Chapter Text
Chapter one
Carla could still hear the echo of their voices in her head as she locked the door to the factory that evening. The argument from that morning clung to her like perfume that refused to fade. Lisa’s face, tight with frustration, had been the last thing she’d seen before leaving for work. They had stood in the kitchen-still warm from the early kettle, Betsy’s pizza box abandoned on the counter from the night before and Carla had said words she hadn’t meant to come out as harsh as they did.
“She’s seventeen, Lisa. She can’t just go out drinking and come home stumbling at two in the morning without so much as a word from you. You’re her mother, you need to do something about it.”
Lisa’s eyes had darkened, her voice clipped. “And what do you suggest, Carla? That I ground her? Chain her to the banister? She’s seventeen, not seven. She made a mistake. I’m not about to turn this house into a prison because you don’t like how I handle things.”
And then it had spiralled, words layered on words until Carla had slammed her handbag onto her shoulder and left, the tension in her chest so sharp she’d felt it all through her day. She’d sent a couple of texts; tentative at first, then softer, apologising for her tone, but Lisa hadn’t replied. That silence had been worse than the argument itself.
Now, walking into their home, the house felt cool and still, heavy with everything unsaid. Carla pulled off her her knee high boots and stood for a moment in the hallway. She wasn’t going to let another night end in silence. She loved Lisa too much for that.
The kitchen hadn’t always been her usual sanctuary, but this new house made it feel enticing. Its marble-topped island gleamed under the soft evening lights, and Carla placed the blue carrier bag of fresh vegetables onto it she’d picked up from Freshco’s on the way home, determined that they’d put this morning behind them. If Lisa wouldn’t answer her messages, maybe she’d answer her heart through food, through effort, through the quiet way Carla knew how to say sorry when words faltered.
She poured herself a glass of red wine and rolled up her sleeves, chopping onions, garlic, and tomatoes. The rhythm of cooking soothed her, a language all its own. She seared chicken, added rosemary, let the scent fill the air, she hadn’t always been domesticated, but being with Lisa, and seeing Betsy as her own daughter had surfaced a side to her she dared to dream of most of her life- being part of a real family. Candles were placed along the island, a small vase of lilies set in the centre. She even laid out their best plates, the ones reserved for birthdays and Christmas that they’d bought when they moved in, because tonight mattered.
The front door opened just as she was finishing up. Carla froze, knife halfway through the garlic bread she’d taken out of the oven. Carla paused and listened to the familiar click of Lisa’s boots on the laminate flooring in the hallway.
Lisa appeared in the doorway, her checked duffle coat slung over one arm, her hair pulled back but messier than usual, shadows under her eyes. She stopped when she saw the table.
Carla forced a smile, heart drumming. “You’re home.”
Lisa looked at the candles, then at Carla. Her expression softened, but her voice was wary. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I did,” Carla said quietly, setting the knife down. “I wanted to.”
For a long moment they simply looked at each other, the weight of the day pressing down. Then Lisa exhaled, almost a sigh, and dropped her coat over the back of the sofa. Carla stared at the coat and queried its resting place with her eyes. Lisa usually like everything in order, no clutter or unnecessary items hanging around being out of place.
The meal began with silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery. Carla had expected as much-Lisa always needed time, needed space to let anger trickle out before she could speak. Carla’s own chest ached with unspoken apologies, but she let the rhythm of the meal do the first part of the work.
Halfway through, Lisa pushed a piece of chicken around her plate and finally said, “I know you’re only worried about her.”
Carla looked up, relief threading through her. “I am. She’s a good girl, Lisa, but she’s still so young. And I don’t want to see her hurt because nobody told her no.”
Lisa nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “I get that. But… sometimes being too strict pushes her further away. Betsy doesn’t need DS Swain at home. She needs to know I trust her to make her own decisions, even if they’re stupid ones.”
Carla reached across the marble, resting her hand lightly over Lisa’s. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you weren’t a good mum. You're an amazing mum, you are Lis. I just… I worry. I can’t switch it off, I love her too, but sometimes I feel like it’s not my place , ya know.”
Lisa’s hand turned, fingers intertwining with hers. The simple gesture, warm and grounding, eased something sharp inside Carla.
“Carla, you’re her family too. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t offer her advice and guidance, but if we go in all guns blazing, she will just push harder against us.”
Carla’s heart swelled at those two words –“we” and “us”. Carla sat and scanned Lisa’s face not breaking eye contact. Lisa’s face softened, there was an unspoken understanding between them.
Lisa released her hand and broke the silence- “I ignored your texts,” she admitted, her voice low. “Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because I didn’t know how without snapping again. I hate fighting with you, Car. I'm sorry for ignoring you , that wasn't the right way to go about things, you deserve more than that. I know you love me and it's came from a caring place, not a critical one.
Carla’s throat tightened. “Yes, I do.” Carla paused, her eyes searched Lisa's, her heart swelled , "I love you both, ok."
Lisa reached her hand out , Carla didn't hesitate, she reached out with both hands, entwining their fingers, she could feel the outline of Lisa's engagement ring. They sat like that for a while, hands joined, words spilling slowly until the tension thinned, replaced by something gentler.
By the time dessert—strawberries drizzled with cream was finished, they were sat on the sofa, laughing again, sharing stories of their day. Lisa told her about a suspect who tried to excuse himself from questioning by claiming his parrot needed feeding, and Carla laughed until her cheeks ached. She continued the laughter by telling Lisa about Sally trying to micro manage her staff with her usual line of “less bitchin’ more stitchin.”
The atmosphere grew warmer, more alive, the earlier heaviness dissolving into something intimate.
Later, when the dish washer was loaded and the breakfast pots from that morning neatly put away, and the candles had burned low, Lisa pursed her lips and blew the almost none existent flames out from the candles thay Carla had attentively laid out on the island. Carla took Lisa’s hand and led her upstairs.
Their bedroom was dimly lit, the street lights seeping through the curtains, the sound of the occasional car passing and the calm breathing were all that could be heard. Lisa sat on the edge of the bed to remove her boots, and Carla watched her with a tenderness that still surprised her even after almost 2 years together. She sat beside her, brushing a stray blonde wisp of hair from Lisa’s face, and whispered, “I missed you today.”
Lisa’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Even when you were furious with me?”
“Especially then.”
Their kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like testing the water after a storm. Carla cupped Lisa’s jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin, the familiar shape of her. Lisa leaned into her touch, deepening the kiss, and soon it was less about words and more about making up in the way only they could. Lisa moaned into Carla's mouth. She broke the kiss resting her forehead on Carla's. Lisa whispered "make love to me darling, I need to feel close to you. I need you."
They moved together with unhurried care, each touch deliberate. Carla slid her hand along Lisa’s arm, down her side, memorising the lines she already knew so well. The tension of the day melted in their closeness, replaced by something softer, more forgiving. Lisa’s fingers tangled in Carla’s hair, her breath warm against her neck, and every brush of lips, every whispered word carried the weight of reconciliation.
They weren’t frantic; they didn’t need to be. It was about connection, about showing each other that beneath arguments and silences, the foundation of them was still strong. Carla kissed Lisa’s shoulder, her collarbone, lingering in places that made Lisa sigh, that made her body arch gently in response. Lisa pulled Carla closer, wrapping her arms around her as though to make sure she never let go.
Time blurred. Their movements were tender, slow, wrapped in quiet murmurs and soft laughter. They loved each other with the patience of two people who had been through storms and still chose to come back to shore together.
Carla collapsed into a heap beside Lisa breathless. There was an energy swirling around the room – an unspoken connection, they lay tangled in the sheets, Lisa’s head resting against Carla’s chest, their breathing steadying in sync.
“Promise me,” Carla whispered into her hair, “that we won’t let another day like today happen again.”
Lisa lifted her head, her eyes heavy but certain. “We’ll argue again. That’s life. But we’ll always come back to this. To us.”
Carla kissed her forehead, feeling the truth of it settle deep inside her. “To us.”
And with Lisa’s arms around her, the night finally felt whole again. The calm before the storm.....