I'm looking at my phone, and wondering how it's already Thursday. Thursday. I swear I blinked on Monday evening and now I'm here. And nervous. Because along with a big dinner party—and small drinks—it's also the night we've arranged for Cass to stay over. It's also just a day before the masquerade ball. Also, somehow, I have things prepared. Okay, fine, Kristoff helped a lot with that one, as did Joan. We're all excited about this for different reasons. Cara even accepted our invite, so Joan and Tina can be together, and if she—Tina, I mean—stays the night it's going to be hard to figure out which one of us will be getting up to more mischief.

It's also—and I probably should have started with this—your birthday. Which may help explain how this week has flown past. Because I did visit. I'm stronger now than I was then. I can go alone. It's not about forgetting you, or leaving the past behind me—and something about that behind—anyway, I'm getting distracted. It's about acceptance. Knowing what happened. Being happy for what we had, instead of what I wished for. I also know I've helped some of your dreams come true. Joan is one of them.

Part of me will always wonder what you'd look like now. Older than me, maybe a tiny wrinkle here and there. You were so active—maybe your back would go out more than you. I'm sorry, you know me and jokes. You'd still have been stunningly beautiful. …and I'd probably still be jealous of you for that. I really am distracted this evening. But honestly, can you really—well, actually, you would. You'd call me an idiot, and give me one of those little forehead kisses.

I should really be paying more attention to the cooking. At least Kristoff's here to keep me out of trouble. Mostly. He has noticed how distracted I am—hard not to, really. And especially if he's going to whisper things like that to me right now.

"I thought you were cooking dinner, not roasting your wife."

"Look, princess feistypants, I know how you normally deal with tension," he winks at me. "Plus, keeping them in the lounge room means no one's the wiser."

"Still unfair," I flipped the steaks in the pan, sprinkling on some more seasoning. I sighed. "And accurate."

"Inviting Cass was your idea, as I recall," Kristoff speared a chunk of potato with a fork. He shook his head for my benefit. Not quite done.

I start preparing the next pair of steaks as I talk. "And Cara, and Tina. And Belle and Adam."

"It seems less like a work dinner, and more like inviting everyone you know to try the Reindeer King's famous steakhouse special."

"I don't get any credit for helping here?" I put as much mock-indignation into my voice as possible.

"Well, you are following my recipe…"

I take the steaks in the frying pan out, setting them on a big serving plate, then put the next pair in. The sizzling and the aroma of the seasonings already in the pan is quite satisfying. I turn to Kristoff, smiling. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my awesome cookery."

"Still my recipe," he pats me on the head as he retreats. "I'll tell the others it's nearly ready."

Five minutes later and we're all in the kitchen/dining area. It seems small with so many people. Me, Kristoff, and Joan. Maurice, Belle, and Adam. Cara and Tina. And finally Audrey and Cass. Ten people, sitting around two tables we pushed together, several of them trying hard to keep dinner conversation above board and not tip their hands about later. We manage, keeping it light, mostly about work, holiday plans, Christmas hi-jinks in past years. And of course the truly unforgettable disaster that was Sven and Olaf's attempt at a bonfire barbecue. Which, Maurice reminds me, was over a decade ago.

Was it really that long ago?

It was, of course. I'm not sure if Maurice meant it as a subtle dig about my age, or is just pointing it out because we haven't seen those two in quite some time. Speaking of seeing people and time, I can see the eyes Cass is making at me and Kristoff—trying to be subtle—and the the not-so-innocent looks and whispers between my daughter and her girlfriend. And I do like that Tina's doing some of the teasing, holding her own. Cara catches my eye with a knowing wink. I reply with a subtle shrug and a smile. Somehow Audrey caught only that, and is looking at Joan while Cass explains something to her. It really is the best kind of chaos, trying to keep track of this.

Then, of course, there is dessert. And I know, I know—you were a fine dessert too, but this is Kristoff's baking we're talking about, crumbly shortbreads, thin pastry, finely stewed apples. Or brandy soaked wafers, rolled and crisped just so. Ice-cream, of course. And a sorbet. The one we tried to make all those years ago. Turned into a delicious mess, as I recall. And catching a couple of sidelong glances I should probably pay more attention to what I'm doing, accidentally dribbling some ice-cream down the front of my t-shirt. Given the way Cass is looking at me, I get the feeling she thinks it might be a deliberate tease—but no, I'm just a bit uncoordinated sometimes. I do wish I could take the credit for it though.

"One," Joan holds up a finger and winks at me. Tina gives her a look, so she explains. "Tradition, casual clothes can get up to four food groups on 'em before we gotta change." The wink seals it as Tina tries to recoil.

"Seriously?" She's looking at me.

"It's a running joke, from when she was at elementary school."

Now Tina laughs, and extracts promises about stories at a later date. Nobody else comments about the dribbles on my shirt. I guess it waited until dessert, at least. The number of clothing items I've sent to the laundry as a result of my meals—well, you already know. I mean, it's much better when your wife isn't trying to make you wear dinner because of escalating disasters, but it still happens sometimes. That's all I'm saying.

The rest of dessert?

Well, that's only slightly more risqué conversation. Not that I'm against it, but I'm not entirely sure I want certain things to be so obvious—at least not as obvious as a certain pair think they're not being. But I can't pass judgement, because I think at least one, maybe two of the others at the table have picked up at Cass being not quite subtle enough. One of those people is Cara, who just shakes her head while smiling at me—not the reaction I expected. Belle—clued in by Adam, I think—seems a little confused, and then I think I can sense a sort of quiet disapproval. That stings, but she's still young—and I realise I'm still trying to justify it despite already having the approval of the two people that matter.


Lying here, tangled in six layers of blankets, hugging and being hugged by two very warm, slightly sweaty people, I wonder how the hell I managed to keep a straight face during dinner. Or most of the day, for that matter. But I'll be honest—the anticipation helped. Maybe not Kristoff, but certainly me. It reminded me how much I like being touched. Even—especially—by another woman that knows what to do. Even now, I can feel Cass's fingertips slowly caressing me. She's touching Kristoff too, our hands linked as I guide her around his body, the strength and the warmth. Just lying here is enough.

I know I'm slowly drifting off, and Cass seems to want more of me, so I just rest my forehead against hers, giving her a gentle kiss. "I'm tired."

"I'm not—" her yawn betrays her "not that tired. Yet."

"And I'm an old lady," there's chuckling from behind me. "You have to be gentle. Or you could play with the package part of the package deal again."

Both of them laughed at that one.

"Or we could just sleep, and cuddle, and maybe things happen when we wake up…"

"Well maybe I could be the middle spoon?" I can feel her fingers against my shoulder—and other places. "Because you're hogging all the blankets."

…busted.

"The alliance for blanket liberation!" Kristoff whisper-shouts as he pulls Cass on top of me.

"On second thought…" I pretend to snuggle under Cass—she's still very warm. "I like this blanket better." Her fingers didn't move much, but I know she's teasing me. I move just a little bit under her.

"Still tired?" She gives me a sultry grin.

"Yes," I kiss her nose. "I might even fall asleep."

Her fingers are moving again, and this time I can feel a much bigger, slightly rougher hand join hers. I'm not going to complain, but it is getting hard to concentrate—or stay awake. I hope they're not disappointed with me. Or maybe they might have been impressed they knocked me out like that. All I remember is the heat fading to a soft warmth, and a glow I've missed for… I honestly don't know how long. It felt like what we had, sometimes. The care, the attention—that secret well of passion. My dreams are of you, but maybe you have her body, or she has yours, and we're just… together. Kristoff's there too, hugging us, content to drift into the background. I see what might have been, and what never was. It fades as I wake, earlier than usual, but warm, my arms around a soft, powerful body. Her arms are around me too.

"You did fall asleep," she's trying to hide a laugh.

"You can laugh if you want," I smile at her, trying to point admonishingly. My finger winds up level with her chest. "I warned you."

She takes my hand and clasps it against her breast. "You're awake now."

"And I really have to pee," I wriggle my way out from under the covers and pad softly towards the ensuite.

"Really…?"

I whisper back from the door. "Yes."

On my way back I can see all our clothes from last night. We made a mess. We enjoyed making that mess. It's also too cold to be standing here naked so I slide back into bed. This afternoon might be a bit crazy with prep for the annual masquerade ball, but we can enjoy the morning. It's not like any of us have anywhere else to be. Like I've said before, sleeping with the boss has certain perks. We're all awake now anyway—me climbing back into bed was enough to wake Kristoff.

Lying here with Cass, our hands slowly exploring, I find something odd about myself. I like the intimacy with her—how physical she is—and how close she is. There's no spark of love, just lust. And I'm okay with that. I hope she is too.

"Hope I'm what?"

Well, apparently my brain still does that. "Okay with this just being physical."

"It's not love," she rested her forehead against mine, tracing a pattern around my stomach with one hand. "But I do like the affection. Like how close you and Kris are." She gives me a little kiss. "I might be a little jealous."

"Of us?" The little laugh is hard to hide.

"I mean yeah, a little. You two have been married how long, and you're still together?"

"Because we understand each other Cassie," Kristoff places a hand against her shoulder, over the covers. "I'm going to make some breakfast for us."

"You're not staying?" Cass seems a little confused.

"From the looks on your faces, I don't need to," he gives me a knowing wink. "And anyway, I need a bit longer to, uhh, recharge, these days."

"Tonight," I give him our special smile. He nods, then finishes getting dressed.

"What's that about?" Cass is eyeing me suspiciously.

"Our night life."

"From last night I'd say it's pretty healthy."

"Oh, very," I pull her dangerously close, holding her tight to me. "I could tell you more, or we could finish this…"

"How can you be this unfair?"

I can't help the smile. "I learned from the best."

Later, still lying in bed, I think about those words. I did, I really did. I remember those times, later in our relationship. You were still so good at deflecting. But I was also stubborn and insistent. Sometimes I hated myself for it, for finding out what was really bothering you. Sometimes you loved me for it, for being able to push you just far enough. We were honest, and it helped so, so much later. It took me far too long to realise that because of that honesty, you didn't take any secrets with you. I could love everything you were, without reservation. You did the same for me.

It was the greatest gift you ever gave me, and the one thing I still miss after all these years. I've tried to fill my life with love, to give my love to those that need it. I'm trying to better than both of us were. I hope I'm succeeding.