Tilly let out a shuddery little breath. “Fine.” She paused. “Doctor Fennel advised me against coming here.”

“He didn’t think Lords was good for you?”

“He advised me against coming here with Declan,” Tilly clarified. “Against the move, against the engagement…” Tilly traced the tendons on the top of her bare foot. “He thought I was trying to fill somebody else’s shoes. And that I was being taken advantage of.”

Kate plucked at the grass. So it wasn’t just her who was so against Declan. It wasn’t just deep-seated jealousy that made her skin crawl at the thought of Tilly sharing her life with him. There was a reason. For a therapist to voice such an opinion, there had to be other things that Kate didn’t know about, insights Tilly had shared about things that had happened before they’d moved from the city to Mornington. In her heart, curiosity burned bright in a pit of sympathy. What on earth had warranted such a response from a therapist? And why had Tilly ignored the advice? Kate’s conscience purred. Does it matter anymore? Tilly was safe with her. Finally, they’d found each other—really, truly found each other. And the wanting? Kate bit the inside of her cheek. Their night together hadn’t done anything to quell her desire. She wanted it again. All of it. Over and over and over again.

Tilly sighed. “Well go ahead. Say whatever it is that you feel compelled to say.”

“All I want to do is kiss you.”

Tilly’s gaze softened.

Face growing hot, Kate looked away. It was silly, to feel so bashful when last night they’d been skin against skin. Still, she couldn’t help it.

Tilly’s hand skittered across the grass, inches from her own. “You’re so experienced,” she whispered.

Kate stripped a blade of grass. “Not really.”

“Yes. You are.”

Tilly slipped down to lie beside her. Between them, the paper bag crinkled. The tips of Tilly’s fingers grazed her own. Kate wove their fingers together. “You were so beautiful last night,” she said.

Tilly breathed her name, sheepish.

“You’ve never done that to yourself?” Kate whispered. “You haven’t tried?”

Tilly flushed. “You know I haven’t.”

Kate swallowed. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know that you shared that with me? Something so special?”

Tilly’s eyes slipped closed, and Kate watched as Tilly’s teeth sank into her bottom lip. Kate’s jaw set hard with emotion. After all that Tilly had confessed on the pier the night before, Kate’s heart was full with hope that this was it for them—Tilly wanted a future together. But Tilly hadn’t made any revelations about what she now planned to do. She hadn’t asked Kate to take her back to Declan’s to end it. Instead, here they were, waiting on the passenger ferry to carry their secret back to Lords.

Tilly couldn’t marry him—she’d said it herself. She hadn’t returned his ring to her hand. Tilly knew it was over, Kate knew it was over, and judging by the way Declan had glared at Kate the night before, he knew it was over, too. But over wasn’t ended. Tilly needed time, and for Kate to expect anything more right now was juvenile. The last thing Kate wanted was for her passion to come off as demanding. Pressuring Tilly would make her no better than him. That wasn’t fair.