Tilly
Repairing something you’d broken, accidentally or not, took a lot of time. Especially if you realised that, as you started to fix it, there were other little holes—other tears and slip-ups that your actions had caused without you noticing, too focused were you on the big, visible mistake.
To catch those small things, you start mending slowly. Carefully. You take your time, so if you have to go back to fix something you missed, it’s a simple movement—not an entire restart.
Tilly was repairing over ten years of habits. She didn’t want to think of them as mistakes—she was who she was, and leaving was something she either had to do, or felt she’d had to do.
But now, she did need to show Evie she was serious.
So, she started slowly. She started with what she normally did when she got back from running off.
Tilly went back to her routine at the café. She worked from home on some big projects for a long-term client. She worked from Evie’s, even though her own flat had a comfortable desk to work at. But still, she sat on Evie’s couch, legs pulled up and crossed, laptop balanced on her knees. Evie would be doing her own thing on her laptop, working from home or scrolling through pregnancy forums, wasting time. She spent January baking hot and often went to the beach, letting the ocean run over her toes. She had dinner at Evie’s, Sean over too as they cooked and ate out in the little backyard. Sometimes Cal came with Sean and they all sat outside until the mosquitoes drove them inside, their skin sticky from the heat and insect spray.
Tilly and Evie eased back into a routine, and ignored little things that had changed. They touched less. They didn’t press as close if they watched a movie. Tilly occasionally stayed over, but would stay in the spare room, which still looked the same. They didn’t share a bed. Or breathing space, when squashed together watching a show.
It was probably for the best.
She itched to bring up Evie’s dad, more gently this time—even if only to ask how Evie was doing. But she’d burnt that chance, and if Evie wanted to talk about it, she would bring it up. Tilly didn’t want to unbalance the fragile peace they’d reached.
Was this how Evie had always felt, wanting to ask questions but restraining herself from crossing that line?
How did she do it?
One night, Tilly went out on a date with someone she met on a dating app. It was nice. Fun. The person was glib, which Tilly loved. They were funny and kind and Tilly didn’t see them again.
Because she knew what she wanted now, and once you’d really accepted that, second best didn’t cut it. And it wasn’t fair to anyone else, when her heart was set on Evie and the way Evie could make it race.
But more than how she made it race, it was how Evie made it slow. How they could be calm and easy together.
That kiss had ruined them, because now Tilly wanted more.
But instead she focused on being there as a friend, and not trying the dating thing.
Evie was well past six months pregnant and had turned down finding out the sex of the baby, but they all knew that everything was healthy and progressing as it should.
For her part, Evie slowly relaxed throughout January. There was an easing in her shoulders. An acceptance of everything that was happening. An acceptance, maybe, that Tilly wasn’t leaving.
That was too much to hope for, given that it would probably take a very long time for Tilly to properly show Evie she wouldn’t take off and leave.
Tilly would wait.
She looked at jobs online. Permanent ones. Ones with great projects, dynamic staff, room for growth. She set an alert on her phone so any new ones in her field popped up, based in Perth, looking for long-term staff. Her fingers hovered over apply buttons before she’d shut her laptop, or close her phone off, biting her lip. She did send a few emails of interest, though, following up some adverts with enquiries, her heart thudding away.
Setting up permanence when you’d avoided that for so long was a daunting task.
So she did it slowly.
“That smells—” Evie called out as she walked in “—amazing!”
“I made lasagne.”
There was the sound of a bag being dumped on the floor, and Evie was in the kitchen, grinning. “You did not?”
“I did.”
“Oh, wow.” She moved up to where Tilly was sprinkling on the last cheese layer. “You really did. Look at it. It’s a thing of beauty.”
“It’s lasagne, Eves.”
She bent over, the little she could comfortably, so she was almost eye-to-eye with it. “It’s decadence and perfection in a glass dish. No mortal can make it.”
“It’s really not that hard.” Tilly smirked as she slipped the lasagne into the oven, with Evie opening and closing the door for her. “I think you see cooking as this impossible thing.”
“It is.”
“It’s really not. I’ll teach you.”
Evie’s pout was instant. “But I’m just so…busy.” Tilly crossed her arms, and Evie moved to the sink to start washing up the things Tilly had used to put the lasagne together, smirking to herself. “And the—the baby brain. It’s impossible.”
Rolling her eyes, Tilly started cleaning up. “Okay, Miss Baby Brain. It’s impossible.”
Evie grinned. “Exactly.” Evie blew soap suds at her and Tilly ducked far more than was necessary considering they went an inch into the air and drifted down. “How was your meeting with the new client?”
“Good.” Tilly shrugged. “She’s a bit eccentric, but wants someone local and she liked my portfolio. Plus she paid for lunch.”
“Always a win.”
“Exactly. So project’s mine, which is great. If she likes what we do, she’ll keep me on.”
“And she wants someone local? Like, permanently around?” Evie was diligently not looking at her, scrubbing at the chopping board with a sponge to try and get off the stain of chopped tomatoes.
Tilly focused on adjusting the temperature on the oven, checking the timer. “Yeah. She likes to have meetings in person and such. It’s not necessary for the job, but some clients prefer it.”
“And you took it?”
Tilly couldn’t really stare at the oven anymore, so she turned around, hands pushed deep in her pockets. “I did.”
Evie glanced over her shoulder, hair escaping from her ponytail, clinging to her cheeks. “Oh.” Just that oh, and a soft smile. And she turned back, finishing up with the chopping board. “I’m going to have a shower before dinner.”
“No worries.”
The shower started up right as Tilly’s phone rang. “Well, hello, Seanie.”
“What’re you doing, I’m bored and in the city and I remember you said you had a meeting with a client here tonight.”
“Aw, and you wanted to hang? Sorry though, meeting got moved to this afternoon so I’m not in the city anymore.”
“Oh, boo.”
“Any news on The Fridge Poacher?”
He sighed. “None. Gone quiet over the holidays. Maybe too full still from all the food. I’ll keep you updated. Colin is still sure it’s Erica. But then she looked so sad when she said her gourmet yoghurt was gone the week before Christmas. She could just be a good actor, though.”
“A good actor who’s terrible at hiding obvious clues of her thievery?”
“You never know. So where are you?” She could hear his grin over the phone. “Evie’s?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I made lasagne. She’s pregnant and needs fuel.”
“You know you have your own flat.” Could you hear a smirk? Tilly could swear you were able to.
“I sleep there every night.” The heat radiating from the oven was too much, so Tilly took a few steps back and lifted her hair up off the back of her neck.
“Yeah, and that’s all you do there. Anyway, how was the meeting?”
He was a butthead, was what he was. “It went well, she hired me.”
“Dress up and make a good impression?”
“But of course.”
“You wore the pants, right?”
She raised her eyebrows even though he couldn’t see her. “The pants?”
“Yeah, the ones that make your ass look good but are super chic and professional.”
“I mean I changed straight after, it was too hot. But uh, yeah, I guess? I wore those ones?”
“Yeah. Those. Good. Evie always stares at your ass in those.”
“I—what?” Tilly almost dropped her phone. “What?”
“Gotta run, Cal’s calling!”
“Evie what? Sean?”
But the bastard had hung up.
Down the hallway, the shower shut off.
Somehow, Tilly’s cheeks burned even more than they had in the heat of the oven.
Later, full and sleepy, Netflix played and Evie was slumped on the couch, chin almost on her chest even though she kept insisting it was too early for bed every time Tilly suggested she head back home.
Tilly’s phone rang, shrill and insistent, and Evie jumped a mile high, eyes looking wildly around and narrowing at Tilly’s laugh. Tilly grabbed it, wondering if it was one of her housemates, checking if she’d be home late and wanted leftovers. She glanced at the screen and bit her lip. It wasn’t her housemate.
“Mum?”