The words are offered in a whisper, but it’s sure. It’s absolutely certain and Caroline’s gaze snaps up, locking on Hannah’s as her heart races.

Hannah loves her. She hadn’t pushed. She hadn’t stumbled and totally crossed a line.

“Trust, for me, is harder than love,” Hannah whispers, her mouth falling open as a breath trembles out. “I spent ten years playing everything so close to the vest, with a partner who… really wasn’t a partner. I didn’t believe a word he said.” There are tears in her eyes and as she smiles, they fall. “But I do. I trust you. With my daughter and with me. All of me. And I want to take the leap with you, Caroline. Sometimes I might not be able to find the right words, but I feel them.”

She can’t resist anymore. Her hands are itching to touch her and she doesn’t stop herself.

She cups Hannah’s jaw, thumbs stroking away the damp path of her tears, lips soft as they meld to Hannah’s. And she is very, very mindful of the drawings on her lap; she might just have to get them framed. Well, some of them.

After all, there are quite a lot.

She takes care to gently put the portfolio next to her on the table as she feels Hannah’s tongue slide against her lips, stealing a whimper from her mouth.

***

She spends Christmas with Hannah and Abbie.

There’s Christmas music that plays on a loop for hours and she’s been tasked with wearing a Santa hat, but she doesn’t give a damn.

Hannah sits next to her on the couch, leaning in close, her hand resting on its spot on Caroline’s thigh. But it seems that Abbie is far more preoccupied with her gifts than she is with them.

Caroline’s pretty sure all of the gifts have been opened when Abbie approaches her, a small box in her hands and a bright smile on her face. “And this is for you!”

Hannah’s hand stills on her thigh but, Caroline notes, doesn’t drop.

Caroline arches her eyebrows. “I thought I got my presents from you, already?”

She thinks about the small stockpile of gifts she’d been given – several books that she’d expressed interest in through the last few months, a heated blanket for the many times she complained of being cold during movie nights, and her favorite: personalized pens that Abbie had picked out, as Abbie loved to remark on Caroline’s “fancy pens” when they worked together at Caroline’s kitchen table.

“This one’s just from me. Not mom.” Abbie nods determinedly as she tells her, bouncing on her tiptoes and back down.

Caroline exchanges a look with Hannah who frowns and shrugs, the hand on Caroline’s thigh squeezing lightly and sending a rush of warmth through her.