“You have a precious gift, Jemima,” Rosie said, placing the mugs on the coffee table. “I think that means you need to stay here forever.”

“Does it now?” Jem plonked herself onto the sofa and hooked her arm through Rosie’s. It was still early days in their relationship, and even with her new tendency toward optimism, a tiny part of her was battening down the hatches for disaster and disappointment.

Rosie regarded her in the glow of the fire. “No, there’s no rush,” she said. “And we could sit here like mature adults and discuss our potential future and promise each other the world. Or”—she reached into the pocket of her hoodie—“you can teach me how to suck this brew up through a Twix.”

Jem laughed, raising Rosie’s hand and kissing her fingers before taking the bar of chocolate from her. “I’m not sure we’ll ever be mature adults.” She tore open the wrapper and handed Rosie one half of the Twix. “Right, here goes, and it’s very technical, so pay close attention.”

Rosie nodded, her expression rapt. She was holding the Twix exactly as Jem was, as if that made a difference.

“Step one,” Jem said. “Bite the top end off your Twix.” She demonstrated for good measure, chewing and swallowing as Rosie followed suit. “Step two: bite the bottom end off.”

Rosie giggled around a chunk of shortbread. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”

“You never know.” Jem positioned their mugs at the edge of the table. “There might be a shock twist.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And the final step: stick one end into your brew and suck the other end really hard.”

“On three.” Rosie dunked her bar and readied herself. “Okay, three.” She lowered her head and took a prodigious slurp. She was grinning when she came back up. “Hey, it works!”

“Did you doubt me?” Jem touched her thumb to the chocolate coating Rosie’s lips. “You missed a bit.”

“Yeah?” Rosie flicked her tongue out, but she didn’t seem to be trying very hard. “Whereabouts?”

“Everywhere,” Jem said, and did a far more thorough job with her tongue than Rosie had. She heard Rosie moan and felt her turn her head a fraction, and then they were kissing like teenagers: no finesse and little coordination, their teeth and tongues clashing and their hands roaming. A mess of sensations shot through Jem, giving her a head rush that almost tipped her onto the cushions.

“Here or upstairs?” Rosie asked. Her hands skimmed over Jem’s bra as she kissed the faint scars below Jem’s eye.

“Here.” Jem didn’t think she was capable of stairs, but she caught hold of Rosie’s wrists, trying to be practical. “What about your leg?” They had been patient, waiting for Rosie to heal, and they had never let things get this far.