Chapter Fifty

Maeve

I never want to stop kissing them, but I know I have to. The car horns beeping behind me, the indistinct chatter of other travellers and the whirring of their suitcases around us are all reminders that we are on borrowed time. I have a plane to catch. I have to say goodbye to Loncey.

I pull back, feeling like I'm dragging my body that short, short distance through treacle.

"I should go," I tell them.

"I know, but one more thing," they say and their hands at my waist hold me firmly. "I got you an upgrade."

"A what?"

"Your ticket. You're flying home Business Class."

"Really?"

"I thought it would make the journey a little better," they say and bring me back into their embrace. "I hope that's okay."

I nearly tell them that the only thing that will make this journey better is if they're sat on the seat next to me, but I don't. It's not fair. It's not fair to put that kind of pressure on them and it's not fair for me to even think about what that possibility would look like. That feels like a surefire way to torture myself.

Instead, I nod and brave a small smile.

"I'll see you soon. Less than six weeks," Loncey reminds me. "It will fly by. And you have Patience to get to know and cuddle and enjoy."

"I do," I agree and it's the only part of their statement that I can agree with because I highly, highly doubt the time is going to fly by. I can almost feel how stubbornly and unpleasantly it's going to drag out.

"And we'll speak every day."

"Every day," I repeat because I don't feel like I have any more of my own words. I bury my face in their T-shirt and inhale their woodsy, sweet smell.

"Will you promise me one thing, Maeve?"

I lean back and look up at them. "What?"

"Keep dancing," they say. "You have a real talent for it, but more than that, I can see how much you enjoy it, and you deserve to do things that you enjoy."

"Then you have to make me the same promise," I say. "You have to keep painting. And driving out to the desert. And wearing the clothes you actually want to wear."

I add the last request tentatively, unsure how it will be received. But Loncey doesn't flinch, doesn't do anything but smile slowly and broadly.

"Okay," they say, and they kiss the tip of my nose as if to seal their promise.

"I should go," I repeat but like before, I don't move.

Loncey wraps me up in their arms again and there's something so strong, so affirming, so comforting in their tight, tight hold that it breaks the final barrier I'd built to stop my tears from tumbling free. I cry into their T-shirt until I'm hiccupping, and I feel Loncey chuckle lightly as my body jolts. They squeeze me closer to them and I hope they'll forgive me for the marks my tears and snot will leave behind.

I don't know how long I stay like that crying – and hiccupping – in their embrace but I know it's too long. I really do have a flight to catch.

"Go home to your family, Maeve," Loncey whispers in my ear. "They can't wait to see you."

I soak up the limited comfort their words give me and I finally, finally pull back far enough that I can't be tempted to simply crash back into their arms. Reaching for my suitcase with one hand, I roughly wipe my cheeks and nose with the back of my other.

"I bet I look like a fecking mess," I tell them.

"You never look a mess," they tell me. "Apart from this one time when you were waiting for an elevator in a Las Vegas hotel…"

They're teasing me and I don't know how they're keeping it together so well. I believe their heart is breaking too at the prospect of six weeks of distance, and yet they're somehow strong enough to keep smiling and keep telling jokes.

"I fucking love you," I say before inhaling deeply, readying myself to use that breath to walk away.

"I fucking love you too," they echo and I see it then, a single tear emerging from their right eye and slipping down their cheek.

"Goodbye, Loncey," I say.

"Goodbye, Maeve," they echo.

And then I move my body through more treacle as I walk my heavy heart away from them.

*****

Once settled on the plane in a very comfortable Business Class window seat, I decide that I just need a year. I just need a year to get to know my niece, to be confident that she knows me well enough that when I pop up on Marty's phone screen or when I return for visits she won't be oblivious to who I am. During that year, I'll do what I can to research getting a visa to live and work in the States. I'll spend those twelve months wisely, making sure everything is set up so once my year is over, and then Loncey and I can be together properly, for good.

I let myself indulge this fantasy. I imagine us living in his little cabin at first, close to their mum, Jessica and Taylor and Prince. Eventually we will get our own place. Maybe a house in the same neighbourhood as their family. I liked it there. It was close to the city but still quiet. Friendly neighbours and a safe area. My parents would enjoy visiting us there. Marty, Jenna and little Patience too. Or maybe one day, we'll move somewhere else. Maybe LA. or San Diego, but nowhere too far from Las Vegas. I understand deeply Loncey's need to be close to their family. I would never want to change that about them.

I understand it because I feel it too, but perhaps the difference between Loncey and I is that I have never felt this before, this pull to a person, this love. I never expected to feel it. I never thought it was possible. And now I've found it, I don't want to live without it. I don't want to be drip-fed this love or have it diluted by the distance. I want to bathe in it. I want to indulge in it. And I want to nurture it, to be present in it and ensure it grows and grows and grows.

That's not to say that Loncey is my only chance at love. I actually don't believe that anymore, if maybe I did at first. I am slowly starting to know in a visceral way that I am worthy and capable of finding love in this lifetime and that Loncey is far from the only person who could feel it for me too. It's the most ironic thing that Loncey has taught me this. But I don't want anyone else to fall for me. I don't want to find love with another person. I want Loncey. I love Loncey.

So I will do whatever it takes to be with them, really be with them.

This new determination mixes with my bone-deep devastation in a weird, confronting way. It has more tears flowing down my face but it also has me reaching for my phone and starting my research immediately.

"Crying like a typical Cancer," a voice says. A voice I know well. I twist my head to the side.

"What's got you all upset?" Loncey stands next to the empty chair next to me. They have a backpack over their shoulder and a crooked smile on their lips.

They're also wearing one of their camisole tops, a black silk one that catches the plane's artificial light.

"I…" I give myself a few seconds, just to try and catch my breath. I barely manage it but it's enough to keep talking while I plaster a smile on my face. "I was just thinking about the person I'm in love with and how I don't want to leave them."

"Good job you don't have to then." They look down at the boarding pass they're holding in one hand. "This is my seat."

"What… what the fuck are you doing?" I ask. I have a good idea what is going on but I feel like it could be an illusion or maybe my fantasising about us being together has reached a delusional level.

"I'm flying to Dublin." They stash their backpack in the overhead compartment and then sit down. "With you."

"You're coming back with me? For how long? A week? Two?" I ask, full of hope.

They shrug off their corduroy jacket so I can see the lace straps of their camisole kiss their collarbones. "No, Maeve. Not for a week."

"Oh."

"Forever, Maeve."

"For what?" My mouth falls open.

"Actually, technically, I can only stay for three months, but I will start looking at visas the moment we land. And I want to spend every moment of those three months with you. I want to show you just how committed I am to you. I have no clue what we'll have to do so I can stay with you permanently, but whatever it is, I'll try and do it. Heck, I'll even marry your ass if I have to."

I scoff, loudly and Loncey laughs. "Yeah, I thought you'd react like that. But seriously, Maeve," they look up over the top of the seats in front of us, "if you don't want me to go all in like this, you need to tell me. They haven't closed the front door yet, and I'll save a fortune in parking if I leave now."

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the angel Gabriel, you haven't left your car at the airport, have you?"

"No, Taylor's picking it up." They smile. "And you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Do you want me to do this? Come live with you in Dublin?"

I'm crying again, but these tears feel lighter, warmer.

"It's all I fucking want."

"It's all I fucking want too," they say, and yet again they try to mimic my accent and it sounds so ridiculous, I burst into laughter that shakes my body, but I'm not alone in these shakes for long because Loncey's arm stretches out and pulls me close to them. The arm rest between us digs into my stomach but I don't care. I just have to be close to them. I have to feel their warmth. I have to inhale their smoked candyfloss smell. I have to have their hands on my body, because I trust their hands on my body. I want their lips on my skin, because I know that that's enough for them. No, it's more than enough. It's everything, for them and for me.

"I love you." The words spill out of my mouth and land somewhere in their locs. They sound so much more fragile than how they really feel, because they feel like they're made of diamonds, strong and beautiful and dazzling.

"Fuck, I love you too," Loncey says on an exhale and I feel their whole body sink a little, as if saying that came with great relief.

I pull back just as the seatbelt sign goes on with a little bing. We smile at each other as we secure our seatbelts and I still can't believe they're here sitting next to me. I have so many questions to ask them. I want to know how and when and why they came to this decision. I want to know what they said to their mother and their sister. I want to know how they managed to get a seat on this flight so quickly, and fuck, was that why I got the upgrade?

But more than all these questions that bounce around my mind, I have to know something else much more urgently.

"So now I need to know," I say as I find their hand and hold it in both of mine. "Are we compatible? Me with my Cancer sun, Gemini moon and Pisces rising? And you with your Scorpio sun, Aries moon and Taurus rising."

They squeeze my hand and lean closer over their arm rest.

"First of all, I don't care. I don't care what the stars in the sky have to say about us. I care about the stars in your eyes. The galaxy of kindness in your heart. The safe, warm and beautiful universe that is your body to me. I care about what you can teach me about life, not what ancient balls of gas could possibly represent."

I'm silenced by their words, completely bowled over by the love in them, and the love in their deep brown eyes that are fixed on me. And yet my sassiness, as Loncey likes to call it, has me responding.

"Cute, but you didn't answer my question."

Loncey gives me a small pout. "Well, as it happens, yes we are compatible. Two Water Sun signs are always a winning combination. Our Moon signs are very compatible too. Aries and Geminis typically share good connections, good conversations and the right kind of challenging encouragement. And our rising signs, well, Pisces and Taurus aren't exactly a match made in heaven, but they both value love and trust and their differences have the potential to work well together. I mean, I think we have proven that opposites can very much attract."

"And you've known this since when?"

"Since that video you did about getting your birth chart." They level an assured smile on me.

I use our joined hands to swipe at their chest. "And why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have called it ‘a load of bollocks' and told me to ‘feck off'," they say, raising their eyebrows accusingly.

"Well, you can feck off!" I squeeze their hand again. "Although I have to say, your Irish accent is getting better."

"Just wait until I've lived there for years and years. They won't be able to tell me apart from the locals."

It feels like a rubber band is tied around my heart one too many times when I hear them say "years and years."

"But Jess…"

"She's happy for us," they say. "A little too happy, if I'm honest. She said something about her getting her HEA and that it was time for us to have ours. She told me you'd know what she meant by that because I'm clueless."

My smile is a wild, unstoppable thing. "I know what she means."

"To be honest, I think she's been trying to get rid of me for a long time. We talked yesterday morning when you slept in before I did her physio with her. And she made me call Mom and tell her so that I wouldn't back down. They're both happy for us."

"You know in a year or two, we could move back to Vegas, or somewhere in the States, if you wanted. I know time with Jessica and your mum is important to you."

They lean back in their seat and stare straight ahead. "It is. It always will be, which is why I'll go home regularly, and I hope you'll come too."

"Of course," I say.

"But it's more important to me that I live the life I'm supposed to live. A full life. A life full of love."

"A life full of love. Doesn't sound so shabby." I lean back in my chair too.

"I promise it won't be." Loncey leans towards me. "Although I've got to be honest, I'm dreading the weather in Dublin."

"Yeah, it's not great. You may actually have to wear a top most days," I tease.

They lean in a little closer. "As long as you give me access to your wardrobe, I don't mind."

"What's mine is yours," I quip before reaching over and pecking them on the cheek, the forehead, the tip of their nose. "I still can't believe you're here," I say with my face only inches from theirs. "I can't believe you want to do this, be with me, even though being with me is not going to be like, like how it is with other people. Are you really sure—"

I'm silenced when Loncey's other hand comes to wrap around my forearm and their grip is strong. "Don't," they say in a clipped voice. "Don't finish that sentence. Ever. That's the only thing I'll ask of you as a condition of my coming to Dublin. You must never, ever doubt my love for you. You must never think you're not enough. You must never be worried that I'm not satisfied or fulfilled when I'm with you, because, fuck, Maeve…" They exhale and press their forehead to mine. I look down and watch their lips move as they continue to speak. "Yours is the biggest, brightest, most satisfying love of all. Your love is a supernova. Your love is everything to me, so do you promise me you'll never ask me that question again?"

I'm forced to swallow. Swallow down all my doubts, all my fears, all my worries. I'm not burying them. I know I still have to deal with many of them in time, but I'm pushing them to the side, to a place where they won't grow or expand, but simply exist in the shadow of something taller and wider. My faith in Loncey. Because I believe them. I really believe in them.

And more than that, I believe in myself.

"I promise," I say, and I'm not just making a promise to them. I'm also extending one to myself.

"Good girl," they say before taking my lips with theirs and I don't fight the blush that comes to my cheeks. We kiss for the longest time, my hand on their face and their grip still on my arm, their thumb gently stroking my skin.

Finally, the rough noise of a throat clearing pulls us apart.

"Champagne?" A flight attendant asks, showing us a tray of drinks.

"I think we should," Loncey says.

"It would be rude not to," I add.

And we each take a glass. We chime our glasses together.

"To us," they say.

"To our supernova love," I add.

"That was written in the stars," they say before taking a sip.

"Or painted in them," I say and with our eyes locked on each other, we drink to our future together.