Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Billie woke slowly, dragged back into consciousness by the unfamiliar weight of a duvet and the faint, domestic sounds of a life already in motion somewhere beyond the door.
She didn’t move for a few minutes. She lay perfectly still, staring at the pale ceiling above her, just listening.
The kettle clicked off and cutlery shifted inside a drawer.
Then she heard the radio playing low, and everything felt normal and safe.
And then it all came back.
Oh God.
She lifted her hand slowly and pressed it flat against her sternum, hoping she could physically hold herself together. She felt exposed in a way she hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. Last night hadn’t been messy passion or drunken regret. It had been something far worse. Regression.
She’d promised herself she would never do that again.
That she would never let herself slip backwards into that instinctive obedience or the desperate need to appease.
Gone were the days of apologising pre-emptively and making herself small enough to seem almost invisible…
until last night when she’d done it anyway.
Debra.
The realisation twisted inside her. Debra had seen it. Not just the tears or the panic, but the shape of Billie when she was no longer in control of herself. The version she worked every day to keep buried.
Billie squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted so desperately to stay in this room and curl back under the covers, disappearing before Debra had to look at her again. Before the questions came. Before the judgement, the pity, or worse…the distance of someone who now understood too much.
But Debra deserved the truth.
If she was going to walk away—and Billie suspected she would—then she deserved to do it with clarity and honesty. She deserved to walk away with the knowledge that none of this had been her fault.
Billie pushed herself upright, but her body protested immediately.
She was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t touch.
Every muscle felt heavy, and every thought was dulled at the edges.
She dressed slowly, choosing the clothes Debra had laid out for her without comment the night before.
That kindness alone had made her throat well with emotion.
She paused at the bedroom door, her fingers hovering over the handle.
You can do this, she told herself. Just walk into the room. Just exist.
She stepped out reluctantly, bracing herself for whatever came next.
Debra stood at the kitchen counter, her blonde hair pulled back loosely, the sleeves of her hoodie pushed up to her forearms as she moved with ease through her space.
There was a stack of toast on a plate and a pan cooling on the hob, then she caught the scent of coffee as it reached her.
God, Billie hoped she would be offered a cup before she braved the chill outside.
It would give her a hint of energy if nothing else.
Debra turned when she sensed Billie was standing there. “Hi, good morning.”
No edge. No tension.
Billie swallowed. “Mornin’.”
Debra’s eyes cast over her quickly—not assessing or searching for answers—just checking. “How are you feeling?”
The truthful answer felt too huge to say out loud before caffeine, so she settled on something simple. “Tired.”
Debra nodded, thankfully accepting that without pushing. “I’ve made breakfast. It’s nothing fancy, and you don’t have to eat much, but you should probably have something.”
“I—” Billie stopped herself. Arguing felt pointless, so she nodded instead. “Okay.”
They sat at the small dining table together, the stillness between them surprisingly gentle. Debra poured her coffee, passed Billie a cup, and asked if she wanted milk and sugar.
Normal questions. Something Billie wasn’t used to.
Billie waited for the moment when everything would tilt. The anger would come, the hurt would be visible, and the inevitable reckoning would commence…but it never came.
Instead… “Do you need anything this morning, Billie? A shower, someone you can talk to…time?”
The simplicity of Debra’s attitude and demeanour almost broke her. “No, thank you. This is more than enough.”
Debra studied her, then nodded. “Before you leave here, I want you to know something.”
Billie’s shoulders tensed. She’d known it was too good to be true. Debra was about to tell her exactly what she thought of her.
“I’m not angry with you,” Debra said. “I was initially hurt, yes, and then I realised I had no right to be. We weren’t together. We’re…not together. What you do with Nina is none of my business.”
Billie looked up and frowned. “It was—”
“Billie…” Debra cut her off softly. “Whatever you went through last night as a result of me walking in on you and Nina, you didn’t choose it, and you didn’t deserve it.”
“Oh, I did deserve it. The way I’ve treated you…how I’ve pushed you away time and time again.”
“You protected yourself in the only way you knew how,” Debra replied. “That doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human.”
Billie stared down at the slice of toast on the plate in front of her, her hand clenching around her cup. “I don’t understand why you’re even being nice to me,” she admitted. “After everything I’ve done…”
“Because I see what you’re going through.” Debra gave her a small, sad smile. “And because shouting wouldn’t help either of us. It never does.”
Choosing to mull over the things Debra was saying, Billie sat silently at the table and managed a piece of toast with her coffee.
Perhaps the quiet would help her this morning.
Perhaps it would just eventually make everything feel terrible again.
Either way, Billie was at a loss for words.
She wasn’t used to or expecting anyone’s kindness, least of all Debra’s.
When they finished eating, Debra stood and reached for her keys. “I’m going to drive you home.”
Billie half-rose from her chair. “You really don’t have to do that.”
“I’d like to, and I’m not sure you’re in the right frame of mind to walk across London after last night.”
Billie didn’t argue; she didn’t have the energy to. But if she was being honest, the idea of going home alone right now terrified her more than she wanted to admit.
The drive had been quiet, even as they’d sat in traffic for the best part of an hour.
There was nothing tense about it; it felt more as though Debra was giving them both a moment to process the last twenty-four hours than anything else.
Billie appreciated it, even if she had spent the journey watching the city pass by through the window, feeling hollow and oddly fragile.
When they pulled up outside Billie’s building, neither of them moved an inch.
The engine idled, the sound filling the space where words may have landed if either of them had the energy to try out a conversation.
Billie stared ahead through the windscreen, her hands folded loosely in her lap.
She was entirely exhausted now, not only from her setback last night, but from the weight of everything she felt unable to say.
“Debra.” Billie turned in her seat and cleared her throat.
“Yes?”
“I will tell you about last night. About all of it. I won’t hide it from you.” Billie took a breath. “I just…I might need a little time to say it properly.”
Debra nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
The constant ache in Billie’s chest eased at that. At least, enough for her to feel as though she could breathe again.
She reached for the door handle, then paused, her hand stopping short as a different thought surfaced. One she hadn’t planned, but one she couldn’t ignore.
“Would you, um…” Billie glanced back at her, uncertainty almost fighting its way through. “Would you like to come in for a coffee?”
That question felt enormous. Not because it was romantic or loaded, but because it was an invitation Billie had never offered to anyone before.
Debra studied her for a moment, clearly weighing the question for what it was…and what it wasn’t. “I’d like that, but only if you’re sure.”
Billie nodded, relief coursing through her tired, aching bones. “I am.”
They got out of the car together, and Billie inhaled a deep breath of morning air. As she unlocked the door to her building, Billie felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest. For once, it wasn’t fear…but a sense that maybe she didn’t have to face what came next entirely on her own.
Of all the places she could have ended up today with Debra, Billie’s apartment had not been what she’d initially had in mind. As she stepped inside, the order she’d maintained was visible for all to see. Everything was in its place, predictable and, quite frankly, sad on reflection.
Billie hovered just inside the doorway, her keys clutched in her hand and her heart racing, considering she was in her own calm space. She hadn’t meant to pause at the door, but she had—long enough to feel those old reflexes claw at her ribs—before she stepped aside to let Debra in.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not very exciting.”
Debra smiled. “It’s yours.”
That alone almost had Billie sinking to the floor with a sob.
Debra moved through the space without scrutiny or judgement.
She didn’t comment on the lack of personal clutter or ask why it felt so carefully curated.
She simply took in the light, the neat bookshelf, and the art, and when she sat down on Billie’s couch—crossing her legs and entirely at ease—everything within Billie relaxed.
God. She looks so right sitting there.
That thought initially frightened her, but Billie focused on making coffee, hyper-aware of Debra’s eyes on her but not necessarily overwhelmed.
The silence between them had never felt awkward, and even now, after everything that had happened last night, Billie felt calm.
Well, as calm as she could feel knowing Debra had seen a side of her that she hoped nobody would ever see again.