Inside she flips on a light switch and I get my first look at what could be a private gallery. Up against one wall, near the door, are stacks of logs and an axe propped up. Every other wall though has multiple paintings on it, and then there are some propped up in a rack.

In the far back corner, under a row of spotlights, is a painting I immediately recognise. It is of myself coming down the stairs at the first gala we attended together when she was my assistant. The background is a muted soft red and I realise that she must have been working on this since we arrived. The colour perfectly matches the paint splodges that I noticed on her hands and face.

"Come take a look at these," she requests, a strange combination of shy and wary on her face, as she walks over to the rack.

She turns to me, takes my hands, and a single deep breath before she starts to talk. I know before she starts that she is preparing to bare her soul to me, so I squeeze her hands lightly in encouragement and smile up at her.

"I started painting because I felt lost, and alone. I thought that our situation was hopeless. Painting helped me work through some of the emotions I was feeling at the time, you know? Please don't think badly of me, ok?" Andrea looks terrified, and I wonder what she is about to show me.

I lean forwards and kiss her, "I could never think badly of you. Show me, darling," I request. "Show me, and tell me about your work."

She lets go of my hands and flips through the paintings, pulling one out from near the back. She holds it up in front of us and remains quiet while my eyes rove greedily over the canvas.

I am staring at a portrait of myself, and I am stunned at how beautiful she has made me look. Is this how she sees me? My eyes are soft and I have a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I look happy, and I look like I'm in love. It's the same look I saw in my eyes earlier when I was standing in front of the mirror changing.

"I used to wonder if I imagined it," she explains softly, "you would look at me like this, and I thought I was dreaming, or just seeing what I wanted to. When I was painting you it was the only way that it became real to me, even if just for a short while."

"Andrea, I caught sight of myself in the mirror only yesterday and saw this exact expression on my face. It's an expression that you, and only you, have the power to put there. It's very real, I promise you."

"I know," she shrugs, "well, now I do, anyway."

She pulls out another one, but before she spins it around and shows me, she blushes and her eyes dart all over the place as she looks everywhere but directly at me. I reach up and stroke her cheek gently, trying to convey that whatever it is that is worrying her will be ok.

She smiles then and nods, more to herself than me. Then she looks up and meets my eyes, and the breath nearly leaves my body. Even without the tears that have now appeared in her eyes, the emotions there are so powerful, they enhance her beauty in a way that make-up will never do for a person.

"You're either going to think this is incredibly creepy, or kinda sweet, I don't know." She is bashful then, as she flips it around for me to look at.

It's a family portrait, and we are all sitting on a sofa in what I immediately recognise to be the Townhouse. She has painted a wonderfully traditional portrait; of the girls, of Andrea, of myself and, I would recognise that shaggy dog anywhere, Patricia. It must have been painted a while ago, because Patricia passed away just after the first Paris fashion week we attended together, two years ago.

The girls appear to be about nine years old, and their hair is still long and curly, in almost identical styles to each other. Their hair is shorter now and Cassidy prefers to straighten hers and leave it loose, whilst Caroline favours tying it up so it is off her face. Although their hairstyles are similar in this painting, there are still subtle differences. The position of the parting in their hair, the extra freckles that Caroline has on her nose and cheeks and the slightly more angular jaw that Cassidy has. They are identical twins yet I see nothing but the differences between them and it is so gratifying to know that Andrea sees them too.

"Oh, Andrea. I don't know how you have managed to capture us all so perfectly. You know the girls so well to be able to paint such subtle differences between them. You truly see them for who they are as individuals. This is incredible, my darling."

She startles me then as I hear a sob leave her and I look up to see tears streaming down her cheeks. I take the painting from her and put it into the rack before almost throwing myself into her arms.

I can feel her shaking as she cries. I hold her and whisper what I hope are comforting things in her ear, stroking her back soothingly.

"I'm sorry," she cries into my shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologise for. Why are you so upset, darling?"

She pulls away then and rubs the tears from her eyes. I can see the immense struggle she goes through to gain control of her emotions.

"These paintings are all so painful for me. I spent years, hopelessly in love with you, and I painted away my pain. That's why I hate them so much, they remind me of a life filled with constant loss and grief, unable to be with the woman I was in love with."

"Oh, Andrea, I'm so sorry. I wish I had known how you felt." I can feel my heart absolutely breaking for the woman I am holding in my arms. My own heart has felt like this many times since I realised I was in love with her. If only I had known that her plight was so very similar to my own. If only I had been brave enough and had taken a chance, I could have saved us both this torment.

I am not sure I know the right words to comfort her, so I press myself against her, holding our bodies close and hoping that she can find some comfort in our embrace.

"Tell me things will be different," Andrea says quietly in my ear, "I need to know that this won't end when we leave here. I am so scared that we will go back to New York and you will decide that it's too hard for you. I don't want you to wake up and realise that you made a huge mistake, because I don't think I could take it."

"I think we both have similar concerns, and all I can tell you, Andrea, is that you are it for me. You are the one. I have been waiting for you my whole life, and what a lonely life it has been without you, my love. I know it will take time for you to trust this, but I have no intention of letting you go."

She pulls back, and I can see her examining my face, searching my eyes for confirmation that my words are true. I allow her time to complete her observation, and I am relieved when a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she leans forward to kiss me.

"I feel like we have a lot to talk about," she tells me hesitantly, "and I think we need to do it sooner rather than later. We both have things that we want or need out of a relationship, and it's better if we are upfront about them right from the beginning."

I am flabbergasted at her openness because I hadn't expected her to be quite so confident in this area. I have always struggled with intimacy, and not just the physical kind, but everything else that is expected in a relationship. Setting out clear boundaries and making sure that we both know what the other expects or needs from us is something that everyone should do. I know this, but I have never been with someone where I know I will be heard.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Perhaps we should set aside some time tonight when the girls are in bed?"

She smiles more widely then, "I was thinking that too. I don't want to spend the day separate from the girls, and I want them to have fun, you know? Tonight though, yes. Let's sit and talk for a while."

"Let's go and find my Bobbseys, and decide what we want to do today. I'm sure that they are full of ideas," I shake my head but I can feel myself smiling. Whatever they have planned, I know that the most important thing for them will be to spend it with myself and Andrea.

Soon, they will be too old to want this in quite the same way. It dawns on me then, that I can treasure the next few years because I will have more time than ever before. Whatever I decide to do next, it will not come at the expense of the relationship I hope to rebuild with my daughters.

We walk out of the, for lack of a better word, shed. Andrea picks up an armful of logs for the fire since the girls had returned empty-handed earlier.

I know that we will have a serious conversation later, but I'm not anxious about it. I know she loves me and I know she wants this to work as much as I do. I have hope, and I live on it, that between us we can overcome any hurdle that comes our way. Andrea has always achieved the impossible and I have never let anything stand in my way. Between us, we are the perfect team.

Andrea loves my girls and seems to be more than happy to step straight into the role of a step-parent for them, and it occurs to me that she has been unofficially doing this for years. She became an indispensable part of our family long before the recent developments between us. If anything, that strengthens my hope that we really can make this work between us.

I don't know what her net worth is, but it must be substantial, and I would not be surprised to find out that she had as much as, or even more than myself. It's a comforting thought, because my last husband was not as affluent, though I didn't know just how different our situations were until after we had married. He tried to take every penny he could when we divorced. He ended up leaving with as much as he entered with, which was nothing, but the battle we went through was damaging. I had a prenuptial agreement in place, but that didn't stop him from trying to take what he could, and when that didn't work, he made things as difficult as possible.

It's a relief to know that these will never be concerns with Andrea. She has her own money and property, but more than that, her character can be trusted. I do not doubt that if things didn't work out between us, that we would end gracefully, and she would still be in the girl's life. It gives me great comfort to be so sure of these things.

The girls are waiting patiently for us in the kitchen, as we step back in from the outside bringing with us a blast of cold wintery air. As I watch them, they dance over to Andrea, and each takes a log off of the pile that she has brought in with her. When did they become so helpful?

"Let's take them into the living room," she suggests, letting them lead the way. I follow because although I know they will be back, I can't get enough of being around the sweetness I feel when I see the three of them interact.

"Your Mom was going to show you how to make the fire, wasn't she?" Andrea asks, looking over their heads to check with me. I dip my head to let her know that it's ok.

I can feel the excitement radiating off of the girls as they tell her that they want to learn. Andrea tells them to sit down and explains that the first thing they should always do is get rid of the ash from the day before, and she gives them the tools to clear out the grate.

I almost laugh when I see their disappointed faces, which they are so evidently trying to hide. Andrea notices though.

"This part doesn't take long and then you can set the fire for me, ok? Removing the ash is just as important as anything else, though," she tells them, and they reply with a chorus of "yes, Andy."

Once the grate is empty of the previous day's ashes, she hands them sheets of newspaper to roll up into little balls and shows them where to arrange them. Then she passes them kindling, warning them to be careful of splinters, and watching carefully as they stack it. A few larger pieces are put on top, and she sits back.

"What do you think, girls? Think we're ready?" she asks, looking between them.

Cassidy examines the fireplace, carefully adjusting a piece of kindling with unsteady fingers, "I think it's ready."

"Me too," Caroline says confidently, and again I stifle a laugh because I'm sure they are not entirely understanding of what will make a good fire or not. They are so proud that they have helped though and so proud to be asked their opinion. The love I feel for Andrea at that moment grows impossibly stronger.

"I think you're both a little young to be lighting matches," Andrea reaches for the box of extra long ones that are used for the fire, and hands them one each, "but how about I light one and use it to light yours, and then you can both light the newspaper at the front."

Both of their eyes widen, having not expected to be trusted with such a grown-up task. As I watch, their chests puff out in pride, and a serious expression falls over their faces.

"We can do it," Caroline states seriously, holding out the match that Andrea gave her.

"Ok then, make sure you're holding the matches right at the end so you don't burn your fingers," Andrea instructs them, taking her match and striking it against the box.

She takes care to light the ends of their matches and then watches them both carefully to make sure they are not in any danger, as they gingerly lean forwards and light the newspaper.

"Blow them out now," Andrea shows them how with her own and they copy her, before tossing the sticks into the fire.

"Mom, we did it!" Cassidy exclaims excitedly, seemingly just remembering that I was there with them.

"You certainly did, my little loves, I'm proud of you both," I tell them, accepting them both onto my lap when they cross the room. They are small for their age, but still a little large to be doing this. In a moment of unrestrained affection from them though, I am not going to push them off. I smile at Andrea, and the smile she gives me in return lights up the whole room.

"What do you want to do now?" she asks us all, coming to sit in the armchair next to the sofa, giving us space.

"Can we go out in the snow?" Cassidy asks, staring wistfully out of the window.

"The snow that came down this morning is a little wet, and I'm not sure that either of you has suitable clothes to wear. We could go out after lunch and get you an outfit for tomorrow though, if your Mom doesn't have anything else that she wants to do. The snow will be thicker and dryer tonight if the forecast is to be believed, and I know just the place we can go."

Again Andrea looks at me and I know that she is scared of overstepping where the girls are concerned. I know there are unlikely to be any high-end fashion outlets around here, and I almost cringe out of habit, before I remember that it doesn't matter.

I am no longer the Queen of Runway, and I have to laugh at the irony of Andrea calling her boat 'Runaway Queen'. Maybe it was a premonition of what was to come? However, no one here would care that my children were wearing off the rack outdoor clothing, even if I was recognised. If anything, they would laugh at us if my girls were seen out in the snow, in anything other than the cold weather clothing that is required for this part of the country.

"That sounds perfect, Andrea, and perhaps when we are done shopping you know of somewhere suitable for us all to go out to dinner?"

"How do you feel about Mexican? Or there is a wonderful Thai restaurant too?"

"Either is fine with me," I assure her. I don't have much experience with Mexican, but I have always enjoyed the few dishes I have consumed.

"Mexican!" The girls both decide together, with matching grins. I know it is one of their favourite treats when they are with their father. I suspect that Andrea has remembered this and considered it when offering her choices.

We spend a pleasant morning in the living room, sitting in front of the fire, while Andrea teaches Caroline and Cassidy some of her favourite card games. By the end of their lesson, they are holding their own, and I hope no one ever challenges them to a game, because their poker faces are perfect.

I head off to the kitchen to make sandwiches for us all. Considering we will be eating out tonight I have kept it light. I come back in to see Caroline pleading with Andrea, and I know that Andrea has no chance of denying my daughter when she pulls out her best tricks.

I was right; Caroline manages to convince Andrea to play the guitar for them, and as unable to resist my girls as I am, she agrees. I am not sure what I was expecting, but the haunting beauty of her voice takes me by complete surprise. Never have I listened to someone convey so much emotion with just their voice and a few strummed chords. I am choked up as she sings of love and longing, and I wonder how many times she has sat in this room, singing that song. By the end of her performance, there are tears in her eyes, and Cassidy is throwing her arms around her in an attempt to comfort her.

They then ask her to play some of their favourites and sing along with her rather tunelessly, but it doesn't matter. The sight of the three of them, on the rug in front of the fire, with a guitar and open hearts is endearing, to say the least.

I remind them all of the time, and we stand up, stretching out stiff limbs.

"Ok, go and get yourselves ready," Andrea tells them, shooing them to their rooms.

"You are very good with them," I tell her, winding my arms around her neck as she pulls me closer.

"I love them," she says simply, and really, that's all the answer that she needs to give. Her love for them is evident in every one of their interactions.

She flicks her eyes to the doorway, to make sure we are alone, and then spins us around, so my back is against the wall, as she leans down and kisses me slowly. Her tongue dips out to meet mine, and I hear myself whimper quietly, as my hands find their way into her hair. I release her ponytail, not caring where the elastic has ended up and tangle my fingers through her tresses, revelling in its softness.

"I know we need to talk and discuss our future," she starts, pulling back slightly, "but afterwards I just want to love you all night long."

"I am impatient to be in your bed again, Andrea. I have never felt like this before. This need I have for you, this desire to be so completely yours is so new to me. If it was anyone else then I would be terrified," I admit, closing my eyes, as she kisses my jaw, and then my neck.

She dips her head down further and her tongue drags a hot path across my collar bone. I had no idea until we made this step with each other, that my collar bone was one of the most erogenous parts of my body, and I feel myself begin to tremble in her arms.

"You will always be safe with me, I promise," she murmurs against my skin.

"I know," I reply, and it's true. I feel nothing but safe when I am with her. I trust her with my body and I trust her with my heart. I turn my face to the side, and press my face into her neck in a move that is quickly becoming a habit that will be impossible to break, I suspect.

We stand there for a while, just enjoying the sensation of being in each other's arms until the girls come back from their rooms and we get ready to leave.