Chapter Thirty-Five
The word hung in the air between them. Wait.
Annabelle's heart was pounding so hard she was certain everyone in the library could hear it. But she didn't care. For once in her life, she wasn't going to let perfect be the enemy of good. She wasn't going to let fear win.
Raven had frozen mid-step, her back still to Annabelle, shoulders rigid with tension.
"Wait," Annabelle said again, softer this time.
Raven turned slowly, and the look on her face nearly broke Annabelle's heart. It was raw and vulnerable and terrified, everything Raven usually tried so hard to hide behind snark and eye-rolling and electric guitar solos.
"Annabelle…"
"No, let me…" Annabelle took a shaky breath. This was it. Her chance to be honest. To stop pretending everything was fine when it very clearly wasn't. "I need to say this."
The corridor felt impossibly small, just the two of them and the sound of muffled applause from the library beyond. Annabelle could hear Lily's voice announcing refreshments, hear the scrape of chairs, the excited chatter of children.
But all she could see was Raven.
"I'm not okay," Annabelle said, and her voice cracked on the words. "I'm really, really not okay."
Raven's expression shifted, something fierce and protective flashing across her face. She took a step closer. "Belle…"
"No, please, I need to, I need to get this out.
" Annabelle pressed her palms together, a prayer or a plea or just something to keep her hands from shaking.
"You asked me if I was alright, and I said I'd think about the charity, and I let you start to walk away because that's what I do.
I smile and I say everything's fine and I let people think I'm this perpetually cheerful person who never needs anything. "
"You are perpetually cheerful," Raven said, but her voice was gentle, not teasing.
"Well, I'm not feeling very cheerful right now.
" Annabelle's eyes were burning. She blinked hard, refusing to cry.
Not yet. "Not being with you is worse than not having oxygen, Raven.
It's like someone turned off the sun and forgot to mention it.
And I know that sounds dramatic and over-the-top and very much like something I'd say, but it's true. It's so bloody true it hurts."
Raven opened her mouth, then closed it again. Annabelle could see her throat work as she swallowed.
"And for once in my life," Annabelle continued, the words tumbling out now, "I'm in a situation I don't know how to fix.
I can't bake my way out of this. I can't organize a committee or make a to-do list or smile until everything magically gets better.
I can't fix you leaving. I can't fix us.
And it's absolutely terrifying because fixing things is what I do. "
She was crying now. Couldn't help it. The tears were hot on her cheeks and her nose was running and she probably looked a complete mess, but she didn't care. Didn't care about being perfect or put-together or any of the things she usually worried about.
"I just…" Her voice broke. "I just need you to know that I'm hurting. That I miss you. That even if you don't… if you can't…"
"Stop." The word was fierce, and then Raven was right there, right in front of her, close enough that Annabelle could smell her musky perfume and see the emotion in her brown eyes. "Stop, Annabelle. Please."
Raven lifted her hands, hesitated for just a moment, then cupped Annabelle's face, thumbs brushing away tears with a tenderness that made Annabelle's chest ache.
"I'm not perfect," Raven said, and her voice was rough. "I am so spectacularly far from perfect it's not even funny. I'm moody and difficult and I push people away when they get too close. I run when things get hard. I sabotage good things because I'm terrified they won't last."
"Raven…"
"But for some reason," Raven continued, her eyes never leaving Annabelle's, "being with you makes me better.
Calmer. I don't know why, but you make me want to try to be…
not perfect, because that's never going to happen, but maybe just a little bit less of a disaster.
And my music…" She swallowed hard. "You gave me my music back, Annabelle.
I haven't been able to write in months, and then you showed up at my door with your ridiculous biscuits and your dinosaur pajamas and suddenly I could write again. "
Annabelle let out a watery laugh. "The pajamas were very practical."
"They were hideous," Raven said, but she was almost smiling now, that crooked half-smile that made Annabelle's stomach flip. "But also somehow perfect."
The word hung between them. Perfect.
"I'm terrified," Raven said quietly. "I'm absolutely terrified because I have no idea why someone like you would want someone like me. You're sunshine and optimism and everything good in the world, and I'm…I'm just not."
"I don't want sunshine," Annabelle said. "I am sunshine. I want the storm. I want the thunder and the lightning and the rain. I want someone who challenges me and argues with me and tells me when I'm being too much."
"You're never too much."
"See, that's exactly what I mean." Annabelle managed a shaky smile. "You say things like that and I completely fall apart."
Raven's expression softened. Her thumbs were still tracing gentle patterns on Annabelle's cheeks, and Annabelle was fairly certain she was never going to breathe normally again.
"There's more," Raven said, and now she was the one who sounded terrified. "I need to…Christ, this is hard." She took a deep breath. "I think I might be in love with you."
The world stopped.
Just… stopped.
Annabelle's brain short-circuited somewhere between think and love, and all she could do was stare at Raven with what was probably a completely ridiculous expression on her face.
"You… what?"
"I think," Raven emphasized, and there was the vulnerability again, raw and painful and beautiful.
"I'm not…I've never been good at this. At feelings and words and all the things you're supposed to say.
But I know that when I'm with you, I feel like maybe I'm not completely broken.
And when I'm not with you, everything feels wrong.
So that's probably, I mean, that might be… I think it could be…"
"Love," Annabelle whispered.
"Yeah." Raven's hands were trembling against Annabelle's face. "Maybe. Probably. Yes."
Annabelle's heart was doing something strange in her chest.
But she didn't push. Didn't throw herself at Raven or declare her undying devotion or do any of the things she desperately wanted to do. Because this was too important. This was too fragile.
"So," she said carefully, "what are we going to do?"
Raven closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. When she spoke, her voice was steady. Determined.
"I can't move here permanently," she said. "I need my music. I need to tour and record and do all the things that make me who I am. But I want to be here when I'm not. I want this to be home. I want you to be home."
Annabelle's breath caught.
"I want to try," Raven continued. "If you still want me. I know it's not the fairytale ending you've been looking for. I know long-distance is hard and messy and complicated, and I can't promise it'll be perfect because nothing about me is perfect…"
"Imperfect is fine with me," Annabelle said.
"…but I can promise that I'll try. That I won't run. That I'll…" Raven stopped as Annabelle's words registered. "Wait, what?"
"Imperfect is fine with me." Annabelle was smiling now, really smiling, the kind of smile that came from somewhere deep in her chest. "I don't need perfect, Raven. I just need you."
She was already moving, already stepping into Raven's space, already opening her arms. And Raven, wonderful, difficult, complicated Raven, met her halfway.
The kiss was soft and desperate and full of promise. Annabelle's hands clasped Raven's shirt, pulling her closer, and Raven's arms wrapped around her waist, holding her like she was something precious.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Annabelle could hear something from the library beyond. Music. Shaky, uncertain music.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
They pulled apart just enough to look toward the sound.
Jamie was standing in the library doorway, Raven's guitar clutched in his small hands, concentrating fiercely as his fingers found the notes.
Behind him, crowding the doorway, was half the village.
Lily was trying not to smile. Daisy was openly crying.
Gloria had one hand pressed dramatically to her chest.
Jamie finished the song, or at least, finished as much of it as he knew, and looked up with a grin that was pure mischief.
"It's the only other song I know," he announced. "Even if it's not romantic."
Annabelle felt laughter bubbling up in her chest, the kind that was half joy and half disbelief. She was about to say something but Raven squeezed her hand to stop her.
"It's absolutely perfect," Raven said, and her voice was warm in a way Annabelle had never heard before. Public. Open. For everyone to hear.
She turned to face the crowd properly, her hand still firmly in Annabelle's, and raised her voice. "I don't suppose any of you would mind having me in the village? Fair warning: I'm terrible with small talk, I play guitar at inappropriate hours, and I have a bad habit of running away from things."
"We know," Arty called from somewhere in the back. "We've met you."
The crowd laughed, and Raven's expression shifted into something that might have been embarrassment. Annabelle squeezed her hand.
"We'd be delighted," Daisy said, bouncing on her toes. "Oh, this is so exciting! We'll have our very own rockstar!"
"I suppose it'll be no worse than having an actress in the village," Gloria announced with the air of someone bestowing a great compliment.
There was another ripple of laughter, and Annabelle felt something in her chest finally, finally settle. This was it. This was the moment where everything clicked into place. Not perfect, maybe, no, definitely not perfect, but real and messy and wonderfully, beautifully theirs.
Raven turned back to her, and the smile on her face was the one Annabelle loved best. The small, private one that was just for her.
"Ready to go face the masses?" Raven asked. "Bet the press are already waiting, they’re never far behind."
"With you?" Annabelle laced their fingers together properly, palm to palm. "Always."
And hand in hand, they walked back into the library.
Together.