“We don’t have to rush this,” Kate said. “I know there are other things to deal with…to take care of. I just want us to keep talking about what it is that we want, about how we’re feeling. I don’t want us to slip into how we were after Melbourne.”

Tilly’s eyes opened. She released a breath. “Thank you.”

This—right now—was enough. Being alone with Tilly in the real world, away from St. Joan’s, was enough. In fact, it was something she’d once fantasised about. The simplicity, the normalcy, had always seemed so out of reach. “You know, when we were kids,” she said, “I used to think about what it would be like to date you. Where I’d want to take you…”

Tilly’s thumb slipped over her knuckles. “And where did you want to take me?”

Maybrook Maze wasn’t the largest or most impressive of the two mazes on the peninsula, but what it lacked in comparison to Carol Gardens—fancy tearooms and the costly display of handcrafted miniature steam trains—Maybrook made up for in serenity. Three walls into the maze, they’d only passed two other couples, the privacy a blessing Kate hadn’t anticipated when she’d paid their entry at the gates.

For the third time since they’d ventured inside the hedge maze, they arrived at a bottleneck. “This way?” Tilly pointed to the shadier of the two routes.

Kate shrugged. “Where you lead, I will follow.”

Tilly quirked an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerous.”

Kate grinned. “It probably is.”

They turned down the right passageway and Kate was glad for the reprieve from the sun. The day had turned surprisingly hot and Tilly had shed her soft cardigan in the van. She watched, amused, as Tilly sipped incessantly at the straw of her cup of lemonade. A nervous quirk? Tilly’s pink lips puckered tight around the straw. Want bubbled in Kate. They hadn’t kissed since the cabin that morning and Kate was itching to feel Tilly’s lips against her own. Since she’d confessed the desire at breakfast, she could feel that Tilly was anticipating it too. Maybe, if Tilly would stop sipping away like the straw was surgically attached to her lips, Kate could make a move and indulge them both.

Deep in the maze, they could still hear the soft, sweet melody of the busker they’d passed outside the boundary. “I used to busk when I was in uni,” Kate said offhandedly.

“You did?” Tilly asked. “Where?”

“A few places. Swanston Street in front of the state library. Southbank, sometimes. Mostly the tunnels at Flinders Street Station, though.”

Tilly frowned. “I used to sit on the grass in front of the state library and study in the sun. I never saw you.”

“It was mostly nights, rush hour. And I’m talking early days—eighteen, nineteen. You would have been overseas. I was kind of desperate for cash and Rebecca Mason got me into it. We played guitar together sometimes when she came into the city from Ballarat. We did Joni Mitchell to death down in the tunnels. Ten years later and I still can’t hear Both Sides Now without feeling claustrophobic.”