Nope. Lucy is Home.

“Fucking again?” Lucy sneered as you and Gemma walked through the apartment, passing by the living room.

“I mean… technically and ironically, yes,” you said.

“Also literally,” Gemma said.

“Ugh,” Lucy grunted. “You two couldn’t go to his place?”

“I was there last time,” Gemma said. “This time I brought him here. Lucy, we’ve had like three group meetings about this.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t let him know how much he sucks, and tell you how big a mistake you’re making,” Lucy sneered.

Usually, this was where Charlotte or Becca usually stepped in, but there was no sign of either of them. “Come on, love,” you said, taking Gemma’s hand and tugging her towards the hallway and her room. “Let’s just-”

“Love?” Lucy barked out a cynical laugh. “What, are you trying to put on a British affectation now or something? Trying to seem more put together and interesting than you really are, John?”

“Actually, he got it from me because I started calling him that as our pet name first,” Gemma countered. “And then he turned it serious, because he’s a wonderful, attractive, caring, considerate man who told me he loves me, and I happen to have quickly fallen in love with him as well.”

“Pffft,” Lucy blew a raspberry. “You two are in love after a week? What a fucking joke. Congratulations, John. You caught Gemma on the rebound. I’ll stop complaining because you two will be done in another week, tops. You love each other. Sure.”

“Gemma, no,” you said, holding her back as Gemma snarled and curled his hands into fists.

“You fuck knuckle cunt,” Gemma growled. “You have no fucking idea what’s going on between us. And if you couldn’t wrap your dog fuck mind around how good a guy John is when you were in high school, that’s your own cheating slag case of issues. So why don’t you run your snotty little wizard sleeve off to your next tinder cunt fuckboy who will treat you like the shitty tart you are, while we go fuck each other’s brains out all night and fall asleep happy and in the arms of the person we love. ”

Lucy’s mouth was hanging open at the obsolete torrent of vitriol Gemma had just spilt out. It had honestly been a little hard to follow, as Gemma’s Aussie accent started to ramp up and even some of the more innocuous insults sounded worse the way she said them.

You had two choices. Option A: Give Lucy a chance to respond. See things escalate. Maybe they fight it out. Then you would get to watch Gemma kick the shit out of Lucy most likely - she had some height and weight on her, and Lucy had always been a little bit of a priss while you had no doubt Gemma could probably throw a proper punch. But, that might literally lead to a domestic call to the police from a neighbour.

Despite kind of wanting to see the middle part of Option A, you went with Option B and picked Gemma up in your arms, carrying her towards her room. “Aaaand that’s the line right there,” you said. “You two can hash it out when you’ve cooled down.”

“Fuck you!” Lucy shouted, standing up from the couch and starting to follow us.

“Don’t!” you said, turning back and pointing right at her. You were loud, and you toned it down immediately. “Lucy, just don’t. Cool off.” Then you kept walking, Gemma wriggling for a moment in your arms as she threw the bird at Lucy over your shoulder.

You entered Gemma’s room and kicked the door shut, walked her right over to the bed and dropped her there. She was scowling and breathing hard.

“Gemma-” you started, but then you saw the look in her eyes, and you pulled her into a hug.

The rage had gone out of her as soon as you got the door closed, the adrenaline that had flooded her system with the anger dropping in her body and leaving her with the hurt. Gemma clutched to your arms as she sobbed softly into your stomach, holding you tight.

“Shhh,” you tried to soothe her. “It’s alright, love. It’ll work out.”

She started to collect herself quickly, maybe only thirty seconds of actual crying. She sniffed hard, pulling away from you a bit. “Oh, God. John, I’m so embarrassed-”

“Stop,” you said, sitting down next to her on the bed and pulling her into another hug. “Stop being embarrassed about what you’re feeling and what you want. I’m here. It’s OK. I’m here.”

She hugged you again, not crying but squeezing her eyes tight like she was afraid you were going to walk away. Her breathing slowed, and you slowly lowered the both of you back so you were laying on the bed, and she curled up half on top of you as you held her.

“Gemma,” you whispered. “I’ve never seen you like that, and usually you take on conflict like that head-on and with a grin. You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know - what happened there?”

She took a deep breath and pressed her cheek to your chest to feel your heart beating as she answered. “I didn’t care what she said until she said you were just a rebound,” Gemma said quietly. “That- I’ve worried about that, in the dark when I’m alone. I was engaged a year ago, and even though I’m so fucking happy to be out of that, and to have found you, there’s this little piece of me that worries that I’m just using you. And that this feeling is going to go away. And that I’m going to lose you.”

You held her as she spilt her inner thoughts, and felt a similar wrenching feeling in your gut. From the start, that first time you told her you loved her and came up with the ‘here and now’ sort of reasoning, you’d known it was bullshit. But you were in love with Sabrina, too. You could understand all the weird and messed up things that drifted through your mind in the middle of the night, the worries and insecurities.

“I love you,” you told her as your answer. “And I’ll keep loving you, without reservation. And I think you’ll do the same with me, Gem. And those dark little corners of your mind can shrink a little bit further back, because I promise you that even if I were a rebound, this thing between us is too good to give up.”

“I love you too,” she breathed, almost without sound. Then, just a touch louder. “I’m changing my mind.”

“About what?” you asked.

“I need you to make love to me right now, please,” she whispered. “At least the first round.”

You smiled and squeezed her. “At least,” you whispered and kissed her on the top of her head.

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