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Francesca woke up on her and Michaela’s first wedding anniversary alone.
She frowned in confusion at the empty half of her bed. She’d known they wouldn’t be able to spend much of the day together, both too busy with work like they'd been most days for the last few months, but she’d thought they’d at least wake up together. She had plans, had set her alarm a half hour earlier than usual so she could take her time implementing those very detailed plans, and instead she was alone and Michaela’s pillow was cold.
There were no signs of life in the rest of the flat, but Francesca checked in their bathroom and the living room anyway before walking into the kitchen. Her wife wasn’t there, but a pastry box with a note on top was.
Happy Anniversary, love, she read. Sorry I had to leave early, there was an emergency at work and I have Zoom meeting with Tokyo at seven. I picked these up for you before I left. Love you and can’t wait for tonight.
She opened the box to find cinnamon scones and Chelsea buns, her favorites from the bakery on the corner. It made her smile, even if she wished her wife had been there to give these to her in person. She pulled out her phone and texted, Thanks for breakfast, love you. Happy Anniversary!
When she opened the fridge to get orange juice to go with her pastries, she noticed a squished little sandwich sitting next to the carton - Michaela's lunch. She must have forgotten in her hurry this morning. It made something twist in Francesca's stomach, because she never liked how little attention Michaela paid to making a healthy lunch and filling lunch for herself. And now because of work problems, and maybe also because she wanted to surprise Francesca and had gotten distracted, she wouldn't even heave her soggy cheese and pickle to eat. Looking at the sad thing, it occurred to Francesca that if she was awake a half hour early, she might as well put it to good use. Michaela's building was only a few stops off her usual route on the tube, after all, and with her wife occupied in a meeting she could probably slip in and leave a surprise of her own.
It was almost two hours later when she was helping her third customer of the day before Michaela finally texted back. Anytime, sweetheart. See you tonight!
*
Michaela breathed out a happy little sigh of relief as she sat made her way into the break room. She had been in back-to-back meetings all morning and was getting to lunch over an hour later than usual. She rarely went to the building’s cafeteria or sandwich shop, instead keeping her food in the break room fridge so she could spend as much of her lunch hour as possible alone in her office. She liked her coworkers well enough and went for drinks and to work dos fairly often, but that forty-five minutes of quiet in the middle of the work day was her mental health oasis.
She opened the fridge and stopped short. Her usual sandwich or salad wasn’t in there, but there was a paper bag with Michaela written on the front. She pulled it out and opened it up, and there in the middle of the her family's company's break room, smiled a big soppy, adoring smile.
There was a much nicer lunch than she usually made for herself, with ham and Gruyère on a baguette, sun dried tomatoes, a pear, and a couple chocolate digestives. Everything was placed in separate containers with two napkins on top folded crisply down the middle. There was also a bottle of paracetamol - For your headache, was written on the attached post-it note, and Michaela wasn’t sure what it said about her job that Francesca knew she would have a headache by lunch - and her wrist brace that she wore when her tendonitis flared up.
She stared down at it all with warmth flowing through her. Her wife loved her in such practical ways, in ways she knew other people saw as too clinical, cold even. But Francesca had lost her father and watched her mother’s devastating grief at such a young age, so now she showed her love through taking care of those that mattered most to her. She wanted Michaela around as long as possible, had told her as much multiple times, and that was the most romantic thing that Michaela could imagine.
She took her lunch to her office and pulled up her internet browser on her phone. She had an idea of how to repay the gesture.
*
It was a quiet day at Francesca’s music shop, the usual midweek lull. She’d undoubtedly get some kids looking for sheet music or picking up reeds or replacement drumsticks after school let out, but for now she was alone, surrounded by silent instruments and old vinyls. Usually she'd be relieved to have a quiet day, but today she was feeling particularly lonely. She'd even considered texting Gregory or Hyacinth; they were in university now, maybe one of them could drop by between classes for a chat. The only thing that held her back knowing how hard it was to get them to leave, and she didn't want to be late tonight. Michaela had gotten them tickets to a concert featuring a pianist Francesca had been wanting hear play live for ages, and she couldn't afford to have her siblings keep her waylaid at the shop because they were bored and feeling chatty.
She jumped when the bell on her door rung and someone stepped inside. “Bonjour!”
“Hello, Genevive,” Francesca said, perking up. Genevieve owned the boutique down the street and had become a friend in the four years since she opened her music shop. “Anything I can help you with? Do you need more suggestions for your boutique’s playlist?”
“Not yet, although I may take you up on that when back to school shopping starts. I am actually here by request of your wife.”
Even a year later, there was always something about other people calling Michaela her wife that lit Francesca up inside. “Michaela sent you? Why?”
“Evidently she thought you needed this,” Genevieve handed over a cardboard cup. Francesca opened it up and inhaled - Earl Grey, her favorite. “And she also had me pick this up for you. She said it was no jigsaw puzzle, but she hoped you would enjoy it. She knows how bored you get on slow days.”
Genevieve slid a book of crossword puzzles across the table. A quick look at the contents page showed it had an entire section dedicated to music specific crosswords. It was probably from the game shop a couple blocks over; Michaela must have looked on their website for something that Francesca would enjoy.
Reluctantly, she closed the book and smiled up at her friend. “Thank you so much for bringing them to me. Are you sure there isn't anything I can help you with?"
“It was no trouble, and Michaela already made it more than worth my while.”
“Still, you had to leave your boutique for quite a while. I should at least get you a curry or something so you don’t have to skip lunch.’
“Thank you, but I already ate.”
“Then we could do a few of the crosswords together? You know pop culture better than I do.”
Genevieve pursed her lips. “You're missing Michaela, aren’t you?”
Francesca wilted. “Am I that obvious?”
“You're usually happy to have the alone time. A shame your first anniversary is on a workday." She tilted her head. "Actually I don't think I ever asked you why two got married on a Tuesday. It all happened so fast."
“Well, we spent so long dancing around each other before we got together that when we got engaged, we didn’t want to waste any more time and hoped to get married as soon as possible. But my family is so large and hers is so busy that the only day they were all available during the entire summer happened to be a random Tuesday only a few weeks after we got engaged. Planning it was a nightmare. But we didn’t want to wait. We just wanted to be married already.”
“That is so romantic,” Genevieve sighed. “And surprisingly spontaneous for you, I must say.”
“Hey, I can be spontaneous. In fact, I did something spontaneous a week ago that is making me a bit anxious right now,” she admitted. “I ordered something - or several somethings, really - for Michaela that should be arriving at her office any minute.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Help me do a crossword and I will."
*
As soon as the last of her colleagues left, Michaela put her head down on the conference room table and groaned. She had to be back here in twenty minutes anyway, she might as well not waste time running back to her office and get what rest she could in here.
The sound of something being put down next to her ear roused her. She lifted her head and saw a giant steaming mug of coffee on the table and John in the seat next to her, forehead creased.
She picked up the mug and swallowed a third of the coffee in it, barely noticing how hot it was. “You have no idea how much I needed that. You are the best cousin in the entire world.”
“I don't know about that. Francesca was the one who told me to get it for you, said you'd be hitting your afternoon slump by now. I’m glad she did but I think perhaps you should just go home early. You look a mess.”
“Thanks very much,” she said, rolling her eyes before drinking another huge swallow of coffee.
“You know what I mean. It’s your anniversary and you’ve been pushing yourself too much lately.” His voice lowered. “I’m alright, Michaela. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
She made a face. Only a few months ago, a blood vessel had burst in John’s head while he’d stayed late to clean up after a game night at Michaela and Francesca’s flat. They’d gotten him to the hospital quickly and the surgery had gone well, no lasting ill effects, but it had rattled her. She’d had John stay with them during his recovery, and when he struggled to concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time for the first six weeks or so after he returned to work, she had picked up the slack for him. She’d never been very invested in their family’s company, had been happy to let John take over when her father had retired as CEO, so she’d only intended to take some responsibilities off his plate until he was better. But now it was five months later and she was still doing them, and she didn’t quite know how to stop. To accept that John was ready to take over and that should step back and let him.
“Did you get us a gift?” she asked, pushing the subject away. “Is it nice? Or is it more board games, because I know you and Francesca love them, but we're running out of places to put them.”
He laughed, letting her dodge his suggestion. “I did get you something - or, rather, Francesca and I got you something. It’s in your office, if you’d like to see it. The meeting got pushed back so you can hide in there until four, if you’d like.”
“You are my favorite cousin,” she said before downing the last of the coffee and jumping out of her chair.
“I’m you’re only cousin!” he called after her, but she was already halfway down the hall.
She opened her office door and her jaw dropped.
There were flowers on every available flat surface of her office, turning it into a small indoor garden, roses and lilies and daisies and lavender and sunflowers and tulips and several flowers she couldn’t name. The window was left open, which helped make the variety of floral scents in the room slightly less overwhelming, but they were still quite powerful. Michaela didn't mind - she loved flowers, loved their smell and the look of them, wanted them around all the time. Strong loral scents gave Francesca a headache, however, and so they never had more than a few at a time in their flat. Apparently she had decided to make up for years of restriction all in one go. They'd have to stay here, of course, but Michaela could enjoy a week or two of flower nirvana. There was even a little watering can shaped like a sheep on her desk.
This was not practical, certainly not cold or clinical. This was ... magical.
And she wished so badly that she could kiss her wife right now that she could cry.
*
By five o’clock, her usual closing time, the shop was filled to the brim with customers. Apparently one of the local primary schools had decided to have the students pick instruments before summer break so they could spend the time off practicing the basics, and half the class had gone straight to her shop to give them a try. The sound was cacophonous and Francesca’s head was throbbing and she wanted to die a little. She ran from child to child, trying to give them the best advice she could, wishing desperately that her sister-in-law and only employee Posy was there. Posy didn’t know music or instruments half as well as Francesca did, but Posy was better with people, especially loud people. Chaos like today suited her. But in a frankly cruel twist of fate, she had asked for today off, for wedding planning of all things.
Sorry, running late, Francesca texted Michaela frantically between helping a girl with braids and butterfly clips settle on a flute over a clarinet before running to deal with the little boy banging the drums loudly with his umbrella and his father who was on his phone five feet away from him, paying no attention to him whatsoever.
*
Michaela got Francesca’s message, but was unable to send one in return. She was on the tube and they were underground, so the text got stuck halfway sent. She sighed and put her phone back, deciding she’d try sending it at the next stop.
The train started to slow and Michaela started to pull her phone back out - until she noticed that the windows were still dark.
Everyone around her groaned and cursed as the announcement came - the train had been held at a red signal, something wrong with the track ahead.
She sighed and gently thumped her head against the window. All she wanted was to spend her anniversary with her wife. Why was that so much to ask?
Fifteen minutes later, a different text telling Francesca about the train situation went through before her mobile's signal went out again. She got over halfway through the new Olivia Rodrigo album, thankfully already purchased so she didn’t need to stream it, before the train finally began to move.
Francesca was in the shower when Michaela got home. She decided to skip one for herself; they’d never make it to the concert if she didn’t get dressed and touch up her makeup now. Minutes before they had to leave, Fran emerged from the bathroom in a plum suit with her hair in loose waves, and Michaela came out of the bedroom in a long black velvet dress and heels tall enough that she was almost eye level with her wife.
“You look stunning,” Francesca breathed, looking Michaela up and down slowly.
“So do you,” Michaela said, stepping closer. “I've been looking forward to this all day.”
“Me, too, so much. Shall we go?”
“We shall.”
Neither of them moved. The seconds ticked by, the smiles on their faces turned strained, and yet they stayed still, not moving so much as centimeter closer to their front door.
Francesca broke first. “I think if I walk any further in these shoes, my feel will fall off. I was running around the shop all afternoon -“
“I know,” Michaela assured her, “I know, love, and honestly? I sat in a chair with flimsy back all day in one of my most uncomfortable suits, and the seats at the concert hall are so stiff -“
“Exactly, they’re like rocks! I cannot sit in one of those bloody things for two plus hours, not after the day I've had.”
“Nor can I!” Her expression turned troubled. “But you’ve wanted to hear that pianist for so long, I don’t want you to miss her.”
Francesca was shaking her head before she even finished the sentence. “I know, and it was so sweet of you to get us the tickets, but we can try again the next time she comes around. Tonight, I want to change into my pajamas and have a quiet dinner in. If that’s alright with you.”
Michaela laughed and reached out to pull Francesca close. “Yes, that is very alright with me. In fact, this is the perfect time to give you my last present.”
*
A quick change later and they were lying on the sofa in their pajamas with big woolly socks on their feet, Michaela’s back pressed to Francesca’s front, her head tucked just to the side of Francesca’s chin. On the coffee table was a fondue pot and a platter full of things to dip in it, which they could do with their long skewers from the sofa.
“This is the perfect gift,” Francesca said as she dipped a piece of bread into the fondue pot and pulled it out covered in cheese.
“I think the flowers were the perfect gift, but this is a very solid second place. Especially when we try the chocolate for dessert.”
Michaela felt lips press against the side of her neck. “I missed you today.”
“I missed you, too.” She turned her head to kiss Francesca’s collarbone.
“Next year, do you think we might … that maybe we could … I know that you want to support John, but I hoped we could … perhaps we could not be separate on our next anniversary.”
Michaela twisted her torso so she could look up at Francesca. “You want us to take the day off?”
“Maybe more? Maybe more like a holiday weekend? I’m sure I can find one of my siblings to handle the shop for a bit if Posy can’t.”
“Oh.” Michaela had never been one to pass up a holiday, especially one with Francesca, but she hadn’t left London since John’s surgery. There was some irrational part of her that worried if she went too long without laying eyes on him that something awful would happen again; the fact that something even more awful might have happened if she and Francesca hadn’t been there the first time probably added to that.
But John was fine and she had to start accepting that at some point. And she didn't want to spend another anniversary barely seeing her wife, not if she could help it.
“I think I could make that work,” she said, her lips slowly curling up into a smile. “Next year, just the two of us. Maybe we could to Scotland, my aunt might let us use the family home there. Or Paris, or Rome. Wherever you’d like.”
“We can figure that out later,” Francesca said, dropping her forehead onto Michaela’s. “I just want to be where you are.”
“Me, too. And until then, how about you ask one of your siblings to take the shop on Saturday and we spend the whole weekend in, just you and me?”
“Sounds perfect. Happy Anniversary, my love.
“Happy Anniversary. Best year of my life.”