Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Just focus.
She glared at her untouched cup of coffee.
The steam had faded some time ago now, the cold cup sitting beside her mobile phone looking as useless as Emma had felt since yesterday.
Everything just seemed like a waste of time.
Her job…because what was the point in leading the kids of the future if she couldn’t see her own flesh and blood?
Her marriage…because what could she possibly offer to Vanessa if she felt so low?
Her life…because it meant nothing if Freya was walking around in the world without a connection to Emma.
Everything was pointless now.
Her phone started to vibrate on the table, buzzing against the wood incessantly. Emma reached for it, but she didn’t recognise the number calling her.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Emma Bradley?”
“I…it’s Emma Hughes, but yes. Speaking.”
“Hi Emma, my name is Nia Spencer. I’m the social worker currently assigned to Freya Fields. Ellie Hamilton passed along your number with your permission.”
“Y-yes, that’s fine.” Emma sat up straighter and curled her hand around her cold coffee. “How can I help you?”
“I believe Ms Hamilton has made you aware of a meeting I’d like to schedule with you,” Nia said. “I can confirm we’re ready to proceed with a formal discussion regarding the next steps in relation to you and Freya.”
Emma frowned. “The…meeting is going ahead?”
While she hadn’t had time to tell Ellie a meeting wouldn’t be necessary, Emma hadn’t thought this call would come through. She’d expected Carmen to go home last night and call it off herself, given how things had ended. “With everyone’s permission?”
“Yes,” Nia replied. “Following a preliminary discussion with Carmen and Ben, they’ve agreed that a facilitated conversation is in everyone’s best interests. Ellie is on board, and I believe your wife will also be present, if you’re comfortable with that.”
Emma’s fingers tightened around the mug.
Carmen had agreed to a meeting?
Emma’s throat constricted, but she swallowed down the emotion. “Yes, of course. I’m happy for anyone who should be present to be there.”
“Ellie and I thought it best if we scheduled it at your earliest convenience. We want to respect your time and your emotional well-being here.”
Emma’s lips parted. “At my convenience?”
“Yes. We understand this situation has been difficult for you, and we want you to feel that you have some control over how and when we move forward. We can meet as early as next week if you feel ready. Ellie’s offered her office, which I think is a sensible, neutral space.”
Emma nodded slowly, shocked by the turn of events. “Right. Okay. That’s…that’s sooner than I expected.”
“You’re under no pressure,” Nia assured her.
“But I do want to be honest with you. Freya is asking questions, and we believe it’s healthier to provide answers in a controlled, supported environment than to allow uncertainty to build for her.
Especially since she’s the one who initiated the conversation with you. ”
Emma exhaled slowly. God, she couldn’t deal with her heart constantly racing. It wasn’t healthy. “I understand.”
There was so much more she could say. So much she wanted to say. That Carmen had already been to the house. That she’d told Emma she didn’t belong. That she’d practically stormed out, leaving Emma in tears and Vanessa close to furious.
But Emma didn’t say it, and she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to make things harder, and she didn’t want to sound like she was trying to build a case.
This wasn’t about defending herself. This was about Freya, and it always would be.
“Would next Friday work for you?” Nia asked. “Ms Hamilton is free after lunch, and she’s confirmed your wife is available based on her timetable.”
Did Vanessa even know this was happening? Emma guessed not. She would have contacted Emma the moment she’d spoken with Ellie or Nia if that kind of conversation had taken place. “Yes. That’s fine.”
“Perfect. I’ll send you confirmation by email, along with a basic outline of the agenda, just so you’re prepared. We’ll be focusing on next steps—potential contact, any concerns, and how we can support Freya emotionally.”
“That’s the most important thing to me. Freya and what’s best for her.” Emma’s voice trembled, and then what Nia had said finally clicked. Potential contact. Fuck, she needed a minute to understand what was happening here. “I appreciate you reaching out.”
“I know this hasn’t been easy, Emma, but you’ve handled this with more care and restraint than many people would.”
Emma blinked back tears. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next week. I look forward to meeting you.”
“Yes, you too.”
Emma ended the call and sat frozen in place. Just ten minutes ago, she had been preparing herself to lose Freya for good, but now…there was hope. How? None of this made any sense.
Maybe it’s not meant to make sense right now…
Emma lowered her phone to the table and closed the mock exam file she’d been working on for the last hour. She’d already struggled to concentrate, and after that call, there was no chance it was going to get any better.
“Baby?” The front door opened, and Vanessa’s voice floated into the kitchen.
“In here.” Emma gathered her files and stacked them in one corner of the table. They didn’t work down here unless absolutely necessary, but today it had been. Emma simply couldn’t find the energy to make it up the stairs to their office.
As she looked up at the kitchen door, Emma couldn’t shake the weight still pressing against her chest. She knew she should feel relieved, a meeting was happening, but Emma could still see Carmen standing in the living room, glaring at her as though she hated her.
What had changed, and why had Carmen agreed?
Emma had no idea, but whatever it was, she wasn’t questioning it yet. She also wasn’t getting her hopes up. Everything felt far too precarious at the moment.
“Are you finished working?” Vanessa asked as she lowered her handbag to the table. “Only I was hoping I could steal my wife’s attention for a few hours.”
“Sure. What’s up, babe?”
“You and I have a date with Guiseppe tonight.”
Emma’s stomach growled as she got to her feet, rounded the table, and wrapped her arms around Vanessa’s waist. “He’s not coming home with us. That’s just weird.”
“Agreed. But we can deal with his exceptionally good food.”
Emma drew Vanessa in and kissed her slowly. For the first time in days, she felt as though she could breathe just a little better. “You, my beautiful wife, mean the world to me. I hope you know that.”
Vanessa lifted a hand and cupped Emma’s cheek. “I haven’t done anything other than walk through the door and offer you Italian.”
Emma lifted a shoulder. “And sometimes that’s enough.”
“Mm.” Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Something is going on.”
“Nia, the social worker, has just called me. She’s lovely, for a start…and she’s asked if I’m available next Friday after lunch for the meeting.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened as a grin spread on her mouth. “Really?”
“Yes, and Ellie has already kindly checked your availability for you. So, would you come with me still?”
“I wouldn’t ever be anywhere else. You know that.” Vanessa guided Emma out of the kitchen and up the stairs. When they landed outside the bathroom, she lifted a brow. “Now, are we showering together or apart?”
“Oh, together. Tonight is our night, and I’m making the most of it while I don’t feel like the world is ending.”
Vanessa leaned in, nipped at Emma’s bottom lip, and whispered, “Then get that delicious body naked. I have a sudden craving to taste it…inch by inch.”
Emma peeled her T-shirt over her head and relaxed fully. She couldn’t do any more until next Friday, but she could be fully present within her marriage. “What time is our reservation?”
Vanessa nudged Emma back towards the bathroom door and cocked her head. “Whenever I’m finished with you.”
Vanessa swirled the wine in her glass, watching the candlelight catch the dark red liquid before setting it down gently on the white-linen tablecloth.
Conversation and clinking cutlery surrounded her, but none of it pulled her attention away from the woman across the table.
Emma looked relaxed for the first time in weeks.
Not completely, but enough to satisfy Vanessa this evening.
There was still a tightness to Emma’s shoulders, and every now and then she’d have that distant look on her face, but she had colour back in her cheeks and those eyes…
oh, those eyes were the very same eyes Vanessa had fallen in love with.
And tonight, they were softer than they had been in a while.
Vanessa had missed them.
She reached across the table and brushed her fingers against Emma’s hand. “Do you realise that this is the most peaceful I’ve seen you looking in a while?”
Emma smiled. “It’s not really peace that I feel. But hope…yeah. I’m feeling a little more hopeful.”
Vanessa let out a breath. “That was all I wanted for you. Not even answers yet. Just something for you to hold on to.”
They sat in one of Giuseppe’s corner booths—Emma’s favourite one to be exact—tucked beside the old stone wall adorned with framed photographs from the forty-plus years they’d been in business.
It was quieter back here, and Vanessa had made sure of its availability when she’d booked.
She wanted space for them to be exactly who they were.
No performance. No brave face. Just them.
The waiter arrived with a fresh breadbasket, murmuring something warm in Italian, which Vanessa responded to with a nod and a quick “Grazie.” Emma immediately reached for a warm piece, tore it in half, and offered one to Vanessa.
Vanessa accepted it, then leaned back slightly and watched her wife.
“Do you want to talk about the call again, or would you rather take the night off?”
Emma nibbled at the edge of her bread before answering. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to rehash every detail and analyse it all, but the other part of me just wants to enjoy this. You. Us.”
Vanessa settled her hand over Emma’s and dipped her head. “You can have both, you know. You’re allowed to be happy, Emma.”
“I know.” Emma toyed with Vanessa’s fingertips, then glanced up, a more honest smile forcing its way through. “I feel like I’ve been living with this horrible dread in my stomach, and now, I can’t remember how to be happy without waiting for it to turn.”
Vanessa squeezed Emma’s hand. “Well, then let’s practice.”
Emma tilted her head. “Practice being happy?”
“Practice letting it in. Practice believing that you deserve it. Because you do.”
Emma visibly swallowed as she stroked her thumb slowly over the back of Vanessa’s hand. “Thank you. For never walking away from me, even when I’m not the easiest person to love.”
“You are the easiest person to love. What’s hard is watching you carry things alone. What’s hard is not being able to fix it for you.”
Emma looked away for a moment and sighed. “Next Friday is going to change everything.”
“I think so, too.” Vanessa hesitated, then added, “But even if it doesn’t change things the way we hope, it’s still a beginning. And you’ve already done the hardest part, Emma. You showed up.”
A server appeared beside them and placed their meals on the table. A creamy mushroom risotto for Vanessa and Emma’s usual spicy arrabbiata with grilled prawns. Emma’s eyes lit up, and Vanessa gave a satisfied smile in the server’s direction.
She focused back on Emma, who was already spinning her spaghetti around her fork, and allowed the moment to settle in her mind.
“I knew Italian would be the right call tonight.” For so many nights during Vanessa’s own recovery, Emma had insisted that Italian food warmed the heart and soul.
That it was always the answer when life felt a little tough.
Right here and right now, Vanessa absolutely agreed. “Don’t you think?”
Emma looked up, her forkful of pasta hovering close to her mouth. “This might just be the best thing that’s happened to me today.”
Vanessa took a bite of her risotto and moaned softly. “Second-best, surely?”
Emma lifted a brow. “Second?”
“You got to have a date with your wife,” Vanessa said as she grinned. “That’s surely up there at number one.”
“You’ll always be number one, babe. Always.”
They ate slowly, talking about nothing and everything.
A student of Vanessa’s had handed in a piece of work riddled with AI, and one of Emma’s Year 10 students had accidentally kicked a football at one of the lunch staff, breaking her arm in three places.
It wasn’t anything spectacular in terms of conversation, but it was with Emma, so Vanessa didn’t care.
And for the first time since Emma had learned the truth, they didn’t circle back to Freya, or Carmen, or to the sting of the past.
Instead, it moved forward.
After dinner, Vanessa ordered espresso and tiramisu for them to share, though she already knew Emma would steal most of it with no remorse.
Sure enough, two bites in, Emma was cradling her espresso like a prize and scooping up the last of the mascarpone with an unapologetic grin as she repeatedly moaned her approval.
“What?” Emma lifted a shoulder mid-chew. “You said I deserved to be happy. I’m being happy.”
Vanessa slipped cash into the leather wallet waiting on the edge of the table and lifted a brow. “By stealing my dessert?”
“I’m. Being. Happy.”
Vanessa laughed and leaned back, allowing the warmth of the moment to settle in her chest. She hadn’t realised how much she’d needed this—they’d needed this—until now. This softness, this steadiness, this…love.
Because moments like this were what they’d fought for over the years. Moments like this were what they kept choosing.
As they stood to leave, Vanessa placed a protective hand on Emma’s lower back, guiding her gently through the tables towards the exit. The cold air hit them as they stepped outside, but neither of them minded.
The night was clear, calm, and for the first time since life had changed for Emma…full of possibility.
Vanessa glanced sideways, watching Emma gaze up at the stars for a moment, her arms folded, and a small smile on her lips. “I’ll be right beside you next week,” Vanessa said quietly. “I’ll always be by your side, Emma.”
Emma turned to her. “I know.”
“And no matter what comes from that meeting, nothing changes this. Nothing changes us.” Emma stepped in, wrapped both arms around Vanessa’s neck, and pressed a warm, gentle kiss to her lips. When they pulled apart, Vanessa whispered, “Let’s go home.”