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By the second year of university, there were several facts accepted without question by almost everyone within their rather extensive friendship group.
Bianca Barclay could win an argument with a brick wall.
Yoko Tanaka would sleep until noon if nobody physically prevented her.
Divina had somehow become the person everyone went to when they needed sensible advice, despite repeatedly insisting she had never applied for the position.
Pugsley Addams should never be allowed unsupervised access to either the chemistry department or the electrical engineering building.
Agnes DeMille was significantly more terrifying than people expected from someone who still occasionally wore butterfly clips.
Eugene Ottinger remained incapable of knowingly allowing anyone to leave a room hungry.
And Wednesday Addams was hopelessly, catastrophically, almost embarrassingly in love with Enid Sinclair.
Everyone knew.
Bianca knew.
Yoko knew.
Divina knew.
Ajax knew.
Kent knew.
Eugene knew.
Pugsley had known for so long that he no longer found it particularly interesting.
Agnes had apparently worked it out within seventeen minutes of first seeing Wednesday and Enid together after starting university and had been deeply unimpressed that everyone else considered it noteworthy.
Even Xavier, who lived in another city and only visited every few months, knew.
There were precisely two people who remained completely oblivious.
Enid Sinclair.
And Wednesday Addams.
Which was how Enid came home on a rainy Thursday afternoon, dropped her university bag beside the shoe rack, wandered into the living room looking for something sugary and stopped dead.
Bianca, Yoko and Divina were sitting on the sofa.
Waiting for her.
Enid stared.
They stared back.
There was a chair positioned opposite them.
Enid slowly pointed at it.
“No.”
Bianca folded her arms.
“You don't even know what we're doing.”
“Three of my friends are sitting in a suspiciously straight line with one chair facing them. This is either an intervention or you're about to tell me I've joined a cult.”
Yoko glanced at Bianca.
“Could be both.”
“Yoko.”
“What? University is expensive. Cults probably have scholarships.”
Enid took one cautious step backwards.
Bianca pointed at the chair.
“Sit.”
“Oh my God, it is an intervention.”
“Sit down, Sinclair.”
Enid sat.
Mostly because Bianca had used her captain voice and several years of friendship had taught Enid that resisting Bianca's captain voice merely prolonged the inevitable.
She tucked one leg beneath herself and looked between them.
“Okay. Before we begin, I'd like it officially noted that whatever Wednesday told you, I did not shrink her black jumper.”
Divina blinked.
“What?”
“It came out of the dryer like that.”
Yoko raised an eyebrow.
“Wednesday doesn't put her clothes in the dryer.”
“Exactly. Which is why this entire situation remains mysterious.”
“Enid.”
Bianca leaned forward.
“This isn't about laundry.”
“Oh.”
Enid relaxed.
“Great.”
Bianca stared at her.
“That reaction concerns me.”
“What's this about then?”
The three women exchanged glances.
That immediately made Enid nervous again.
Divina smiled gently.
“We want to talk about Wednesday.”
Every muscle in Enid's body tightened.
“What about Wednesday?”
Yoko sighed.
“This is going to hurt.”
“What happened?”
Enid was already reaching for her phone.
“Is she okay? She had that seminar with Professor Callow today and she hates him because he breathes too loudly when he's reading. Did she stab him?”
“No.”
“Did she threaten to stab him?”
“Probably,” Bianca said. “But that's not relevant.”
“Did someone upset her?”
“Enid.”
“Because if someone's upset her—”
“Wednesday is fine.”
Enid stopped.
Bianca waited until her phone lowered.
Then she said, very carefully,
“Wednesday is in love with you.”
Silence.
Enid stared at her.
Yoko stared at Enid.
Divina watched Enid with the expression of someone waiting for a delayed explosion.
Three seconds passed.
Five.
Eight.
Then Enid laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the alternative was apparently having an aneurysm.
“Okay.”
Bianca's expression didn't change.
“I'm serious.”
“Yeah.”
Enid laughed again.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Bianca.”
“Enid.”
“Wednesday isn't in love with me.”
Yoko covered her face.
From somewhere behind her hands came a muffled, “We're going to die here.”
Enid looked between them.
“Guys, seriously. I don't know what you've seen or what you've misunderstood, but Wednesday doesn't—”
“Misunderstood?”
Bianca sat back.
“Oh, this should be good.”
“She doesn't do relationships.”
“Wednesday has never said that.”
“She doesn't like romance.”
“She doesn't like other people's romance,” Divina corrected.
“She once threatened to bury two people under the library because they were kissing in the reference section.”
“They were blocking the criminology shelves,” Yoko said. “She had a point.”
Enid threw her hands up.
“This is Wednesday we're talking about!”
“Yes,” Bianca said. “That's why this is so obvious.”
Enid stared at her.
Bianca stared back.
“What does that even mean?”
Bianca inhaled slowly.
Then turned to Divina.
“You start.”
Divina nodded.
“Wednesday hates being touched.”
Enid's eyebrows drew together.
“I know.”
“She lets you hug her.”
“Sometimes.”
“Frequently.”
“Wednesday has boundaries.”
“She has boundaries with everyone else. With you she has vague suggestions.”
Enid opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Yoko lowered her hands.
“She lets you put your feet over her lap when we're watching films.”
“Because the sofa is small.”
“We have two sofas.”
“She hates the other sofa.”
“Wednesday bought the other sofa.”
Enid hesitated.
Bianca held up a finger.
“She doesn't share food.”
“She shares with me.”
“Exactly.”
“Because I steal it.”
“She moves the plate closer to you.”
“She knows I'll steal it anyway.”
“She orders extra fries.”
Enid frowned.
Bianca held up another finger.
“She despises texting.”
“True.”
“She replies to you in under two minutes.”
“Not always.”
“Enid, last month you sent her a photograph of a cloud shaped like a bunny during her forensic linguistics lecture.”
“It looked exactly like a bunny.”
“She replied in eleven seconds.”
Enid blinked.
Yoko leaned forward.
“She went to that musical with you.”
Enid immediately brightened.
“Hadestown! It was amazing.”
“Wednesday hates musicals.”
“She liked that one.”
“She spent three hours afterwards explaining why Orpheus deserved to be eaten by wolves.”
“She was emotionally invested.”
“She was emotionally invested because you were.”
Enid shifted in her seat.
“That doesn't mean she's in love with me.”
Divina exchanged a glance with Bianca.
“Your eighteenth birthday.”
Enid's face softened automatically.
“What about it?”
“Wednesday travelled four hours because you mentioned, once, three months earlier, that you'd never had a proper birthday picnic.”
“She wanted to see everyone.”
“Everyone wasn't there,” Yoko said.
Enid stopped.
Yoko lifted an eyebrow.
“It was you, Wednesday and Eugene.”
“He brought the cake.”
“He was invited by Wednesday because she knew you'd want cake.”
Enid swallowed.
Bianca continued.
“She learned how to make those ridiculous cinnamon pancakes you like.”
“She likes cooking.”
“She thinks pancakes are structurally inferior food.”
“She likes mine.”
“She learned BSL because you said you wanted to keep practising.”
“That wasn't just for me.”
“Name one other person in this house she regularly signs with.”
Enid opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Bianca's eyes sharpened.
“She sits through your fashion documentaries.”
“She likes analysing construction.”
“She went to a four-hour exhibition on Vivienne Westwood with you.”
“It was culturally significant.”
“She bought the catalogue.”
Enid brightened triumphantly.
“See?”
“It was for you.”
Her smile disappeared.
Bianca continued before she could recover.
“She knows your coffee order. Your class schedule. Your deadlines. Which lecturer makes you anxious. Which migraine tablets you use. Which blanket you prefer when you're sick. She keeps strawberry ice cream in the freezer despite describing it as ‘an offence against dairy products.’”
Yoko lifted one finger.
“She once threatened Kent because he ate the last tub.”
“He knew it was mine!”
“That,” Yoko said, “was Wednesday's argument.”
Enid's cheeks were turning pink.
She could feel it happening.
She hated that they could see it.
Because the worst part was that Bianca was listing things Enid had spent years carefully not examining.
Things she had folded away and labelled Wednesday being Wednesday because the alternative hurt too much.
Enid had been in love with her since Nevermore.
Not immediately.
She couldn't identify the exact moment it had happened.
There had been no thunderclap.
No sudden cinematic revelation.
Just Wednesday slowly becoming threaded through everything.
The person Enid looked for when she walked into a room.
The first person she wanted to tell when something wonderful happened.
The person she trusted with the parts of herself she usually painted over in brighter colours.
By graduation, Enid had known.
She had also known Wednesday didn't feel the same.
Or she'd convinced herself she knew.
Because accepting that was safer than hoping.
Enid rubbed her palms against her jeans.
“You're seeing what you want to see.”
Bianca's expression softened slightly.
“We really aren't.”
“She loves me, sure.”
Enid smiled weakly.
“In her Wednesday way. We're best friends.”
“Enid—”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
That stopped all three of them.
Enid looked down.
“You don't understand.”
Divina's face changed immediately.
She moved from the sofa and crouched in front of Enid.
“Then tell us.”
Enid swallowed.
Her fingers curled tightly together.
“I can't believe that.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't.”
“That's not a reason.”
“It is when you've spent years trying not to want something.”
Nobody joked this time.
Enid stared down at her hands.
“I've loved her since Nevermore.”
Yoko's mouth fell open.
Bianca closed her eyes.
Divina whispered, “Oh my God.”
Enid looked up defensively.
“What?”
Bianca opened her eyes again.
“You've been in love with Wednesday since Nevermore?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told us?”
“I thought you knew!”
Yoko actually stood up.
“You thought we knew that but you couldn't work out Wednesday is in love with you?”
“That is completely different!”
“How?”
“Because I'm obvious!”
Yoko threw both hands toward the ceiling.
“SO IS SHE!”
“Wednesday isn't obvious!”
“She memorised your menstrual cycle!”
Enid froze.
Divina turned slowly toward Yoko.
Bianca blinked.
Yoko shrugged.
“What? She asked me if we had painkillers because Enid's cramps usually start around the seventeenth.”
Enid's face went scarlet.
“She worries.”
“She keeps a hot-water bottle in her bedroom specifically for you.”
“She gets cold.”
“It has rainbows on it.”
Silence.
Enid stared.
Yoko sat down again.
“Yeah.”
Divina patted Enid's knee.
“Sweetie.”
“Don't sweetie me.”
“She's completely gone for you.”
“But what if you're wrong?”
There it was.
Small.
Terrified.
Bianca's frustration disappeared.
Enid looked between them.
“What if I believe you? What if I start looking at all these things differently and I convince myself you're right and then I say something and she looks at me like I've completely lost my mind?”
Her throat tightened.
“I'd rather have Wednesday as my best friend forever than risk losing her because I wanted more.”
For once, Bianca didn't immediately argue.
She sat quietly for several seconds.
Then sighed.
“Okay.”
Enid blinked.
“Okay?”
“Don't believe us.”
Yoko looked at her.
“What?”
Bianca ignored her.
“Don't believe anything we've just said.”
Enid frowned.
“Then what was the point of this?”
“Watch her.”
“What?”
“Watch Wednesday.”
Bianca leaned forward.
“Not the way you normally do. Stop explaining everything away before you've even let yourself consider what it means. Just pay attention.”
Enid's stomach fluttered.
“Bianca…”
“You don't have to confess anything. You don't have to ask her out. You don't have to risk your friendship.”
Bianca smiled slightly.
“Just watch.”
So Enid watched.
And discovered, to her horror, that Bianca Barclay might actually have a point.
It began the following morning.
Enid shuffled into the kitchen wearing fluffy socks, shorts and one of Wednesday's old black hoodies.
Wednesday was already sitting at the table with coffee and a book.
She looked up.
Her eyes moved over Enid.
Then stopped.
Something happened to her face.
It was tiny.
Barely there.
A fractional softening around her eyes.
The faintest upward movement at one corner of her mouth.
Enid had seen it thousands of times.
She had never really looked at it before.
“Morning.”
Wednesday's gaze remained on her for another second.
“Good morning.”
Enid opened the cupboard.
Her favourite cereal was sitting at the front.
The box had been replaced.
She'd finished it yesterday.
“Did you buy cereal?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Wednesday looked genuinely confused by the question.
“You were out.”
Enid stared at the box.
Behind her, Yoko walked through the kitchen.
She didn't say anything.
She merely looked at Enid.
Enid glared at her.
Yoko smirked and kept walking.
It got worse.
Wednesday waited outside Enid's lecture because it was raining and she had remembered Enid had forgotten her umbrella.
Wednesday moved Enid's laptop charger beside her bag before leaving for class because Enid had complained it was nearly dead.
Wednesday picked mushrooms out of a takeaway without being asked because Enid hated the texture.
Wednesday sat through forty-seven minutes of Enid ranting about a group project and, when Enid finally said, “Sorry, I'm rambling,” replied,
“You haven't finished.”
Enid nearly walked into a wall afterwards.
Then she started noticing Wednesday looking at her.
That was the part Bianca hadn't prepared her for.
Wednesday looked at her constantly.
Not obviously.
Wednesday Addams did almost nothing obviously.
But Enid would laugh at something and glance across the room and Wednesday would already be watching.
Enid would talk animatedly with her hands and Wednesday's eyes would follow them.
Enid would walk into the room and Wednesday's attention would shift.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Once Enid caught her staring while Enid was tying her hair up.
Wednesday immediately looked back at her book.
Unfortunately for Wednesday, the book was upside down.
Enid fled the room.
By Sunday she was losing her mind.
By Tuesday she was almost certain Bianca was right.
By Wednesday she had somehow circled all the way back around into thinking perhaps she was imagining everything.
Then Thursday happened.
They were cooking dinner together.
Wednesday was preparing vegetables with the sort of knife skills that made Enid simultaneously impressed and mildly concerned about anyone foolish enough to break into their house.
Enid was making the sauce.
Everyone else had suspiciously vanished.
Which almost certainly meant Bianca had orchestrated something.
Enid was trying not to think about that.
She was also trying not to watch Wednesday.
She was failing spectacularly.
Wednesday's sleeves were rolled to her elbows.
That should not have been interesting.
It was.
Enid stirred the sauce.
Wednesday sliced a pepper.
Enid looked away.
Wednesday reached past her for the salt.
Her shoulder brushed Enid's.
Enid forgot how spoons worked.
“You've stopped stirring.”
“What?”
“The sauce.”
“Oh.”
Enid started stirring again.
Wednesday's eyebrows drew together.
“You've been behaving strangely all week.”
Enid's heart tried to climb out through her throat.
“I have not.”
“You walked into the pantry door on Monday.”
“It attacked me.”
“You put orange juice in your coffee yesterday.”
“I was distracted.”
“You've been staring at me.”
The spoon stopped.
Enid slowly looked over.
Wednesday was watching her.
There was something almost amused in her expression.
“You stare at me.”
The words escaped before Enid could stop them.
Wednesday went still.
Enid's pulse thudded.
There.
She saw it.
That almost invisible flicker.
Wednesday's eyes dropping briefly to her mouth.
Then back up.
“I observe you.”
Enid's stomach flipped.
“That's just staring with extra syllables.”
Wednesday's mouth twitched.
Enid looked back at the sauce before she did something stupid.
She dipped the spoon into it and tasted.
“Needs something.”
“More paprika.”
Enid added it.
Wednesday leaned closer.
“Taste it again.”
Enid did.
“Better.”
Wednesday held out her hand.
“Spoon.”
Enid glanced at her.
Normally she'd hand it over.
Instead, something reckless stirred inside her.
Something encouraged by an entire week of noticing.
Enid lifted the spoon toward Wednesday's mouth.
Wednesday stared at her.
Enid's heart pounded.
“You wanted to taste it.”
A pause.
Then Wednesday leaned forward.
And tasted the sauce directly from the spoon Enid was holding.
Her eyes never left Enid's.
Enid stopped breathing.
Wednesday swallowed.
“Acceptable.”
“Acceptable?”
“It requires salt.”
“You could say good once in your life.”
“I could.”
“You just choose violence.”
“Frequently.”
Enid grinned.
Wednesday's expression softened.
There it was again.
That look.
Only this time Enid didn't hide from it.
She watched.
Wednesday noticed.
Something shifted.
Enid stepped slightly closer.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You're smiling.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Not like that.”
Enid's grin widened.
Wednesday turned back to the vegetables.
Enid reached across her for the pepper grinder even though it was much easier to walk around her.
Her arm brushed Wednesday's.
Wednesday went rigid.
Interesting.
Enid sprinkled pepper into the sauce.
Then, purely experimentally, leaned her hip against the counter beside Wednesday.
Wednesday's knife slowed.
Very interesting.
Enid reached past her again.
This time her hand rested briefly against Wednesday's waist for balance.
The knife stopped completely.
Enid nearly squeaked.
Wednesday turned her head.
Slowly.
Dark eyes fixed on her.
“Enid.”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Cooking.”
“You have been cooking beside me for nearly four years.”
“I'm experienced.”
“You're behaving differently.”
Enid picked up a piece of sliced pepper and ate it.
“Maybe you're only just noticing.”
Wednesday stared at her.
Enid bit back a smile.
Then Wednesday gave the slightest breath of laughter.
That tiny, warm sound she almost never made for anyone else.
Her eyes softened.
“You're such a tease.”
Everything inside Enid stopped.
The kitchen.
The house.
The rain tapping against the windows.
Everything disappeared beneath those four words.
Bianca's voice returned.
Watch her.
So Enid did.
She looked at Wednesday properly.
At the amusement in her eyes.
At how close they were standing.
At the faint colour high across Wednesday's cheekbones.
At the way Wednesday's gaze flickered down when Enid wet a spot of sauce from her thumb.
At the unmistakable tension running through her shoulders.
And Enid thought,
Fine.
If Wednesday Addams thought she was a tease…
Enid could show her teasing.
She put the spoon down.
Wednesday watched the movement.
Enid stepped closer.
Wednesday's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Enid stepped closer again.
Now there were barely inches between them.
Wednesday didn't retreat.
Of course she didn't.
But she did swallow.
Enid almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
“You think I'm a tease?”
“I have sufficient evidence.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Enid reached up.
Very slowly.
Giving Wednesday every opportunity to move away.
Her fingers caught the edge of Wednesday's collar and straightened it.
Wednesday's breathing changed.
Just slightly.
But Enid heard it.
God.
Bianca was right.
Bianca was so unbelievably right.
Enid let her fingers linger against the collar.
Wednesday's eyes had gone very dark.
“Enid.”
“Wednesday.”
“You're playing a dangerous game.”
Enid smiled.
“Maybe I like dangerous games.”
“I've noticed.”
Enid's fingers drifted downward.
Not far.
Just enough to brush the top button of Wednesday's shirt.
Wednesday's gaze dropped to her mouth again.
This time Enid caught her.
Wednesday realised she had been caught.
Neither of them moved.
Enid's courage surged.
“Want me to stop?”
Wednesday's eyes snapped back to hers.
“No.”
One word.
Immediate.
Certain.
Enid's heart practically detonated.
She stepped closer until Wednesday's back touched the counter.
Wednesday stared up at her.
Enid had always loved that she was slightly taller.
She had simply never allowed herself to enjoy it quite this much.
“You know,” Enid murmured, “I've learned something interesting this week.”
Wednesday's hands rested against the counter behind her.
“And what unfortunate revelation is that?”
“You look at me a lot.”
Wednesday's expression changed.
Barely.
But Enid saw it now.
“You've been monitoring my ocular behaviour?”
“Basically.”
“Disturbing.”
“You taught me well.”
Wednesday's lips twitched.
Enid's fingertips were still resting against her collar.
“You buy my cereal.”
Wednesday blinked.
“What?”
“You wait outside my lectures when it rains.”
“You routinely forget umbrellas.”
“You know when I've got cramps.”
Wednesday went completely still.
Enid bit her lip.
“A little creepy, by the way.”
“You complain loudly.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“You once threatened to remove your own uterus with a grapefruit spoon.”
“It was a bad month.”
Wednesday's mouth twitched again.
Enid's smile faded.
“You do all these things for me.”
Silence.
Wednesday's eyes searched her face.
Enid suddenly felt terrified again.
But this time she didn't run from it.
“Why?”
Wednesday didn't answer.
“Wednesday.”
Her jaw tightened.
And there she was.
Not fearless.
Not emotionless.
Wednesday was scared.
Enid had somehow never imagined Wednesday might be scared too.
“You know why.”
Enid's breath caught.
“I don't.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I really don't.”
Wednesday looked away.
Enid's heart ached.
So she let go of her collar.
Immediately Wednesday looked back.
Enid saw something flash across her face.
Disappointment.
That was all Enid needed.
She rested both hands on the counter, one on either side of Wednesday.
Not trapping her.
Just close.
“Tell me.”
Wednesday stared at her for what felt like forever.
Then quietly,
“I have developed an inconvenient attachment.”
Enid's lips twitched.
“An attachment.”
“A severe one.”
“How severe?”
Wednesday's eyes narrowed.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Maybe.”
“A tease.”
“You started it.”
“That remains debatable.”
Enid leaned slightly closer.
“How severe, Wednesday?”
Wednesday studied her face.
And finally, painfully, wonderfully, said,
“I am in love with you.”
Enid forgot every clever response she had ever possessed.
Her mouth fell open.
Wednesday's expression immediately shuttered.
“I realise this may complicate—”
Enid kissed her.
Wednesday made a tiny surprised sound against her lips.
For approximately half a second she didn't move.
Then one hand caught Enid's waist.
The other slid into her hair.
And Wednesday kissed her back.
Enid had imagined kissing Wednesday Addams an embarrassing number of times.
None of those imaginary kisses had prepared her for the real thing.
Wednesday kissed with the same intensity she applied to everything else.
Completely.
Precisely.
As though kissing Enid had become the only task currently worthy of her full concentration.
When they finally separated, Enid was grinning so widely her cheeks hurt.
Wednesday looked distinctly less composed than she had five minutes earlier.
Enid adored it.
“I love you too.”
Wednesday blinked.
Enid's grin softened.
“I have since Nevermore.”
Wednesday stared.
“Since Nevermore?”
“Yep.”
“You've been in love with me for years.”
“Mmhmm.”
“And said nothing.”
Enid's eyebrows shot upward.
“You've been in love with me and said nothing!”
“I assumed my behaviour was sufficiently obvious.”
Enid stared at her.
Then burst out laughing.
Wednesday frowned.
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
Enid dropped her forehead against Wednesday's shoulder.
“We're idiots.”
“I reject that assessment.”
“Everyone knows.”
Wednesday went still.
Enid lifted her head.
“What?”
“Everyone knows?”
“Apparently.”
“Who?”
“Bianca, Yoko, Divina, Ajax, Kent, Eugene…”
Wednesday's expression darkened with every name.
“Pugsley.”
“My brother knew?”
“Apparently for ages.”
Wednesday looked genuinely offended.
“Agnes too.”
“That explains Tuesday.”
“What happened Tuesday?”
“She asked whether I'd finally developed courage.”
Enid burst out laughing again.
Wednesday scowled.
Then a sound came from the hallway.
A muffled thump.
Both women turned toward the doorway.
Silence.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed.
She stepped away from Enid and walked to the kitchen door.
Enid followed.
Wednesday opened it.
Bianca, Yoko and Divina fell through.
Literally.
Yoko landed on Bianca.
Divina caught herself against the wall.
Behind them stood Eugene, Ajax, Kent, Pugsley and Agnes.
Everyone froze.
Wednesday stared.
Enid stared.
Bianca slowly raised one hand.
“Hi.”
Wednesday's eyes became lethal.
“You were listening.”
“No.”
Yoko remained sprawled halfway across Bianca.
“We were aggressively standing near the door.”
“You fell through it.”
“Architectural failure.”
Pugsley looked at Wednesday.
“Did you finally tell her?”
Wednesday's stare moved to him.
Pugsley reconsidered his life choices.
Agnes peered around his shoulder.
“They kissed.”
Everyone looked at her.
“How do you know?” Eugene asked.
Agnes shrugged.
“They have kissing faces.”
Enid immediately covered her face.
Wednesday looked murderous.
Bianca scrambled upright.
“So we're just going to leave.”
“Run,” Pugsley suggested.
They ran.
Every single one of them.
Wednesday watched them disappear.
“I could kill them.”
Enid slid her arms around Wednesday's waist from behind.
Wednesday immediately relaxed against her.
“You'd miss them.”
“Eventually.”
Enid pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Wednesday turned in her arms.
“You're excessively cheerful.”
“I've just found out the girl I've been in love with for years loves me back.”
“A reasonable explanation.”
Enid smiled.
Then remembered something.
“The sauce!”
They both turned.
The pan was bubbling ominously.
Wednesday switched off the heat.
Enid peered inside.
“Is it ruined?”
Wednesday inspected it.
“Probably.”
“Pizza?”
“Acceptable.”
Enid grinned.
Wednesday looked at her.
And there it was again.
That tiny smile.
That softness reserved only for Enid.
Only now Enid finally knew what it meant.
She leaned against the counter.
“Hey, Wednesday?”
“Yes?”
Enid crooked one finger.
“Come here.”
Wednesday's eyes narrowed.
“You intend to tease me again.”
Enid smiled innocently.
“Maybe.”
Wednesday walked toward her anyway.
And this time, when Enid kissed her, there wasn't a single person in the house who could claim to be surprised.