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“Still,” Angie says, “I think you should be careful.”
Peggy’s glad she has her back turned so Angie won’t see her smile. “I told you I was a secret agent over a year ago, and now you want me to be careful about—”
“About us,” Angie finishes, and from her voice, it’s clear that she’s smiling. “Yes, I do. And I have to worry about something, you know. It’d get boring otherwise.” She hesitates, then chuckles, her tone flat. “I guess I shouldn’t talk like that. You never know what’ll come along in your line of work.”
“Don’t,” Peggy says. “Not on Christmas.”
Angie turns. “Sorry.”
The silence that follows is just charged enough that Peggy feels compelled to say, “No, you’re not.”
“All right, I’m not,” Angie says immediately, with some heat.
Peggy sighs. “Just tell me and have done with it.”
“Well,” Angie says, gazing at the tinsel around the banister, apparently forcing herself to be calm, “you don’t seem to care.”
“About what?”
“About me.” Angie meets her eyes with a scorching expression.
Peggy opens her mouth, but it takes a moment for anything to come out. “I—I do care, of course I—how can you—”
Angie gives a funny shake of her head. “I know you do, but you don’t act like it.” She purses her lips when Peggy looks nonplussed. “You want to show the whole world who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that—not really. It’s what I love about you.” Her voice softens, but her gaze remains steel. “I only, well, I wish you’d see that the rest of the world doesn’t love it.”
“I see it.” Peggy nods. “I see it every day, Angie. That’s why I can’t hide this—hide us—as much as you’d like.”
“That doesn’t make sense. If you’re so aware of the—the prejudice, the way things are, then why do you risk it?”
Peggy hesitates, because she can see the color rising in Angie’s cheeks and gets the feeling that if she doesn’t say the right thing, Angie will walk out of the room. They’re already separated by a coffee table and a stack of presents. She doesn’t want a wall between them too.
“For years,” she says at last, “I’ve had to hide my life. Every bit of it. I’ve never been able to walk down the street as myself because it’s a matter of national security.” She brushes a hand over her hair, self-conscious. It’s not in her nature to reveal what she’s about to say, but if there was ever a necessary moment... “You’re the first thing to happen to me that doesn’t put the whole country at risk. It’s so real, what we have—I couldn’t possibly act as if it wasn’t there. I love you too much.”
She sees the moment when Angie relents, the smile that breaks across her face. “Oh, English,” she says, her eyes glowing bright as the Christmas lights, “get over here and kiss me.”