She felt him tense beside her for a moment, then take the next clean pot from her. “You mean, with us.”

It wasn’t a question and Lucy tried to read the tone of his voice. Focusing on the scrubbing of some particularly stubborn baked-on grease, she swallowed the lump in her throat and proceeded. “Yes, exactly. I mean, I’m off to England the day after tomorrow, as you know, and I wondered if … well, I’d like to continue with us … That is, if you want to.”

He stopped drying the pot, his hands coming to rest on the countertop.

“Do, you … want to?” she asked. This was even more difficult than sending those emails to Angela. She stared into the sudsy water with bated breath.

“Lucy. Hey, Luce, look at me.” This is it—be brave. She lifted her gaze to his, hopeful, terrified.

“Look, neither of us could ever have known how this Christmas would turn out. I mean, Jules came back from Australia early—with a boyfriend. Archer Tate just cooked me dinner, and now he’s sitting in my living room.” He grinned down at her and, without thinking, she reciprocated. “But the biggest surprise—the best surprise—is you, Lucy. And, yes, I think we should continue with us. I’ve never done long distance before, but we’ve gotta see, right?”

It was the perfect response, and it left her speechless. “Lucy?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely right. We have to see. So, long distance it is!”

“Awesome,” he said, leaning in to seal their plan with a kiss. “So, is this why we’re cleaning up the kitchen, just the two of us?”

She blew out a sigh, then resumed the washing up. “Yes, sorry about that. It’s just been hard to get you alone since the others arrived, and I’ve been putting it off …” She tilted her head and shrugged.

“Hey, it’s all good. And you weren’t the only one putting it off, you know. So, thank you.”

She looked up. “For what?”

“For being brave enough to ask me about it.” He leant over and kissed her forehead.

Brave. Until recently, she would never have called herself that. But perhaps the Lucy that other people knew—that Will knew—was closer to the real Lucy.

Lucy Browning—brave, formidable, beautiful, and a lusty nymph to boot.

She giggled to herself and handed the last of the clean pots to Will.

*

Chloe leant back against the soft leather of the couch, her feet tucked under her and Archer’s hand resting on her thigh. Would she even make it to midnight, she wondered. She’d hit a wall and it could have been anything from jet lag to the highs and lows of the week’s events catching up with her. Maybe it was a mix. Still, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

She’d spoken to Ash earlier, just after the clock struck midnight in Melbourne, eager to see her friend’s face and to wish her a happy New Year. Ash and her team were running an event for the City of Melbourne—live music, food trucks, fireworks, the lot—but she’d been able to sneak away for a few minutes.