Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
One Month Later…
Billie hadn’t planned to come back here. She’d convinced herself it was a free hour between appointments and a desire to be anywhere other than her office or her apartment, but the truth settled inside of her the moment she stepped through the museum doors. Here, she felt close to Debra.
Everything felt the same, a space designed for reflection and a place where time slowed, whether you wanted it to or not, but this time around…she moved through it carefully. Because this had been the very place where she’d allowed herself to forget who she was supposed to be.
Her hands were clasped behind her back out of habit, her posture immaculate as she wore a composed expression.
From the outside, she looked exactly like the Billie Brown most people knew.
Calm and self-contained. No one could see the effort it took to remain that way, or the way memories pressed in from all sides.
A month ago, she’d been raw and entirely unravelling.
She’d been terrified of what she wanted and couldn’t imagine ever being the person she was before Janet.
Now, she was steadier. Now, she could let go of control and allow herself the evenings and the weekends to just be.
She wasn’t entirely healed—she never would be, knowing she’d lost Debra—but she was upright, and she was healthy.
She stopped in front of a familiar painting and smiled. The very painting she’d stood at with Debra. A woman half-turned from the viewer, her expression caught somewhere between defiance and longing.
Billie felt the pull immediately.
She looks like she’s keeping a secret.
Debra’s voice echoed through her mind, from another time and another version of herself entirely.
Don’t linger and don’t romanticise. You survived by letting go.
She couldn’t turn back time, and she couldn’t bring herself to think about the what-ifs any longer. So, she turned to move on, only to be stopped in her tracks. That subtle shift in the air was unmistakable.
Billie stilled. She didn’t scan the room; she didn’t need to. Some instinct she hadn’t managed to kill off still knew when Debra Allen was nearby.
When she finally looked up and to her right, Debra was there, standing near the centre of the gallery and angled towards a sculpture.
She was dressed in that simple way Billie loved.
The soft jumper and dark jeans, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders.
It was a little longer than usual, but it suited her. She looked happy and healthy.
She looked…like she wasn’t alone.
Billie’s heart stuttered when Lucille stepped up beside her and draped an arm around her waist. It shouldn’t have hurt, Billie had no right to feel that way, but it did. Just that dull ache and the recognition of a life that had continued without her.
Billie drew in a slow breath. Debra had rightfully moved on, but Billie hadn’t.
She’d moved on from her past and the never-ending punishment of herself, but every night, she lay in bed thinking about Debra.
She wondered if she was well; she wondered if she’d felt happier having Billie out of her life.
This, right here, answered her questions.
Lucille fit beside Debra in a way that made sense, but Billie didn’t feel anger or jealousy.
She felt…an understanding. She hadn’t been well enough then.
Not for Debra, and not even for herself.
The woman who had knelt and had collapsed inward under the weight of old conditioning had not been in a place to build something healthy.
Billie accepted that. Still, her breath faltered when Debra turned, and their eyes met across the room.
Billie noted the surprise as it flashed across Debra’s face. Lucille had also noticed, following Debra’s gaze until she landed directly on Billie.
Billie straightened instinctively, an old reflex sliding into place but not meaning what it usually would.
She liked to carry herself in a particular way in public, and that would never change.
She smoothed her expression and crossed the space between them.
She would not flee, and she certainly wouldn’t intrude, but she could say hello.
She stopped a safe distance away. “Hi, Debra.”
“H-hi.”
Lucille looked between them, perceptive enough to sense history without being invited into it.
“Oh, sorry.” Debra cleared her throat. “You remember Lucille?”
Lucille offered a friendly smile. “Hi.”
“I do remember,” Billie replied, returning a smile of her own. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Lucille studied Billie briefly, then said, “We were just talking about how peaceful it is here.”
“Yeah. It has a way of slowing things down.”
Debra gazed at her, and Billie felt the familiar current spark between them. Not diminished. Just…tempered, maybe. “You look well.”
Billie held her gaze. “I am. A lot more than I was.”
Lucille sensed the intimacy of the moment and stepped back, giving space without leaving the room entirely. Billie noticed, and she appreciated it.
“How have you been?” Billie wanted to take Debra by the hand and guide her to a bench out of sight, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have that right. “You look great, Debra.”
“I’ve been…yes, I’ve been okay.” Debra smiled weakly as she looked down at the space between them. “I expected to hear from you at some point, but as the weeks passed, you know…”
“I thought distance was kinder to you. You didn’t need to see the mess I’d got myself into, and I didn’t want you to be a part of that.
” Billie could only speak from the heart.
“You said it would be a good idea for us to have some space, and I’m sorry to say that I don’t really know what an appropriate amount is. ”
Debra nodded slowly. “I didn’t want you to vanish.”
“Perhaps not, but as time went on, I realised that I had work to do on myself. Until I was happy with this,” Billie said as she gestured towards herself. “Then I was of no use to anyone.”
“Well, you look remarkably better than you did the last time I saw you.”
“I really am.” Billie smiled, and Debra’s eyes brightened far beyond anything Billie had encountered from her before. “And I have you to thank for that.”
“Me?” Debra frowned.
“You came into my life and turned it upside down. At first, I believed it was for all the wrong reasons, but I’ve realised recently that I’m finally dealing with my past and I don’t let it rule my life anymore.
That…I’m ready to find some kind of happiness that works for me.
I don’t know what that looks like just yet, but yes, I’m a better person now because of you. ”
Debra regarded her with a small smile, briefly glancing over her shoulder to where Lucille was slowly working her way around the room.
“Anyway, you should get back to your afternoon with Lucille.” Billie shoved her hands in her pockets and stepped back. “It was really good seeing you, Debra. I hope it works out between you two. She…looks at you the way you deserve to be looked at.”
As Billie turned and walked away, she felt that ache settle again, but the difference was that it no longer owned her. She understood now that being connected to someone didn't necessarily mean you belonged to them…and that love didn't always happen at the right moment.
She hadn’t lost Debra. She’d simply met her at the wrong time.
And now, since everything had fallen apart, Billie allowed herself to believe that knowing the difference was its own kind of healing.
Debra sat at a window table in a wine bar close to the museum, thankful for a moment to breathe.
Lucille was at the bar ordering for them, but Debra’s mind was back on her run-in with Billie.
She hadn’t known what to expect when they came face to face again, but she’d been pleasantly surprised by the brightness in Billie’s eyes and her smile.
Still, now wasn’t the right moment for her to reflect. She was on her third date with Lucille, and she wouldn’t disrespect her by sitting here thinking about another woman.
“White wine,” Lucille said as she lowered the glass in front of Debra. “I believe we’ve earned it after spending the entire day on our feet.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
As Lucille took a seat facing Debra, something in the atmosphere changed. She wasn’t sure, but it felt as though Lucille was trying to get a read on her.
“Is…everything okay?”
“You were quiet back there,” Lucille said as she brought her glass closer. “After we ran into her.”
“I was.” Debra didn’t pretend not to know who she meant. Lucille deserved the truth. “I’m sorry if that felt odd.”
“I wouldn’t say it felt odd, but it did feel…unfinished.”
That word landed with uncomfortable accuracy. Debra took a sip of wine, buying herself a moment. There was no point dancing around it. Lucille deserved more than that. “There isn’t a relationship,” she said. “Not anymore. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure there ever was one.”
Lucille tilted her head. “But there could have been.”
Debra exhaled slowly as she nodded. “Yes.”
“Is she the reason why you went so slow with me?”
Debra met her gaze, a slight crease between her brows. “I didn’t realise I was going slow.”
“You were, and that’s okay. I just don’t need to be anyone’s halfway point.”
Debra respected that, she really did. “I like you, Lucille. You’re kind, and you’re easy to be with…and I think under different circumstances, I’d have leaned into that.”
Lucille smiled faintly. “But you didn’t.”
“No. Because some part of me was still…elsewhere. Even when I didn’t want it to be.”