Leah still wasn't completely sold on the idea of a surprise picnic. The suggestion had come from Elliott, and, well, while the guy was certainly a romantic, he didn't always have his feet totally on the ground. Would it come across as creepy to ambush the object of her affection in the woods with a plate of her favorite food? The first part was absolutely a little questionable, but would the food part make up for that? Maybe, if it was good enough.

For all her worrying, Leah doubted that Vesper would find anything but goodwill behind the gesture, which put her mind at ease a little bit. Vesper had never had any qualms about barging into Leah's space with a gift in hand, after all, so this seemed right up her alley.

That was Leah's reasoning, at least, as she unloaded the last of the meal she'd made from the basket over her arm and laid it out on the table—her own kitchen table, which she'd hauled out here with Elliott's help earlier in the afternoon.

"She's at the beach fishing," the author had reported upon arriving, slightly out of breath, at her doorstep. "Now's the perfect time to get everything ready."

And Leah hadn't exactly been able to turn him down after he'd come all that way to give her the news, so she'd gone ahead with the plan. Her table was now situated down by the riverside, just where the ground was firm enough to hold it without sinking, and the surface was packed with a multitude of veggie-rich dishes she'd cooked up for the occasion. At the very least, she figured Vesper would appreciate the calories; the woman ran virtually everywhere she went. Her nerves were still a little jittery, though, as she adjusted and readjusted the setup she'd put together and wondered for the thousandth time if the farmer would like it.

She didn't get much more time to stew. It was at that moment that the familiar rustle of hurried footsteps met her ears from a little ways up the path, approaching fast. Leah sucked in a deep breath that was meant to be steadying but only served to make her head feel light, then leaned her hip casually against the table (the table that was sitting in the middle of the woods; the furthest thing from casual). The sun was just beginning to brush the tops of the trees far behind her, throwing the eastern path in gold as if to herald Vesper's arrival.

All it did in actuality was cause the farmer to squint against its rays so intently that she almost jogged right by Leah where she stood just off the path. The redhead had to literally clear her throat before Vesper took notice and stumbled to a walk.

"Leah?" she panted curiously as she slowed.

"Oh!" replied Leah, as if she were surprised. As if she hadn't been the one to arrange every detail of this very meeting. Very smooth. She resisted the urge to smack herself in the forehead, thinking ugh, I'm so useless. "H-hi, Vesper. I, um, figured you might be passing through here this evening." Great, now she sounded creepy. Even better.

Vesper gave her a mildly confused smile, running her gaze over the misplaced table and plates as she caught her breath. "What's this?"

"It's, um, a picnic," Leah explained, cringing inwardly. "For us." Now was the moment of truth. What if Vesper laughed? What if she was too busy to take a break? What if she was allergic to every vegetable on the table? What if—

"What's the occasion?" the farmer asked.

"Nothing really," Leah shrugged, ducking her head a little to hide the blush that was climbing up to her ears. Or, at least, to attempt it. She could still feel the heat. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. After all the nice things you've done for me." She tucked her bangs behind her ear a bit bashfully. "Helping me take one step closer to my dream, and all."

Vesper's grin stretched wider, making her crinkled eyes catch the bright evening sun. She approached the table and glanced over the dishes approvingly before turning that glinting gold gaze on Leah. "You don't owe me anything, flower. That was all for you."

"I just—" Geez, when had the farmer come so close? "I-I know, but you deserve nice things too."

Vesper's smile softened into something affectionate and positively melting. "Thanks, Leah," she said, and Leah was relieved to find that she sounded completely genuine. Not condescending. Not pitying. Nothing like the way Kel would have been. That warm look lingered on her for a moment extra before returning to the food. "What did you make?"

"Oh!" For a whole beat, Leah could not remember for the life of her what the answer to that question was. Before now, she'd had a virtual menu all lined up in her head, but coherent thought had a way of vanishing from her grasp the moment Vesper showed up. She chewed her lip and glanced at the bowls, hoping the names of what was inside would spring to mind. A bunch of leafy greens met her scrutiny. Oh. Right. "This is a vegetable medley seasoned with my special spice blend," she recalled, indicating the first bowl, which still steamed lightly in the cooling air. Then the second: "and this is fresh salad made with greens from the forest."

"Looks healthy," Vesper observed good-naturedly, lowering herself into one of the chairs at the table's edge.

Leah quickly claimed the other one and reached for the pair of empty plates she'd brought out to serve the food on. "I try my best," she replied with a laugh that sounded far too high-pitched to her own ears. To distract herself, she began portioning out the meal onto each of their plates. "Some of everything?"

"Please." Vesper accepted the plate Leah passed her, but waited to dig in until the redhead had secured her own. Leah sort of wished she wouldn't, even though the gesture was just so characteristically considerate; made her fall that much harder for the lovely farmer. She blamed the sun for the heat in her cheeks as the farmer watched her and waited.

Once they both had their plates, they began to eat, Leah hanging back a moment to watch Vesper's reaction. "Taste okay?" she asked tentatively. Unfortunately, the question caught Vesper right in the middle of a bite, so the farmer just nodded enthusiastically instead of trying to say anything around a big mouthful of greens.

After that, they went about packing away the meal in companionable silence—only, Leah figured it was much more comfortable for Vesper than she, thanks to the spiral of uncertain thoughts that had taken to racing through her mind again. The one that kept surfacing most pressingly was are we okay? but every time she considered voicing the tentative question, the words got stuck someplace between her brain and her throat. Irrationally, she felt as if asking the question might somehow change the answer. Like Vesper would get irritated with her for not knowing where they stood.

Even thinking of it that way made her feel foolish. When had Vesper ever gotten irritated with her over something as silly as that? Or at all, even? There was absolutely no evidence to support the fear that she'd somehow reject Leah for trying to communicate. But for some reason, the prospect remained frightening.

The question was, would it be worse to risk sounding like a fool, or to go on not knowing whether there had been some sort of hiccup between them?

Leah thought she knew.

The redhead began taking deep breaths, staring resolutely down at her fork and trying to psych herself up for the hurdle that was, inexplicably, simply talking to her friend. The extra oxygen only served to make her head go light, so Leah let out her breath in a huff and steeled herself. Get a grip, she thought impatiently, this shouldn't be so difficult. When she looked up, the farmer was already watching her curiously. Leah nearly quailed beneath her gaze, but clenched her fists and did not back down. "Vesper," she began, roughly, haltingly, but finally.

"Mhm?" Twin creases were forming between the farmer's brows as she watched Leah struggle and stew for what was probably no reason at all, concerned.

Leah opened her mouth, faltered as she cast around for the right words, and closed it again. She couldn't quite hold Vesper's eyes. She cleared her throat and tried again: "Vesper, are we—"

"Well, well, well!" A voice, sudden and shocking and abrasive, shattered the moment. Leah shot up out of her chair so fast the plates clattered against the tabletop, whipping around to face the source. A figure was stepping out of the nearby treeline, approaching from the woods. A familiar one. "What have we here?"

It all hit Leah as if it were fresh as yesterday: the voice, the figure, the fear. "Kel?" Leah gasped, feeling her chest constrict and her vision go black around the edges. This couldn't be happening. This had to be some sort of—of hallucination, or dream, or something. Kel could not be here. She'd left Kel behind in Zuzu City. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, and hated that her voice shook.

Kel came ever closer, features clarifying through the haze of encroaching dusk. He was smirking like a cat with a mouse in its jaws. "Didn't you see me at the art show? I came all the way from Zuzu City to see your sculptures," he said smoothly, innocently, like he'd actually do anything for her benefit. It didn't take long for the other shoe to drop. "You've come a long way. But don't you think it's time to come back now, babe? I miss you."

Leah physically flinched. "Don't call me that," she spat, fury rising up beside fear. Her mind cast back against her will to every time she'd stood up to Kel before; every time he made her regret it afterward, and she felt herself shrink. But Vesper was here this time. People who cared about her were on her side this time, so she dredged up the courage to continue, "You never supported my art before. You don't get to just take me back now that I've had some success, Kel." Then, some of her resolve draining away in the face of Kel's deepening scowl, Leah began to back away, fully intending to retreat to her cabin where she could phone the police. She only hoped they could get here from the city in time. "I never want to see you again," she cried on the last desperate traces of emboldening anger. "You make me sick."

Kel, of course, did not appreciate that. "Hey! You don't get to talk to me like that," he snarled, face darkening like a stormcloud where just moments ago it had been calm, clear, charming—the facade that she had fallen for almost three years ago. "Come here!" He balled his fists and took an angry stride toward Leah—

—Only to run smack into Vesper's solid form, which had wedged its way firmly between the two sides during the pause. "Leave her alone," the farmer said in deadly soft tones. Leah felt a rush of short-lived relief; of fondness and gratitude toward the other woman. Yes, she thought briefly, I found the right one this time.

Her thoughts were interrupted once more by Kel's voice. "Who are you? Get out of my way."

"I don't think so," Vesper continued in that low, calm voice that belied hidden danger. Leah could see the muscles of her shoulders pulled taut beneath her shirt, ready for a fight. Glancing between Kel's burly form and Vesper's lithe musculature, she could not say with any confidence who might win. "You're not welcome here. Leave."

Kel bulled right into Vesper's personal space as if expecting her to step aside just because he said so. When she didn't, a vein began to bulge in his forehead. "I don't answer to you!" he shouted in her face. Leah cringed, but Vesper didn't waver. "I'm here for Leah."

"So am I," the farmer said stolidly.

Kel spluttered furiously. "What, are you her new little girlfriend or something?" he demanded, scowling across at Leah. "You're a lesbian now, is that it?"

"N-no, of course not!" Leah stammered out on instinct, and immediately regretted it when out of the corner of her eye she saw Vesper glance at her sharply, and was that—did she look almost hurt? "I mean—" Oh, Yoba, she'd done it now. This was all too much. She couldn't stand here, torn between her past and her present, trying to juggle them both in a way that wouldn't leave them all shattered on the ground in the end. "I-I'm not—"

"Why are you even hanging around this stupid country bumpkin? What has she got to offer that I can't?" Kel fumed.

That did it. All of Leah's fear and anxiety and anger and uncertainty coalesced into a single boiling ball that shot to the surface and popped. In the moment directly following, a sharp, stinging clarity came over her and she found the strength to shout, "Vesper is a better person than you in every respect! She is kind and caring and strong and I'd choose her over you ten times out of ten." That hit a nerve, if Kel's face was any indicator, but for once the reaction filled Leah with resolve instead of regret. "Leave us alone!"

Kel, face red with rage, reached out to push past Vesper, snarling, "How dare you, you stupid, worthless sl—"

Vesper punched him in the nose.

It almost happened too fast for Leah to comprehend. One moment she was watching Kel attempt to charge toward her, fresh panic crawling up and freezing her muscles in place, and the next Kel was on the ground.

He didn't stay that way for long. He got up, shouting and swearing and holding his bleeding nose, and swung a fist at Vesper.

She dodged the first strike. She did not dodge the second.

"Vesper!" Leah cried out as her farmer reeled and fell onto her rear in the grass, eyes glazed. She was too far away; too slow; too weak to stop Kel from charging his opponent and tackling her flat. Vesper fought back, and as the two of them became a tangled mass of flying limbs and blooming bruises, it hit Leah as she stood there, useless, just how far out of her depth she really was.

"Help!" she pleaded with the forest at large, hoping someone—anyone—was close enough to hear her, because this was not something she expected to resolve on its own. Stupid, she was cursing herself in her mind, stupid, stupid. You can't even stand up for yourself, and look what happened. Stupid. She felt like crying or screaming, neither of which were very helpful options right now. What else could she do? Try to break up the fight? Run for help? None sounded better.

Thankfully, she did not have to choose. At that moment, the door of Marnie's ranch banged open, spilling both Shane and Marnie herself from the opening. Both began running across the grass the second they recognized Vesper on the ground beneath the burly stranger.

"Hey!" Shane was shouting as he pulled ahead of Marnie, and even from this distance Leah could see the fury in his dark eyes. It was both frightening and gratifying to see such an intense reaction from the usually low-key character. Needless to say, Leah was glad to have him on her side. "Get the hell away from her!"

Kel scrambled back out of reach of Vesper's fists as the villagers approached. Leah could see in his dull, angry eyes the moment he realized that he was outmatched. Only then did he struggle to his feet and begin to retreat. "This isn't over," he growled as he backpedaled toward the woods he'd emerged from like some hairy, hulking cryptid.

"Yes the hell it is!" Shane shot back dangerously, refusing to give up the chase. Behind him, Marnie had out her cellular phone, her face pinched and voice clipped as she spoke to what was surely the local police force. "Yes, the Cindersap Forest," she was saying, "south of the ranch."

Relief flooded Leah's system as the situation simmered down and reality seemed to return. It had never ended like this before; with the prospect of justice to be served. It had always been her who'd been forced to back down; to keep her mouth shut. There was something freeing about simply having other people be there. She resolved to do something nice for Marnie and Shane once this mess was cleared up.

Then her eyes cut to Vesper, and relief was overtaken by worry. Leah found herself running to the farmer's side without ever telling her feet to move. There, she fell to her knees beside where the other woman was splayed out on the ground, cradling her ribs.

"Oh, Yoba, are you okay?" she breathed, blinking back the rising threat of tears as she took in the bruises on Vesper's face and the cut above her eye. The last thing she needed to do right now was cry. Much higher on the list was help Vesper. "I'm sorry," she managed hoarsely as she leaned down to coax Vesper's free arm up and around her own shoulders. "I'm so sorry. Come on, let's get you back to the cabin."

With effort, the two of them were able to get Vesper shakily to her feet, and once she was sure they wouldn't tumble back down again, Leah led the way toward her cottage. She passed Marnie, who was still on the phone, with a heartily mouthed thank you! and the silent promise to thank her properly later.

The older woman covered the receiver and replied tightly, "We'll be over to check on you two in a minute, okay?" before returning to the call, and Leah nodded gratefully. She could hear Shane back behind them, still shouting into the woods.

Thank Yoba for them, she thought on a heavy sigh, muscles straining as she bore a good portion of Vesper's weight up to her front door and across the threshold. The only thing on her mind once inside was how best to help her friend, so it was without words that she sat Vesper down on the chair in her kitchen, hurried to the cabinet where she kept her medicinal herbs, and began shoving rows of bundles and bottles around until she found the arnica and grasped it in a rush.

Vesper didn't speak as Leah knelt in front of her chair and pushed her hair out of the way to reveal the worst of the bruises blooming on her brow. She didn't even acknowledge when the redhead dipped her fingers in the jar of ointment and then touched them to her skin, rubbing gently. Leah hadn't really expected the farmer to be talkative after waging a literal fistfight in her front yard, but the air between them felt tense and strange in the silence, and Leah couldn't hold out long before it began to eat at her. She remembered with a shot of remorse what she'd been about to ask just before Kel arrived, and how much things had changed since then. If she and Vesper had been okay before, were they still? The farmer certainly looked pretty not okay. She kept her eyes down and her hands clasped together so tight the knuckles whitened, and the sight made Leah's heart sink. She thought she might know what exactly had her so upset.

A disdainful accusation.

A quick denial.

A sharp, hurt glance.

Leah only lasted as long as it took to rub the arnica into the farmer's head wound before bursting out, voice laced with apology, "Vesper—"

"Don't," the farmer mumbled, not looking up.

Leah brought a finger beneath her chin to try to coax her gaze up, pleading, "Vesper, please. I want you to understand—"

Vesper shook her head the slightest bit, unseating Leah's hand. "I think I understand perfectly," she said hollowly. Her voice was thick through her clogged and damaged nose, and it tore at Leah's insides. It was nothing, though, compared to the sheer dread that seized her when the farmer stood up suddenly and turned toward the door.

"No!" Leah burst out, shooting to her feet and grabbing for Vesper's hand. The farmer didn't shake out of her grip, but neither did she return it. "You don't understand. Please let me explain."

Vesper gave no answer but to regard her with dead amber eyes, and Leah figured that was probably the best she was going to get. She took a deep, shaky breath and blinked back rising tears, unable to hold that gaze for long. She didn't recognize this side of the farmer, and she didn't like it. She missed the brightness; the warmth Vesper had always exuded before. She missed—she missed Vesper. The real Vesper.

She had to fix this.

"I'm—not usually into girls," she began, and immediately winced. Her desperation intensified as the farmer gently extricated her hand from Leah's and once again faced the exit. Before she realized that her feet were moving, Leah had rushed in front of her to block her path, hands outstretched as if to hold her in place. "I'm just into you."

Vesper's bland expression didn't change. "I'm a girl."

Leah groaned and palmed her face, cursing her inability to communicate when it was important. She had to fix this, now. "Now is not the time to be a smartass," she said weakly. "I just—I'm sorry." She let her hand fall away and with it came the tears that she'd been trying to hold back since she laid eyes on Kel in the woods. They were accompanied by the beginnings of a sob, which she swallowed down quickly and tried to explain, voice trembling, "I-I wanted tonight to be nice because I just appreciate you so much, and it was great at first but then when Kel showed up and started yelling at me and at—at you, I panicked, and everything came out wrong and I—" She was breathing too hard, too fast. The tears wouldn't stop and when she raised a hand to wipe them away it was trembling. Get a hold of yourself, she thought bitterly, scrubbing resentfully at her wet cheeks. She was so useless. And weak. She couldn't defend herself against her past, and now she couldn't even handle the present. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away like it wasn't too late to hide her state from Vesper.

Vesper, who had no reason to care anymore.

But who cared anyway. "Leah," the farmer's voice broke through the barrage of Leah's miserable thoughts and soothed her like a balm. "Leah, flower, it's okay." Leah didn't register the sound of footsteps on the floor that brought Vesper to her; only the way she was suddenly wrapped in a gentle, steadying embrace that smelled like grass and safety. She sank into it with a shudder, beyond relieved that she was still even allowed to touch Vesper like this. That the farmer didn't seem angry; not really. On the contrary, she was soft and sympathetic as ever as she ran comforting hands over Leah's back and murmured in her ear, "I've got you. I'm right here. You don't have to worry about Kel anymore. Okay?"

Leah let out a deep, ragged sigh and buried her face in Vesper's shoulder. "Stop, I'm the one trying to make you feel better," she mumbled thickly through her tears.

Vesper sighed too, and it was just as deep and just as shaky. For a long minute she said nothing and simply stood there, holding Leah, soothing her like she was the one who'd just been punched in the face repeatedly and not the farmer. Leah both loved and hated it: loved it because obviously she wanted Vesper's arms around her, and there was nowhere she felt safer than in this embrace; hated it because she was always the one breaking down and receiving the comforting and never the other way around. She hated her weakness. She just wished she knew how to stop it.

At length, Vesper's low, rough voice pulled her out of her thoughts: "So, you're into me?"

Leah couldn't hold back a helpless little laugh. "It wasn't obvious?" she said into Vesper's shoulder. Was it just her, or did something there seem out of place?

"I didn't want to assume. That's the best way to be let down," Vesper admitted. She spoke to a point a little past Leah's ear, and somehow it was easier to talk like this, when neither could see the other. When neither could let the fear of judgment hold them back. "After the night of your art show it became pretty obvious, though."

Leah groaned and buried her face in the gray cloth of Vesper's shirt. "I wish you would tell me what happened," she said, muffled.

"Nothing happened."

"But what did I say?"

Vesper fell silent, and Leah pulled back to gauge her reaction. She was mildly surprised to find that the farmer was chewing her lip intently, evidently actually considering telling her. Her heart began to climb into her throat as the moment of truth came rushing suddenly toward her. Now that she had the chance to know, did she actually want to?

Looking into Vesper's conflicted, downcast eyes, she supposed that either way, she ought to. She had to know what she possibly could have done to make her bright, cheerful farmer look quite this distressed. Hesitantly, she unwound herself from Vesper except for one hand that she kept linked with hers, giving the farmer space to gather herself.

Finally, terrifyingly, Vesper drew in a long, deep breath and let it out in a longer, deeper sigh. Her eyes came up to meet Leah's, and the amber was shadowed with uncertainty. "You said you wanted to kiss me. I told you I wouldn't believe that until I heard it from you sober."

"Oh." Leah didn't register moving; only found herself with her head in her hands suddenly as the world spun and her heart stuttered in time with it. "Oh, Yoba." She could feel the blood drain from her face, then rush back with a vengeance in a deep blush. No wonder she's upset. No wonder things have been weird. I'm such an idiot. Leah looked up at the farmer quickly, feeling panic lick up like flames within her throat. Was this it? Had she ruined everything? "I'm so sorry, Vesper. That must have been so awkward," she apologized in a rush, groaning and squeezing her temples. "Yoba! This is why I don't drink around other people."

Vesper didn't immediately answer. She instead reached calmly for Leah's wrists and, when the redhead didn't resist, pulled them gently away from her head. When Leah met her eyes, the amber was unreadable but intense. "Do you?" Vesper asked.

Leah felt breathless; brainless. "What?"

"Want to kiss me."

The world spun. Leah's throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. All she could hear was her heartbeat. She was terrified, but this—this was it. This was her chance, cut and dried and laid out before her like a banquet, and all she had to do was take it. "I—I—" She still struggled to get the words out. She gulped down the lump in her throat and pressed on. "Of course I do. But I'm—scared," she confessed.

Vesper let out a breath of something like relief, her own face coloring a little. Her thumbs ran gently over the pulse points in Leah's wrists. She had to feel the redhead's heart racing, but she didn't let go. "Scared of what?"

"Of how it turned out last time," Leah provided softly, looking at the bruises all over the farmer's face. She would have reached up to touch them, but she didn't really want to break the contact they shared right now.

Vesper's grip tightened just a hint. "Leah," she said rawly, and the sheer weight of her name as it fell from the farmer's lips made her shiver. "I will never hurt you."

Leah squeezed her eyes shut like the words themselves were a physical blow, remembering all those she'd suffered at Kel's hands. All those Kel had bestowed upon Vesper, now, too. Imagining Vesper holding her like this forever, replacing the memory of each one with soft touches and kind words. "I know," she breathed, feeling like she was drowning, if drowning could be pleasant. This was all too much. She gripped Vesper's shirt in tight fingers like a lifeline. "I know."

She felt Vesper brush back her long bangs; tuck them behind her ear. Then her hand lingered, thumb running reverently along the ridge of Leah's cheekbone. "I…" Vesper's voice came out hoarse, and she bit her lip. Leah looked up to meet her eyes and found them so warm, so full that it took her breath away. That was nothing, however, compared to the absolute punch to the gut that her next words provided:

"I love you."

Leah was distantly aware that she was shaking. Her fingers trembled in the folds of Vesper's shirt, and every breath she took shuddered in her lungs. The feeling took a back seat, however, to every other emotion raging through her right now—and there were a lot.

She didn't know what to say to even begin to express them. So she didn't.

Leah tightened her hold on Vesper and pulled her down into a kiss.

The first thought that entered her mind as her lips pressed desperately—finally—to the farmer's was I'm so glad I'm sober for this. Because she doubted that a drunk version of herself would have been able to comprehend everything that she was feeling in this moment: the way Vesper's chapped lips instantly caressed her own like something precious; the steadiness of the farmer's hands as they flattened against the small of her back; the electric jolts of pleasure that shot through her insides at every touch.

Her second thought was why on earth did we wait so long to do this?

Now that they'd started, she never wanted to stop. She could breathe in Vesper's characteristic scent of grass and sunshine forever; tangle her fingers in navy hair and press herself into curves that seemed made just for her until the world ended. She'd wasted enough time already.

Vesper seemed to agree, if the way she held Leah so tightly was any indicator. She slid one hand down to Leah's hip, pulling her closer while the other trailed teasing paths along the skin of her midriff, and the touch made her shiver.

Head spinning, she broke away for an instant; just long enough to wonder breathlessly, "Is this how it's supposed to feel?" In all her experience, she'd never been quite this affected by a single kiss. Never had her body felt this hot; her heartbeat this quick. She blinked up into Vesper's hazy, half-lidded eyes and wondered if she looked that wrecked, too. Probably yes. Probably more.

"Yes," the farmer whispered, lifting her hand to run her knuckles along Leah's jaw.

The artist nearly swooned. "Oh, Yoba, Vesper," she managed instead. She had to close her eyes and concentrate just to keep her breathing steady and rational thought within her grasp. Her insides felt as if they were twisting up like a dandelion crown and it wasn't altogether unpleasant. In fact, she sort of didn't want it to stop. The feeling intensified whenever Vesper touched her—like now, when her fingers began trailing down the side of her neck toward her collar, leaving tingles in their wake.

It was then that it hit Leah like a freight train exactly what she was feeling. What she had been feeling for weeks and maybe months and maybe since the very moment she laid eyes on this wonderful woman. She looked up again and met Vesper's heavy gaze and found her courage in those warm golden depths. On a shuddering sigh, she confessed, "I love you too."

Vesper's answering grin was even, for once, and impossibly bright. It got in the way a little as the farmer leaned down and captured Leah's lips once more, but she wouldn't have traded the experience for a thing.

Finally, she thought in pure bliss as they lost themselves in each other again. Finally.

…