenda were treated to fine wine, bourbon, and gift cards from Michelle and Carla. Every person in the room had something to unwrap.

The Swains had apologized for not having gifts for Ryan and Michelle, having only learned they would be joining them at the last minute. Michelle, however, insisted that Lisa’s gift of bringing them to London was more than enough for everyone.

Carla watched it all, her heart full. She hadn’t expected this warmth or laughter. Yet here she was, in a house that wasn’t hers, surrounded by people who had welcomed her without hesitation.

Michelle and Ryan felt it too. Since Michelle’s mum passed, they’d never quite felt at home anywhere. This Christmas with the Swains felt different—like belonging.

Glenda served breakfast: homemade pastries, scrambled eggs, bacon, coffee, tea, and orange juice. The kitchen was alive with chatter and clinking plates.

-----

Later, just after dinner, an alert came through. Lisa glanced at her phone, then passed it to Carla without saying a word. The notification said flights had resumed, the grounding was officially lifted.

Carla stared at the screen for a moment, then set it down on the counter. “It’s too late now,” she said loudly.

Lisa looked up from where she was rinsing dishes. “Too late for what?” she asked, confused.

“To fly to Dublin. I mean, Michelle and Ryan are supposed to be flying out to New York in two days,” Carla said, looking at both Connors as if she weren’t quite seeing them.

Everyone burst out laughing, with Michelle and Lisa shaking their heads at Carla’s playfulness.

“What did we do to be related to her, son?” Michelle asked Ryan, smirking.

Ryan, perched on a bar stool, shrugged. “I wonder that sometimes,” he said dryly.

“Oy!” Carla exclaimed, smacking him lightly on the back of the head.

Then she stepped closer to Lisa, cupping her face in her hands, and kissed her deeply. “Thank you for all this. For bringing them to me, it means more than you’ll ever know,” she whispered into Lisa’s ear. “You brought my family to me when I couldn’t get to them.”

The light laughter in the kitchen faded slowly.

Lisa hesitated, looking up at Carla. “You were supposed to be back in London by now, weren’t you?” she whispered, their foreheads almost touching, standing toe to toe by the kitchen island with Carla’s hands still resting gently on the back of her neck.

“If I’d made it to Dublin, no. I’d be heading back tomorrow,” Carla replied, teasing lightly. “Why?” she asked, her fingers gently combing through Lisa's baby hairs on the back of her neck. 

Lisa didn’t think, she just said it. “Stay. Until New Year.” Her voice was soft, eyes fixed on Carla’s. Her arms tightly wound around Carla's lean waist. 

Carla blinked. “What?” She hadn’t expected that, even though she’d quietly hoped for it.

Lisa’s tone softened. “If you don’t have to go back to work right away, stay here with us.”

Carla looked at her for a long moment, searching her face.

Lisa’s heartbeat quickened. “I’m not saying forever, just for a few more days, if you want,” she said. But deep down, she wanted to ask her to stay for good. They hadn’t yet vocalized what all this time together meant; the kisses and the secret fumbles in Lisa's bedroom, the handholding, the way everything seemed to fit.

Carla folded her arms, leaning back against the counter. “You sure?” she asked quietly. She wanted to stay in Lisa and Betsy’s lives forever but she was still worried about the distance between their cities. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, even if Lisa didn’t see it as a problem as she was flying in and out of cities everyday. She knew Lisa would always want to spend as much time as she could with her daughter and parents whenever she was off work, and Carla didn’t want to come between that.

Lisa nodded. “I’ve got another week off and I want to spend it with Betsy, my parents… and you, hopefully.”

Carla looked down briefly, then back at her. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Lisa smiled faintly. “Neither was I.”

Carla exhaled. “I don’t know what this is, Lisa. I don’t know what we’re doing.” She admitted softly, the uncertainty weighing on her.

Lisa stepped closer. “Me neither. But I know it feels good and I don’t want it to end just because planes are flying again.” She added, “And the rest, we’ll talk about it and make it work.” She added resolutely. She wasn't about to let the woman she loves walk out of her life for another two decades again. 

“I don’t either." Carla’s voice dropped. "But I do want it all. To spend more time here… and to make it work this time around.”

They stood in the quiet kitchen, the hum of the fridge the only sound. Outside, the snow had stopped falling. Inside, something unspoken began to take shape between them; steady, genuine, and real.

----

The days between Christmas and New Year passed in a calm rhythm Carla hadn’t realized she needed.

By December 28th, it was time for Michelle and Ryan to fly out to New York. Their flight was set for 3 p.m., so they needed to leave for the airport by noon.

At 10:30 a.m., Michelle wheeled her large suitcase downstairs, Ryan following with his duffel and medium suitcase.

“Ready?” Lisa asked, helping with the bags.

“Yeah. Thank you so much for having us. It’s been one of the best Christmases we’ve had in a long time,” Michelle said, pulling Lisa into a hug. “Please take care of my best friend. Be patient with her—she loves you.”

Lisa pulled back, touched. “You’re welcome. It was a pleasure having you here. You’re family now, according to Glenda and David.”

Glenda swatted Lisa’s shoulder playfully for the “Glenda and David” comment, while everyone laughed.

The two older Swains hugged the Connors goodbye.

Betsy looked sad seeing them go. “Will you come back again?” she asked softly, looking up at Michelle and Ryan.

Michelle knelt to Betsy’s height. “Tell you what, you can all visit us in Dublin when we get back from New York. How does that sound, nugget?” she said, using Lisa’s nickname for her daughter.

“Okay!” Betsy said happily, nodding. She didn’t understand travel logistics, just that she’d see them again.

She hugged Ryan tightly. “Bye, Ryan. I’ll see you soonest,” she promised, making him blush.

“Okay, munchkin. I’ll see you soon,” he said, setting her back down. He had come to love the little girl as his own little sister the last couple of days they had been at the Swain's house. 

Lisa and Carla drove mother and son to the airport.

“Lisa, thank you for upgrading us to first class. This was the best Christmas present ever,” Michelle said from the back seat. “It’s this one’s first time flying first class,” she added, ruffling Ryan’s hair.

Lisa grinned. “Didn’t cost me a penny. It helps when you’re flying with our airline and booked directly.”

After helping them with their luggage at check-in, Lisa and Carla escorted them to the security gate.

“I love you, Chelle. Call when you land, I’ll still be awake,” Carla said, hugging them both. “Say hi to Maria and Liam, and kiss the baby for me. Tell them I’ll try to fly to New York around March for that big surgeon conference in 2026 and catching up with them over dinner will be great.”

“I will. They’d love that,” Michelle said warmly.

The Connors had grown up close with Liam a year older than Carla and Michelle. Their families had always been intertwined by blood, with Michelle and Liam's dad Charles Connor being the younger brother to Johnny Connor. Their mum had hailed from Ireland and that is why Michelle after college had decided to migrate to Ireland and make her roots there. 

“And you behave,” Carla said, hugging her nephew. “See you soon, maybe Easter time?”

“Okay, Auntie C. Just make sure you don’t have another ‘planes are grounded’ Lisa moment,” Ryan teased, using air quotes.

Everyone laughed. Carla and Lisa both blushed.

“You know that wasn’t me pretending planes were grounded,” Carla said, poking his side. “I don’t control the weather or magically summon Lisa to rescue me at the airport.”

Ryan grinned. “For all we know, you two planned it. Lisa called in a favor with the Airport big wig, and you worked your weather magic. Boom! Grounded flights and a Christmas romance began.” He teased the adults.

"You're incorrigible, you." Carla snorted at the good natured accusation.

Michelle playfully smacked his arm, laughing with everyone else as they waved their final goodbyes.

-----

After getting back from the airport, Carla joined Glenda in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the same focus she used in the operating room. The two women talked easily, moving from hospital politics to stories about Glenda’s childhood.

Later, David called Carla over to show her how to fix a loose cabinet hinge, and the pair ended up in a friendly debate about how to make the perfect cup of tea. David swore by loose leaves, while Carla stood firmly by the convenience of teabags.

But it was Betsy who had settled most deeply into Carla’s days.

Each morning, Carla woke to the sound of small feet running down the hallway, followed by a soft tap on her door. “Doctor Connor,” came the little voice. “Rabbit’s got a new symptom.”

There had been some debate about whether Betsy should be allowed to wake Carla every morning. Lisa worried it might turn into a habit that extended to other guests, but Carla had insisted it was fine. She told Lisa that she felt honored that Betsy trusted her enough to make her part of her morning routine, and that she was more than happy to be her little friend's assistant and first contact of the day.

Their mornings became a pattern of play and laughter. They built forts in Betsy’s room, read storybooks under blankets, and managed the “Smurfette Medical Board,” where Carla was the Chief of Medicine and Betsy proudly took charge as Head of Toy Diagnostics. For the first time in a long time, Carla found herself laughing without effort; a genuine, easy laughter that came from being exactly where she wanted to be.

One afternoon, Betsy insisted on giving Carla a full checkup with her toy kit. Carla sat patiently while the four year-old pressed a plastic thermometer against her forehead, then studied it with exaggerated seriousness.

“You’re fine,” Betsy declared. “But you need more juice and milk.”

“Oh, do I now?” Carla asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Betsy nodded confidently, clearly convinced of her diagnosis.

Lisa watched from the doorway, arms crossed, a quiet smile on her face.

“She’s obsessed with you,” Lisa said later as they folded laundry together after putting Betsy down for her afternoon nap.

Carla shrugged lightly. “I’m obsessed with her…” She paused, letting her gaze meet Lisa’s sharp grayish-green eyes. “…and her mum.”

Lisa didn’t reply right away, but her eyes stayed on Carla’s, a faint blush creeping up her neck at the weight of the moment. Over the past few days since Christmas, the two had only grown closer. They found it harder and harder to keep their distance, their affection no longer something they could or wanted to hide.

Everyone in the house seemed to know without needing to be told. Glenda and David didn’t mind; if anything, they seemed quietly pleased. Watching both Betsy and their daughter light up again, seeing that familiar spark in Lisa's eyes, the same one they remembered from her high school years was something they hadn’t expected to witness again.

And they both knew exactly who had brought it back, even though they hadn’t realized that the two high school girls were together as girlfriends, in love with each other until this Christmas. 

----

After dinner, Glenda and David had left, leaving Lisa, Carla, and Betsy behind. They were headed to visit some friends about an hour away from the Swains’ home, planning to stay the night since David wasn’t up to driving back after a few beers.

“So, we’re all alone… alone?” Carla whispered, wrapping her arms around Lisa’s waist from behind.

Betsy had insisted Carla read to her when it was her time for bed. Both women had gone upstairs to help the little girl brush her teeth and get into pajamas, and then Carla had read a story she’d already repeated about ten times since Christmas Day. Betsy loved it, giggling at all of Carla’s different voices for the characters and trying unsuccessfully to imitate her husky tone.

“Yeah, we’re alone. Mum and Dad are in Leeds already. They just texted,” Lisa moaned as she felt Carla’s lips brushing along her collarbone. She slowly turned in Carla’s arms. “What did you have in mind?” she asked, her voice low and expectant. It was the first time they were truly alone together since their high school years, with Betsy already asleep upstairs of course.

“I have a lot in mind, madam. Where would you like to start?” Carla replied with a teasing smile, letting Lisa face her fully. “Let me show you where I’d like to start…” She leaned down and ran her tongue from Lisa’s collarbone up to her neck and earlobe, making Lisa release a sharp moan.

Lisa tightened her hands around Carla’s biceps as the other woman continued teasing her. She remembered all too well how that tongue used to drive her to distraction when they were younger. 

Carla guided them to the couch slowly, their mouths pressed together as the kiss deepened. She eased Lisa onto the dense cushions and watched her bounce up down on the very bouncy thick cushions, then straddled her lap, their kisses becoming more urgent and intense. Moans escaped both their mouths as hands explored, reacquainting themselves with each other after two decades apart. Yes, they had kissed on Christmas day in front of Michelle, Ryan, Glenda, and David, but never like this. They had restrained themselves then, waiting for the right moment to define what this was, what it could be. They both wanted more, but neither had rushed things; they had all the time to figure it out.

“I want to touch you, Lisa. Make love to you,” Carla whispered, her eyes dark with desire, her breath faster and heavier.

Lisa shook her head, her hands still gripping Carla’s thighs. “Not yet,” she whispered, making Carla’s expression fall. “I’m on my period right now. I wouldn’t even enjoy it. I want our first time after all these years to really count. I promise you, it will be worth the wait.” She pressed their foreheads together, letting their breathing slow.

“You scared me for a minute there,” Carla chuckled, peering into Lisa’s eyes. “I thought I’d done something wrong. But okay, that makes perfect sense. I can wait... what’s a few days or weeks after decades apart, right?” she joked.

Instead, the two women lay side by side on the couch, continuing to kiss and caress each other without crossing boundaries.

“I love this, being here with you like this,” Carla admitted quietly bringing her leg up and over Lisa's thigh.

Lisa nodded, brushing a stray lock of brunette hair from Carla’s face and pressing a gentle kiss to her nose. “Me too… I love you.” She said as her hand migrated to Carla's leg which was over her thigh. 

Finally, Lisa had said the three words. She had only told Carla at the airport that she had loved her in the past tense, and Carla had accepted that. Now, spoken in the present, it brought tears to Carla’s eyes.

“You do?” Carla asked, surprised.

“I really do. I’ve never stopped loving you. Not saying it before was just me protecting my heart,” Lisa explained. "I was still scared to put myself out there."

Carla nodded in understanding. She pulled Lisa close and kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling as soft moans escaped them. “I love you too, Lisa. I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too, babe,” Lisa responded, brushing away Carla’s escaped tears.

It was their new beginning, one worth celebrating and shouting from the rooftops of Manchester and London.

Chapter Text

That night, while the older Swains stayed in Leeds, Carla and Lisa spent that night in Lisa’s bedroom, simply enjoying each other’s company. They didn’t make love, but they reached a new kind of intimacy, the quiet, honest connection that comes when two people truly love each other.

They talked for hours about their careers and what lay ahead.

Lisa admitted she’d been thinking about cutting back even more on her flying hours. After almost eighteen years with British International Airlines, she wanted to slow down, maybe even work for a private charter company flying smaller jets for celebrities or politicians. The pay would still be good, and she’d have more time at home with Betsy.

Carla had argued at first, saying Lisa was still too young to step back from a career she loved. But when Lisa explained her reasons, Carla began to see her point. Maybe it wasn’t about quitting rather about balance.

Then it was Carla’s turn to open up. She told Lisa that her mentor, the current Chief of Surgery, was about to retire and had encouraged her to apply for the position. The promotion would mean more responsibilities, more hours, and far less time for herself. Before reconnecting with Lisa, that had seemed ideal; it would keep her busy, distracted, and safe from loneliness.

“That role would give me a chance to implement new policies, things that could really improve patient care,” Carla said thoughtfully as they lay side by side in bed. “It’s something I’ve always wanted. But if I’m honest, Lisa, part of my drive for it came from wanting to fill a void. I wanted to be so busy I wouldn’t have time to think about anything else. But…”

Lisa ran her fingers gently along Carla’s arm. “But?”

Carla exhaled softly. “But now, I have you and Betsy to think about if I want both of you in my life.”

Lisa’s eyes misted. “Are you sure you want to change your career path because of us?” she asked quietly.

“Lisa, I wasted twenty years away from you and away from loving you, being with you. I don’t want to do that anymore,” Carla said firmly. “When my mentor took a month off last year, I filled in as Chief. It was constant, long days and sleepless nights. I saw my apartment maybe once a week. I don’t want that again. As much as I care about making a difference in the hospital, I don’t think it’s worth losing the time I could have with you two.”

Lisa took a deep breath and then asked softly, “So… London or Manchester?”

Carla smiled knowingly; she understood exactly what Lisa meant.

“I’m leaning toward London,” she admitted. “And I have a ton of reasons for that.” She added hoping Lisa listens to her reasoning.

Lisa nodded slowly, listening, her heart full.

-----

David and Glenda spent another night in Leeds and arrived back late the next morning, just in time to celebrate New Year’s Eve with the family.

The house was quiet but warm. Glenda had prepared a simple dinner of roast chicken, potatoes, and a chocolate cake that Betsy had helped decorate, uneven sprinkles everywhere and a slightly smudged “2026” written in icing.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room. The TV played a countdown special in the background, though no one was really watching. Betsy was curled up against Carla’s side, her head resting on Carla’s chest, Rabbit tucked on her lap.

Lisa sat next to Carla and Betsy, sipping tea, her eyes drifting between the screen and the two figures beside her. She felt more content than she had in years. This time last year was one of those hardest times of the years. After Becky died, Lisa had always refused to go out to do anything. Her parents would try to insist she goes out with a daughter of their many Manchester posh friend's but Lisa would say no and no again. Her mum tried to set Lisa up first with a friend's daughter who was a lawyer and then another daughter of another friend a doctor and another one a teacher, the list goes on and on. But Lisa always said no way, she wasn't interested in dating or seeing anyone. At one point she ended up yelling at her parents for trying to set her up with all those people, they apologized and stopped.

It has been two years since Becky's death and the thought that she was ever going to be this happy in almost the anniversary of Becky's death was unbelievable. She had resigned herself to be by herself and her daughter for the rest of her life. She didn't feel the need to love or be loved again until she stumbled on the one woman who had always had her heart from the beginning. Stumbling on Carla at the airport had felt both as a blessing and a curse at that moment. She had momentarily debated on walking away before Carla spotted her as she walked out of the airport but her legs had betrayed her instead. She had found herself being pulled into Carla's direction by some force she couldn't even understand at that moment. 

December 23rd flashback...Lisa's POV

Lisa had just cleared airport border security and was heading toward the exit that led to the BIA staff parking area designated for their airline. As she began her walk, she noticed how heavily the snow was falling outside. The idea of stepping into that mess didn’t feel appealing, so she decided to take her time. Maybe walk around, delay heading out.

She figured she could pass by Gate 14, grab a Starbucks, and people-watch for a while. Maybe the weather would ease up. It was December 23rd, and the airport had already grounded several incoming and outgoing flights because of the storm. She knew Gate 14 and the nearby areas would be chaotic, everywhere crowded with stranded passengers but for some reason, that didn’t bother her that day. Her feet carried her on. 

When she reached the restaurant section near that area, she changed her mind and decided it was probably best to just go home after all. She stepped onto the escalator leading up toward Gate 14’s level, planning to take the next one down to the exit.

That’s when she saw her but couldn't make out her features from that far.

A woman stood leaning against a glass wall, glancing at her phone once, then twice in quick succession, as if checking again might somehow change what she’d just seen. Lisa slowed down, watching her. Something in her lower stomach fluttered when the woman looked up briefly in her direction, only to look down again at her boots. She looked tired, out of place, and not in the mood for the crowd around her.

At one point, a woman in a red parka near the airline desk started shouting at a staff member. The dark-haired woman turned toward the commotion, frowned slightly, then shook her head and looked back down at the floor.

Lisa couldn’t explain it, but her feet started moving toward her before her mind caught up. She didn’t even know why. She hadn’t recognized her yet, not fully. She just knew she needed to see her up close.

She weaved through the crowd, some people bumping into her, suitcases rolling across her path, but none of it mattered. She kept her eyes fixed on the woman, making sure she didn’t lose sight of her in the busy terminal.

When she was a few meters away, she stopped and really looked. The woman seemed familiar from her posture and her face, but Lisa couldn’t place her at first. Still, something about her pulled at a memory deep in her mind. Then the woman turned slightly, her profile catching the light, and Lisa froze.

That profile, she knew it well. She had known it for a couple of unforgettable years in high school.

It hit her like a Mack truck.

Carla Connor?

Lisa wasn’t entirely sure at first. This woman was clearly older, maybe twenty years older than the girl she had once known. But the resemblance was unmistakable.

The Carla she remembered had been nineteen, vibrant, confident and beautiful. This Carla looked tired, more grounded, but still undeniable stunning. Age had refined her features, sharpening her jawline in a way that made her look even more striking. Even in her wrinkled travel clothes and scruffy looking boots, she had the same presence. The kind that turned heads without trying.

Most women envied her. Most people both men and women would have wanted to be the one holding her hand. Carla Connor had always had that effect on people, even back in school.

But Lisa hadn’t been jealous, not then. Because in those last few years of school, she was the one Carla Connor had kissed behind the closed doors of their dorm room. She was the one Carla had held close when the evening bells rang. She was the one Carla had softly and slowly made love to and the one whose name Carla had whispered when she reached the peak of pleasure.

Lisa hesitated at first, wondering if approaching the woman was a good idea. She should walk down the other set of escalators and disappear into the parking lot, drive home; that’s what her brain told her. But her heart and body had other plans. Warmth spread through her as she walked toward her. She didn’t know how she’d be received after all these years. Carla had been the one to cut contact, to refuse any communication, and that decision had shattered her.

Lisa had grieved that loss for a long time. Her parents had been worried. She’d stopped eating, lost weight, and spent weeks barely leaving her room. It got so bad that her parents had threatened to call a psychiatrist. That was what finally pushed her to pull herself together and start acting normal again.

Weeks turned into months, and months into years. She went to university, but Carla’s absence followed her everywhere. The ache dulled over time but never really disappeared.

She’d learned to function again and move on, even if she didn’t fully understand how.

At university, she threw herself into her studies. Some classmates tried to befriend her, but she wasn’t particularly open. She accepted friendships but kept her distance emotionally. She spent most of her free time in her apartment or the library.

People thought she was strange, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about fitting in, about brands, or about gossip. Her feelings for women had gone dormant too, almost as if her attraction had shut down the day Carla walked out of her life.

That stayed true for years until her final two years of university when she met a girl who looked like Carla. A brunette with deep blue eyes instead of green. It wasn’t love, and both of them knew it. It was one of those casual college relationships that filled the empty space for a while.

After graduation, Lisa came out to her parents. They didn’t take it well. They refused to accept her, and for two years, they didn’t speak to her at all. She gave them space, knowing that deep down, they still loved her. She was their only child.

Two years later, her father was the one who reached out. He called her out of the blue, after she’d already moved to London and started working at BIA as a junior engineer while taking flight classes. A week later, her parents visited her in London. They apologized, things were awkward at first, a bit strained but they slowly rebuilt what they had lost. Eventually, their relationship returned to what it had once been.

Now, standing there in the airport all these years later, looking at the woman by the glass wall, Lisa’s heart pounded.

She stepped closer; really close, letting the woman see her boots first. And when Carla’s gaze began traveling upward from her boots to her face, her voice hitched. It was indeed Carla Connor. Two decades older, but still the most stunning woman in the room. 

The woman stared up at her, recognition slowly seeping into her tired brain. Her eyes widened, and something else flashed across her features; guilt, fear… shame?

“Lisa?” Carla’s voice came out low, almost cautious, like she wasn’t sure if saying the name would make the moment vanish.

Lisa blinked, then broke into a smile that came slowly, as if her mind needed time to believe what her eyes were telling her.

Her voice was low but steady. “Carla Connor?” she asked.

End of Flashback

----

Lisa’s eyes moved back to the two most important people in her life, apart from her parents. Carla had once again stolen her heart, but could she even call it stolen at this point? Carla Connor had always had it. Even when Lisa was with Becky, her thoughts never drifted far from the woman Carla had become over the years, living somewhere away from her since their high school days. Becky had known about Carla, not in a negative way. She knew that Carla had once broken Lisa’s heart, but to Becky and anyone else, Carla was just a childhood sweetheart, something everyone has had at some point and some were lucky enough to keep forever. To Lisa, Carla Connor was the love of her life, even from a distance. But she never said that to Becky.

Carla looked down at Betsy, who was half asleep, thumb in her mouth, her curls forming a soft halo against Carla’s arm.

“She’s out,” Carla whispered to Lisa, running her hand gently up and down the little girl’s arm.

Their eyes locked in an intense moment neither woman looked away from, a silent exchange that needed no words.

Lisa nodded. “She’ll wake up for the countdown. She always does,” she assured, her gaze still fixed on Carla’s.

It felt like a dream. From that unbelievable airport moment when they met, to this very night. Every morning, when Lisa woke to the sound of Carla playing with Betsy, she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Carla smiled faintly, still stroking Betsy’s hair. “She’s something else,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving Lisa’s. The pull between them grew stronger each day and it was impossible to ignore. It was as if everything they’d once felt as teenagers had only multiplied with time.

“She is.” Lisa murmured. 

A pause lingered between them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Carla said quietly. “About what you said. About what we talked about... us, and the distance between London and Manchester.”

Lisa’s eyes lifted to meet hers. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know what it looks like,” Carla admitted. “I don’t know how it will work. But I do know I don’t want to go back to how things were when we weren’t in each other’s lives.” Her voice lowered, her eyes misting.

Lisa set her mug down. “You don’t have to decide everything right now.”

“I know,” Carla said softly. “But I’ve spent so long convincing myself I didn’t want this; a home, a family. And now…” She glanced down at Betsy. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Lisa’s voice softened. “You’d be good at it,” she said, sliding closer to her two girls. “I think you’re a natural, to be honest.”

Carla looked down at Betsy again. “She makes it easy. You’ve done a great job raising this angel.”

Lisa smiled knowingly. “She’s not always easy,” she said, aware that Carla had already seen her daughter’s fiery side in the last two days. Betsy was a lot like her in more ways than one.

Carla chuckled. “I know. But she’s real. And this...” she looked back and forth at Betsy and Lisa “..this feels real.”

The countdown began on the TV.

Ten… nine… eight…

Betsy stirred, blinking sleepily. “Is it time?”

Carla kissed her forehead. “Almost, baby,” she whispered.

Lisa slipped an arm around Betsy’s back and extended it to Carla’s waist, pulling them both close.

Three… two… one…

The screen flashed with fireworks. Betsy clapped weakly, still half-asleep. Glenda and David cheered from the kitchen, raising glasses of cider.

Carla turned to Lisa. “Happy New Year, Lisa,” she whispered.

Lisa smiled. “Happy New Year, babe.”

They each kissed Betsy’s cheeks before turning to each other, sharing a deep, tender kiss filled with quiet promises for the future.

Glenda and David appeared from the kitchen to hug them and wish them a happy new year.

Then they all settled again, shoulder to shoulder, a sleeping child sprawled across both their laps. A soft, unspoken understanding settled around them.

----

January 2nd, 2026, was the day Carla planned to fly back to London to get herself ready for work again. Lisa had insisted on booking the flight for her, even though Carla was still owed a refund for the one she never took to Dublin when flights were grounded in Manchester because of bad weather.

The Swains woke up at their usual time. David made breakfast, and everyone fell into their normal routine. Betsy, however, wasn’t exactly thrilled about returning to kindergarten, and she made that very clear at the table that morning.

“Little madam really isn’t happy with us today, is she?” Carla asked with a snort.

When Betsy started throwing a tantrum about going back to school, she clearly expected Carla to back her up. But instead, the doctor sided with her mummy, which didn’t sit well with the little girl. Feeling betrayed by her friend, Betsy stormed off to her room to play alone, refusing to invite Carla for their usual playdate.

“She’ll get over it in ten minutes,” Lisa said with a chuckle. “She can’t stay mad for long. She’s a softie.”

Carla looked at the pilot as she pulled more dried laundry out of the dryer. “So, what has you straining your brain so hard, Captain oh my Captain?”

Lisa laughed quietly at Carla’s tone but didn’t look up from the laundry basket. Her voice was calm but thoughtful. “I got a call this morning from the British International Airline.”

Carla paused mid-fold, holding a sweater in her hands. “Okay, and...?” she coaxed.

“They apparently need a captain,” Lisa began, glancing at Carla as she folded one of the doctor’s silk pajama tops. “The one scheduled for the London flight tomorrow called in sick. He can’t fly due to a serious stomach bug he caught over the holidays.”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “That sounds serious, so…?” she asked, placing her folded jeans into her large overnight LV bag.

Lisa finally looked up, her expression unreadable. “It’s the flight you’re scheduled on. It departs from Manchester Airport at 1300 hours.”

Carla blinked and then broke into a wide grin. “So, do I get to be flown by you, Captain oh my Captain?”

Lisa shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I haven’t accepted the shift yet. I wanted to talk to you first… see how you’d feel about it.”

“Feel? Are you being serious right now? How I’d feel? Is it tomorrow yet?” Carla laughed with joy, tilting her head. “Are you just flying one way or do you have to fly back again?”

“Just one,” Lisa nodded. “I was thinking of bringing Betsy with me. She’s been asking about London ever since you told her about your hospital.”

“I was already feeling the loneliness creep in when my flight was confirmed back home to London,” Carla admitted with a grin. “But now my little doctor is coming with me? Yes, please, Captain. Let’s go! And definitely bring Betsy along.”

Lisa laughed softly at Carla’s obvious excitement. “You’re sure?” she asked carefully. “It’s going to be just you and her on the plane while I’m in the cockpit, babe.”

“Look at me, Lisa. Do I look like I don’t mean what I’m telling you?” Carla said, folding the sweater neatly into her bag. “I’ve never been more sure. If I have to go back, I’d rather do it with you two beside me.”

They walked upstairs with the laundered beddings from when Ryan and Michelle were around. After placing them in the right dressers, Lisa turned to check on Betsy in her room. She stopped and leaned against the doorway, watching Carla for a moment. “Alright then. I’ll call them back,” she said, slapping her palms lightly against her thighs before she turned around to walk away, but hesitated when she heard Carla's voice.

Carla looked up, her smile lingering. “You know, I never thought I’d be excited about going home,” she said with a small laugh. Just imagining Lisa in the cockpit flying them was enough to make her mind wander.

She wished it were only the captain in that cockpit, but of course, there’d be the hostesses coming in and out and the first officer. Still, she could think of several ways to keep them occupied if Lisa were alone in there.

Carla shook her head to chase away the sudden dirty thoughts, but a deep blush crept up her neck. Her throat went dry, and her pulse quickened. The thoughts refused to leave, and she avoided Lisa’s gaze from across the room, keeping her hands busy arranging and rearranging the bedding in the dresser. She knew that if she looked up, Lisa might see that look in her eyes, the unmistakable one that came with the kind of thoughts she was having.

Lisa bent over the cockpit screaming her name. Her face pressed against the cockpit window, the clouds rolling outside as Carla’s fingers rammed in and out of her soaking wet core. Carla sat on the cockpit captain's chair, Lisa bouncing on top of her, her hair wild as she repeated “yes” and “Carla” over and over again like a mantra.

Oh, the thoughts. She couldn’t help the sigh and groan that escaped her throat, her cheeks turning crimson at her wayward thoughts.

Lisa’s gaze lingered on Carla, curiosity flickering in her eyes. She wondered where Carla’s mind had just drifted off to in the middle of their conversation. The faint blush spreading up the doctor’s neck didn’t go unnoticed. Lisa couldn’t help but wonder what kind of thoughts had crossed her mind at that exact moment.

She cleared her throat, her voice softening. “Maybe it’s not about where you’re going. Maybe it’s about who you’re going with.”

Lisa winked, then turned abruptly and began walking away, leaving Carla standing there flushed, flustered, and caught between embarrassment and amusement.

Carla’s grin widened as she watched Lisa walk away with a little exaggerated sway on her hips. “Yes, it is. You two with me, fly me out of here!” she exclaimed, laughing.

Chapter Text

The business class cabin was quiet, bathed in soft lighting and the muted rustle of the earliest passengers settling into their seats. Carla stepped in first, her hand gently guiding Betsy, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

Two flight attendants greeted them with warm smiles, their posture relaxed but attentive. “Welcome aboard,” one of them said, crouching slightly to meet Betsy’s eye level. “You must be Miss Betsy Swain.”

It was obvious to Carla the hostess had already been forewarned by Lisa about her rambunctious four-year-old and about Carla joining them on the flight.

Betsy nodded enthusiastically, curls bouncing. “Mommy is flying my plane!”

A few passengers glanced over, amused by the four-year-old’s confidence. Most smiled politely and returned to their champagne or noise-canceling headphones, assuming she was just being a kid, imaginative, chatty, and harmless.

The hostess nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, she is,” she whispered conspiratorially, making the little girl giggle before glancing up at Carla. “And you must be Dr. Connor,” she said, standing to shake Carla’s hand.

“I am, thank you for this,” Carla replied, glancing down at the curly-haired ball of energy vibrating under her palm.

“I want to see Mommy’s cockpit,” Betsy announced, clutching her stuffed Smurfette tightly against her chest.

The flight attendant chuckled. “You will, little Miss Betsy. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll call her to come get you.”

Carla smiled, settling into her seat. “She’s been talking about this since breakfast.”

“She’s got every reason to be proud,” the attendant said. “Captain Swain’s one of our best.”
The hostess admitted with a look Carla didn’t like one bit. Was she crushing on Lisa?

“Have you flown with her before?” Carla couldn’t help but dig around, trying to decipher that look on the gorgeous blue-eyed brunette who looked about ten years younger than her and Lisa.

The hostess, name tag reading Brenda, nodded. “I have, most international flights actually. I seem to be lucky enough to be paired with her during those flights. I’m also covering for a colleague who fell ill, but I’m starting to think it’s more to do with a hangover.”

Carla snorted, but her mind was elsewhere. She needed to have a chat with Lisa about Miss Brenda here. She and Betsy proceeded to their seats, leaving Brenda to continue welcoming other passengers onto the aircraft.

Betsy climbed onto her seat, legs swinging, eyes scanning the cabin like she was preparing for takeoff herself. She leaned toward Carla and whispered, “Do you think Mommy will let me press a button?”

Carla laughed softly. “Maybe not today. But you’ll get to see everything,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Brenda watched them as she placed the intercom receiver down before walking over to the duo. “You and Captain Swain make a really good-looking couple,” Brenda admitted.

“You know?” Carla asked, surprised that Lisa had already let her staff know she was her girlfriend.

“No.” Brenda looked a bit scared for coming off certain of the relationship between the two women. “I just thought…”

Carla really looked at her this time. She spotted a ring on her finger and wondered how she had missed it. “Thank you. We are, yes,” she confirmed finally, putting Brenda out of her misery. At first, she had been worried about Brenda and Lisa, but now it was obvious the woman just had that colleague admiration and nothing to do with romantic admiration.

“My husband and I just got married three months ago,” Brenda added.

“Congratulations, Brenda,” Carla said genuinely. “And how is the new marriage?”

“We love it. He is also an intercity pilot with a smaller company. We are trying to make things work though,” Brenda said.

Just then, the cockpit door opened, and Lisa Swain stepped out in full uniform, navy jacket, silver buttons, and her captain’s hat tucked under one arm. Her eyes landed on Carla and Betsy, and her face lit up.

“There’s my crew,” Lisa said as she moved quickly across the aisle. Her plane was still in a long queue of about ten other planes ahead of her waiting for the takeoff green light. And it was slow. She’d been in this position before where delays meant takeoff and landing times changed in a blink of an eye.

Betsy squealed. “Mummy!” The little girl yelled, flying off her chair the moment her eyes spotted her captain mum.

Lisa crouched down and scooped her up. “You ready to see where the magic happens?” she whispered, kissing the little girl on her cheek.

Betsy nodded so hard her curls bounced like springs.

Lisa turned to Carla. “Want to come too?” she asked shyly.

Carla hesitated, then smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

The flight attendant stepped aside as Lisa led them toward the cockpit. Passengers who had dismissed Betsy’s earlier declaration now watched with quiet surprise as the little girl marched proudly behind her mother, the actual pilot.

Inside the cockpit, the space was tight but humming with quiet energy. Lights blinked, switches lined the panels, and the view out front was a stretch of runway bathed in early morning light.

Other passengers from other boarding groups continued to walk in slowly, one by one, into the aircraft’s bowels. The chatter inside was getting noisier and noisier, people banging their bags overhead, and some passengers who looked impatient groaned and grunted when blocked from moving through to their designated seats.

On the other side of the plane, Lisa lifted Betsy onto the captain’s seat and handed her the captain’s hat. “Just for a minute.”

Betsy placed it on her head, slightly crooked, and looked around in awe. “This is the best plane ever.”

The young first officer on the co-pilot chair snorted at the little girl’s energy as he ran through his flight checklist.

Carla stood behind them, watching Lisa explain the controls in simple terms, pointing out the throttle, the yoke, and the radio. Betsy listened intently, her small hands gripping Smurfette like a co-pilot.

Carla felt something shift in her chest. Not dramatic, just quiet. A sense of belonging. Of being exactly where she was supposed to be.

Lisa glanced back at her, eyes soft. “She’s been waiting for this moment.”

Carla nodded. “So have I.”

Carla leaned against the cockpit doorway, arms loosely folded, watching Lisa settle into her seat. Betsy was perched beside her on the jump seat, legs swinging, eyes wide with curiosity as she peppered her mother with questions about buttons, levers, and blinking lights.

“So is this her first time flying with you?” Carla asked, voice low, not wanting to interrupt the rhythm between mother and daughter.

Lisa glanced up briefly, then returned her attention to the pre-flight checklist. Her first officer was already running through systems, focused but relaxed.

“No,” Lisa said, adjusting her headset. “She flew with Becky once or twice when she was almost two. London and Morocco. I flew one way on those trips.”

Carla nodded, listening.

“She’s also flown with my parents a few times for vacation stuff. I took the outbound legs for her sake, then handed off the return flights to another captain.”

Carla smiled. “So she’s a seasoned traveler,” she said, her gaze flicking from an excited Betsy to her sexy-looking mum, looking all authoritative and powerful in her captain attire. She winked at Lisa when Betsy was turned the other way, her attention suddenly on other planes taxiing on the runway preparing for takeoff. Betsy was mesmerized as she watched the planes gain speed and then lift off from the long runways.

Lisa gave a soft laugh. “Technically, yes. But she doesn’t really remember any of it. She was too little and she never got in here any of those times,” Lisa said, indicating the cockpit.

She paused, glancing at Betsy, who was now pointing at the altimeter and asking if it was a “magic number spinner.”

“I think this one’s different,” Lisa said quietly. “She’ll remember this.” She thought to herself, so will she.

Flying her two girls on board was a dream come true for Lisa. Becky was never interested in her career as a pilot, not because she didn’t care, she just wasn’t into planes unless she was getting from point A to B. It was all that she cared about. She never asked the things that Carla had asked her about her career in the last couple of days, the almost three years that she and Becky were married before her tragic death. Lisa took it as just someone who wasn’t really into anything else except maybe just her own work, and that didn’t bother Lisa. In general, Becky was a godsend in her life at the time, maybe when she needed someone by her side the most. And she was grateful for the years they’d had together, no matter the short length.

Carla looked at her, really looked. The way Lisa’s voice softened when she spoke about Becky. The way her hand rested gently on Betsy’s shoulder. The way she carried the weight of memory and motherhood with quiet grace.

“I think she will too,” Carla said.

Lisa met her eyes, and for a moment, the hum of the cockpit faded into the background.

This wasn’t just a flight.
It was a moment that would live in all three of them.

-----

Betsy and Carla had already settled into their business class seats after a five-minute tour of the cockpit area with Lisa. Twenty minutes later, the pre-flight announcement came through from the pilot.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking, Swain,” Lisa began on the intercom. “Welcome onboard Flight #4427 with service from Manchester to London.”

“That’s my mummy!” Betsy squealed loudly, her voice echoing through the cabin. Several passengers snorted with laughter. By now, they had already seen that the little girl wasn’t imagining things. Her mum really was the pilot. Some of the passengers felt even safer flying that day, knowing the captain had her own child on board.

Carla tried to quiet Betsy, placing a finger to her lips, but the little girl only giggled harder when a few passengers chuckled in response. Encouraged by the laughter, Betsy covered her mouth, but her eyes sparkled with pride.

Lisa continued her announcement. “We are currently sixth in line for takeoff and are expected to be in the air in approximately ten minutes. The time is now 1:25 p.m. in both London and Manchester. Our estimated arrival time is between 2:35 p.m. and 2:45 p.m., depending on the weather ahead. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for takeoff. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing British International Airlines. Enjoy your flight.”

At exactly 1335 hours, Captain Swain’s plane was cleared for takeoff.

“Captain Lisa Swain, you’re now cleared for takeoff,” came the instruction on Lisa’s headset from the control tower. “Fly safe.”

Lisa began taxiing the large aircraft slowly. Her eyes darted across the control panels, both below and above, checking that every system was functioning correctly and aligning the aircraft with the runway centerline.

As an engineer in aviation who later became a pilot, everything about flying felt like muscle memory to her. Every step, from confirming system functions to verifying mechanical components, was second nature, deeply embedded in her mind. Not all pilots had the same extensive training; most only trained to fly, but few understood the engineering side as she did. Lisa had yet to meet another commercial pilot with her level of technical knowledge.

Lisa's concentration was at its peak as she continued scanning the instruments. Once the aircraft was perfectly aligned on the centerline, her steady hand pushed the throttle forward, increasing the engine power output. The plane vibrated as it gained speed, and her eyes moved over the readings before her. Airspeed, altitude, engine parameters, vertical speed and all, her focus was locked on the cockpit. In that moment, nothing else mattered except a smooth takeoff, lift, and climb.

The climb was smooth as butter as the plane lifted higher and higher, leaving Manchester City below, the nose angled like a poised spear slicing through the clouds.

After a few minutes another announcement came on from the pilot.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We’ve now reached our cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet. The seatbelt sign will remain on for a few more minutes as we’re expecting a bit of weather ahead. Nothing to worry about, but we kindly ask that you remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until it’s safe to move about the cabin,” Lisa finished the announcement calmly.

After reviewing the latest weather patterns, she anticipated a few light bumps but nothing serious. It was important to reassure passengers early to prevent any unnecessary panic.

-----

At 2:35 p.m., another announcement came from the cockpit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our descent into London City Airport. Please ensure your seatbacks and tray tables are in their full upright position, your seatbelt is securely fastened, and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. The current weather in London is cloudy skies, light winds, and a temperature of twelve degrees Celsius. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until it is safe to move about the cabin. Thank you.”

The descent into London was smooth, the city sprawling beneath them in a patchwork of lights and steel. Carla looked out the window, Betsy curled beside her, nose pressed against the glass.

“Is that where you live?” Betsy asked, pointing at a cluster of high-rises from the bird’s-eye view.

“Somewhere around there, yes,” Carla said, pointing toward a group of tall buildings through the small cabin window. “On the sixty-fifth floor, very, very high.”

Betsy’s eyes widened. “That’s almost to the sky.”

“Yes, it feels like that sometimes,” Carla said, smiling. She had chosen one of the tallest residential buildings in London mostly for convenience, but the views from up there were worth every penny, especially on her days off.

“I want to live in the sky too,” Betsy said excitedly as the plane taxied to a stop. They waited for the seatbelt sign to turn off. “Can I live with you?”

Before Carla could respond, another announcement came through.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying British International Airlines today. On behalf of all the captains and crew members, we’d like to wish you a happy stay in London. Remember to keep warm and dry out there,” Brenda said cheerfully over the intercom.

The business-class passengers were the first to receive clearance to deplane. Carla and Betsy were among the first. Carla slung her heavy LV bag over her shoulder and took Betsy’s small hand, the little girl clutching her Smurfette doll with her bear backpack strapped tightly on.

At the exit, they stopped to say goodbye to Brenda and Lisa, who had joined the crew to wish passengers a pleasant stay in London.

“Mommy? Are you not coming with us?” Betsy asked, confused as she saw her mother standing by the door.

“Not now, nugget, but I’ll see you and Dr. Connor out there, yeah?” Lisa said with a wink at Carla, mindful not to use her first name in front of other passengers. “Be good, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy,” Betsy said brightly, skipping beside Carla, happy as ever.

Behind them, a male passenger lingered for a moment to thank Lisa. “You raised a smart one there, Captain. And your wife is gorgeous,” he added with a grin.

Lisa blushed, ready to correct him, but when she caught Carla glancing back and winking at her, she smiled instead and let the comment pass.

-----

Lisa met them at the terminal after debriefing with her crew. She looked tired but content, her captain’s hat tucked under her arm, her smile softening the moment she spotted them.

“Muuummy!” Betsy shouted from across the room, her voice echoing through the arrivals area as Lisa walked toward them.

When Lisa reached them, wheeling the slightly larger suitcase she shared with Betsy, she scooped the little girl into her arms. Betsy held her mother’s face between her small hands and kissed her.

“I missed you, Mummy,” she said, her voice muffled against Lisa’s cheek.

Lisa chuckled. “It’s only been a few minutes, baby. But I’m here now. Have you been good to Dr. Connor?” she asked, shaking her playfully in her arms.

Betsy giggled. “Yes, Mummy. I’m going to live in the sky with Dr. Connor,” she declared proudly.

Lisa raised an eyebrow at Carla, who quickly shook her head and lifted her hands in mock surrender to show she hadn’t prompted it.

“Well, first things first, nugget,” Lisa said, tickling Betsy’s sides until the girl squealed with laughter. “We need to get to Dr. Connor’s place, shower, and get some nap time in. I hear someone hasn’t slept a wink today.”

“I’m not sleepy, Mummy,” Betsy countered.

Carla leaned in, smiling. “Tell you what, if you sleep, I’ll buy you pineapple pizza later for dinner and ice cream after. How about that?”

Betsy gasped. “Okay!”

Carla tried not to grimace. Pineapple on pizza went against everything she believed in, but it was both Lisa and Betsy’s favorite. For her girls, she could stomach it.

“Ready, Captain oh my Captain?” Carla teased, making Lisa snort as they headed for the exit.

At the airport’s private parking zone, Carla’s sleek black Mercedes-Benz Maybach waited, gleaming under the pale winter sun. The valet handed her the keys with a polite nod after she slipped him a fifty-pound note.

Carla slid behind the wheel like she’d never left. Since no one had planned for Betsy joining the ride, there was no car seat. Lisa sat in the back, holding Betsy securely under her seat belt. Betsy clutched her Smurfette doll and pink bear backpack.

The drive into Midtown was calm, the city flowing around them in slow motion. Carla glanced occasionally into the rearview mirror, catching Lisa gazing out the window, taking in the rhythm of London.

“You’ve never seen my place,” Carla said.

Lisa smiled. “I’ve imagined it. Glass, mortar and steel, and very quiet.”

“You’re not wrong.”

They pulled into the underground garage of the Landmark Pinnacle building, the car gliding into its reserved bay. The elevator ride up was fast and silent. Betsy clung to Carla’s hand, eyes wide as the numbers climbed.

“Sixty floors,” she whispered. “We’re going to the moon.”

Carla chuckled. “Almost.”

The elevator doors opened into a private foyer. Carla unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights.

The condo was everything Lisa had imagined floor to ceiling windows, minimalist furniture, polished surfaces, and a sweeping view of the city. But there was a stillness to it, a kind of emptiness.

Betsy ran straight to the window, pressing her hands against the glass. “I can see everything!”

Lisa moved slowly through the space, taking it all in. “It’s beautiful and looks expensive coming from the lobby,” she said, glancing at Betsy, who was now smushing her face against the glass, completely fearless despite being sixty-five floors up.

“Old money and…” Carla set down her bag. “It’s cold,” she said quietly.

Lisa turned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s never felt like home. Not really. It’s just where I sleep between shifts,” Carla explained.

As she spoke, she watched Betsy race from room to room, her laughter echoing across the high ceilings. Something shifted inside her. For the first time, the condo didn’t feel so cold anymore.

Lisa tilted her head. “Old money?”

Carla gave a small, knowing smile. “Well, my maternal grandparents didn’t think I was capable of taking care of myself as a girl.” She scoffed softly. “They died when I was ten and fifteen. Left me with more than half of their wealth and my brothers the remainder.” She shrugged. “My salary isn’t that much to afford paying off this condo in full.”

Lisa hummed thoughtfully. She had known Carla came from money, but not this kind of money.

Betsy wandered into the open-plan kitchen, opening drawers like she was running an inspection. “Where’s the toy room?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

Carla laughed. “We’ll have to make one.”

Lisa leaned against the counter. “She’s already planning renovations.”

Carla looked around, then back at her. “It’s strange. I’ve lived here for years, but today, it feels different.”

Lisa stepped closer. “Because you’re not alone.”

Carla met her gaze. “Not exactly. Because you and Betsy are here. It finally feels like home.”

After Betsy’s reluctant nap, the rest of the afternoon unfolded quietly. They unpacked, ordered food, and watched the city shift from daylight to the glow of evening lights. Betsy claimed the second guest room as hers and immediately started planning what she called “London Hospital Headquarters.”

Lisa stood by the window as the skyline came alive. Carla joined her, carrying two mugs of tea. She handed one to Lisa, then her hand moved to Lisa's lower back, pulling her closer.

“She loves it here,” Lisa said softly, watching Betsy press her little face against the glass to observe the city below, the buildings lighting up one by one. Car lights moved along the streets, marking the rhythm of the city in motion.

“So do I,” Carla replied, leaning in and nuzzling Lisa's neck. “Now. I'm beginning to love it now.”

Lisa studied her. “You’re different now,” she said.

Carla tilted her head. “Different, how?”

“There is a sense about you that was missing the day we met at Manchester airport,” Lisa said, looking at her more closely. “You seem more at ease and more yourself, happier like I remember you in high school when we were alone in our dorm room. You were freer and the happiest there.”

“I was still so afraid back in high school, but when we were alone in our room, you made me feel like myself each day,” Carla said with a sad smile before continuing. “And now, I have learned to let that fear go. The fear in high school was of my sexuality and the consequences of being queer in my family. But now that fear is gone, and I have everything I have ever needed in my life. You and Betsy.”

They stood side by side, looking out at the city beneath them.

For the first time in a long time, Carla Connor felt like she was home.