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“When did you know?” Katya asks on a cool Saturday morning as they sit on the balcony, sipping their tea and watching the sun rise over the mountains. “That you loved me. When were you sure?”
Trixie shrugs and drains his tea mug and replaces it in its saucer before lacing his fingers together and looking over at Katya, orange shadows cast over his features, illuminating the delicate creases beside his eyes.
“I think I’ve always known.”
Katya snorts and shakes his head and wags a finger in his direction. “Lies. You fought us so hard for so many years—”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t in love with you, Kat,” he says quietly, and gently, he takes the other man’s fingers in his hand and twists their digits around each other and kisses the back of his hand. “I’ve always been in love with you.”
“I’ve always been in love with you, too,” Katya says softly, watching Trixie inspect the freckles on his wrist. “From the minute I saw you in the workroom, I knew you were different. I knew we were soulmates, but I wasn’t sure what kind for a long time.”
Trixie chuckles. “You knew what kind you wanted us to be.”
“Absolutely. But, baby, what you want isn’t always what you get.” He sighs. “I was too old for you and you were far too driven and romantic for me, so I settled on us being best friends when I figured I would never have you like I wanted...” His voice trails off.
“And then?” Trixie prompts.
“And then I relapsed and you were there through everything and that’s when I just knew.”
He nods. “I know. Me too.”
“So I have always loved you.”
“As I have always loved you.”
“Well, then.”
So Trixie kisses him, softly and sweetly, as the sun rises over Los Angeles.