She looked out at Spencer Street, her voice softening as she seemed to disappear into her own little world. “You still make me feel that way,” she murmured.

At the green light at the intersection, a taxi pressed on his horn, unrelenting until the car in front accelerated.

Tilly looked up. Kate held her gaze. The question itched beneath her skin, begging to be asked. Was it the right time? It felt like the right time. “I want to know something,” Kate admitted. “And don’t feel you have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you take your vows?”

Tilly sighed. “When I was a missionary, I met so many beautiful children. Children who had nothing, children without parents. Without love. My heart ached for them, Kate, but it ached for me too. Papua New Guinea changed everything. I came home and started studying teaching at uni and the months passed and I found the song in my heart changing. Joining the sisterhood wasn’t the plan I thought God had for me.” She paused. “He wants me to be a mother.”

Kate sipped at her coffee. “And is that what you want?”

Tilly nodded. “More than anything.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I would have made a very good sister, anyway.” She tore the end off a sachet of sugar and poured it into her cup. “I didn’t have the commitment.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she stared down into her tea. “And I’m not as pure as you might think.”

Kate’s heartbeat fired. She twirled her spoon around the surface of her cappuccino, scraping chocolate from froth. “What, uh, what do you mean?”

Tilly looked up at her through her lashes. “Sometimes I have…thoughts,” she whispered.

Kate inched closer on her stool. “Thoughts?”

There was a glint in Tilly’s eye that betrayed the shameful lilt to her voice—Tilly was curious. Tilly wanted to talk about it. “Mhm.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

Tilly looked around the café.

“Nobody can hear us,” Kate assured her.

Tilly nodded. Nervously, she played with the empty sachet, twirling it around her finger. “There was this film late one night,” she started. “On television. I was about to change the channel, but I found myself just…” She hesitated. “I couldn’t stop watching. It was like I was hypnotised.”

As Tilly looked down into her tea, Kate swallowed, hard.

Tilly wet her lips. “When it was over…” she said, her voice low, “…my underwear was ruined. I think I must have had an orgasm.” She paused. “Do you…do you think that’s what it was?”

The question stole the breath from Kate’s lungs. She pressed her fist to her mouth and resisted the urge to bite down. Must have. Tilly didn’t know. It was suddenly too warm at the window. How could Kate tell her that, no, it didn’t sound like she’d had an orgasm—that if she had, she’d know it. How could Kate tell her that without humiliating her?

Tilly’s eyes bore into the side of her face, waiting for an answer. “Um, maybe,” Kate said, pressure growing in her chest. What if Tilly never knew that kind of pleasure? The thought of Declan’s hands on Tilly’s body had jealousy leaking into her veins, rich like poison. He was so much older than Tilly, and all the more maddening was the fact that he was slack with disregard for Tilly’s happiness. He had already proven himself selfish in so many ways—she could only assume that he would be selfish in that department too. Tilly was only thirty. She had so much life ahead of her. Kate wanted to be the one to make love to her, to worship her body, to pleasure her in ways that would take her to the edge of destruction, to love her hard enough to keep her on that blissful edge for as long as Tilly desired.