Coming back to the condo was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Seeing all the things still in place as if nothing had happened. Claire had moved in with Martin and taken all her belongings and personal effects, but she’d left the vast majority of things such as her towels.

The pictures from the holiday on which we got engaged were still scattered all over the place as if to salt the wounds. Olivia and Opal helped me find a new place; it was a fairly large house only a short drive from Opal’s place, which suited me perfectly.

I sold the condo, along with most of the furniture. The only time I saw or heard from Claire was when she came to collect the last few bits and pieces she’d left in our old home. I didn’t see her; Olivia passed her the boxes without so much as letting her through the gate.

My physical therapy had helped a lot in the last months, and now I only needed a single crutch to get about. There were good days and bad days, of course, but Opal made them both better.

The day I moved into my new home, I found her at my doorstep with a homemade cake and groceries. She was smiling, and, to my great pleasure, she was wearing a light blue sundress that made her look even more feminine than she already was. She looked around the house and smiled.

“It needs some personal touches, but it’s a pretty nice place,” she informed me as she walked into my kitchen and unpacked the groceries. She put the kettle on and made some hot tea. I watched her around my kitchen; it was good to see her so comfortable in my home. She cut some cake for us, and we sat down to enjoy a hot drink and sweet snack.

“What kind of personal touches were you thinking of?” I asked her as I watched her pour the tea into those small cups she loved so much.

She thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. Some paintings or posters or maybe a lick of paint here and there…” she explained, lost in thought.

I smiled, thinking that maybe she wasn't the only one to blame for the distance that had been built between us. I’d never tried to get close to her; I'd half-heartedly done it, thinking, like her, that it was as good as incest if we did get together, even if we weren't blood-related.

Opal had picked most of the furniture and fittings for my new house. I liked her taste, and she’d made these rooms feel like home. I leaned over and kissed her. She tasted of tea and frosting and smelled of clean cotton, herbal lotion, and the faint perfume she always wore. I was never entirely sure what it smelled like, other than that I liked it and it was some flower. As I pulled back, she smiled at me.

“You just love bossing me around, don’t you?” I teased her. She rolled her eyes playfully at me and licked some frosting off of her finger in a way that made heat run through me.

“No… I just know that if it were up to you, you’d have a couch and TV in the living room and a mattress on the floor in the bedroom.”

“You make me sound like I have no class at all,” I tried defending myself, but she only laughed and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her.

“I think we should christen the bed I picked for you,” she said purred as I pulled her into my arms. A quick kiss turned into a deep one, and we swiftly moved onto the bedroom.

Opal led the way, and I hobbled after her on my crutch in an undignified manner. It wasn’t the first time we’d made love since I left the hospital, but it was the most memorable. We didn’t stop at the bedroom.

Since then, Opal had been spending more and more time at my house. About a month after I moved in, we sat in my living room talking about everything and nothing, and the conversation drifted to our teenage years. As we talked, Opal stood up.

“I completely forgot!” she exclaimed as she rushed into the hallway. “I went to our old house and ransacked the attic,” she shouted from the hallway.

I peeked curiously, but couldn’t see much. She returned with a large bag that I’d noticed her bringing in earlier, but had completely forgotten to ask about its contents. Often Opal would bring some of her clothes or personal items if she was staying the night. She dropped the bag next to the couch and began to retrieve something from it.

I couldn’t help but smile as I recognized the items. These were our old family albums that both my mom and Olivia kept almost religiously. They documented every little thing since we were babies. It used to infuriate both of us, but now I was grateful for their obsession, and by the look on her face, so was Opal.

She sat down on the couch next to me and set the thick albums in a pile next to us. We flicked through them.

“Look, that’s the day we found out that you’re a wasp magnet,” I pointed out as I looked at a picture of myself and Opal popping our heads out of a treehouse our family friend had built for us. We must have been about seven or eight.

She rolled her eyes at me and flicked past the photograph, then burst out laughing. This was a picture of me, age about eleven, holding a teddy bear that was roughly my size, and glaring at the camera.

“Hey, Mr. Raggy was awesome!” I defended my childhood toy. She grinned at me and nodded.

“Oh yes, I remember the damn thing still being in our living room over ten years later, staring at me at every spring break," she laughed.

The next album started on Opal’s thirteenth birthday. The very first picture captured perfectly her shoving a frosted cream cupcake in my face for pulling her hair too hard. As we delved deeper into the photo albums, we talked about the time we’d spent together as children and teenager.

“Do you remember our prom night?” she asked me as she pointed at pictures from that night, and I couldn’t help but groan.

“How could I ever forget…” I sighed as I glared at the photographs.

Opal laughed. “It wasn’t all that bad…” she told me, but I just shook my head.

“You weren’t the one with a creepy stalker,” I noted.

She nodded in agreement.

Courtney, the girl I’d ended up going to prom with, had followed me around since the beginning of the year. I couldn’t swing a cat without bumping into her.

“In all fairness, if it weren't for her, you’d have ended up with no date,” she told me after a moment, but that only made me sigh more.

“You know, I’m still pretty sure Courtney had something to do with Melissa changing her mind at the last minute,” I stated.

Opal nodded, deep in thought. “I really wouldn’t put it past her… I remember how disgruntled you were, though,” she added with a laugh.

I nodded; I’d had a crush on Melissa for ages before the prom. I glanced at Opal as she fixed her gaze on the picture of her and her date. I gave her my best teasing smile.

“Hey, didn’t you end up with Mopey Moe?” I pointed out; it was her turn to groan.

“His name was Scott, and he was a nice guy,” she told me.

I grinned again. “He spent hours complaining about anything you could imagine,” I reminded her.

She just shrugged. “Not when he was around me. Scott had his issues, but he was kind and sweet,” she informed me.

Part of me was somewhat jealous over Scott and their great prom night, but a bigger part of me admired Opal’s ability to see the best in people. Ever since school, she’d always found something nice to say about everyone and supported people, regardless of who they were. It was one of the traits I’d always admired. I’d often found myself thinking about things I admired about Opal, and there were a lot of them.

As we sat there discussing our teenage endeavors, inevitably we reached the point I was somewhat apprehensive about in our conversation. The last summer camp we went to together. While I had fond memories of those two weeks, I knew that the aftermath changed our lives for years. I feared that Opal might have been holding a grudge that would taint the memory.

“Holy crap!”

She laughed as she looked at the photo of the two of us on the first day camp. “How did our moms even get hold of these?” she added in astonishment.

I peered over her shoulder and couldn’t help but laugh myself. Both Olivia and my late mom had an innate talent for getting people to cough up any pictures of me, Opal, or both of us.

Looking at those pictures now, I realized how close and intimate we had been back then. First of the pictures was one of me sprawled out on the couch in one of the cabins with my head on Opal’s lap. I cringed.

“What the hell is that on my face?” I asked.

She laughed again and looked at me, resting her chin on her hand. “You referred to it as a beard and, if I remember correctly, Corey set it on fire a couple of days later, and you had to shave it off. You complained for the rest of the holiday,” she told me with amusement.

I crossed my arms across my chest. “It was a beard, and I was quite attached to it!” I tried defending myself, but even I had to admit that the patchy bits of hair on my chin were more of a bunch of random sprouts than anything that could be confidently referred to as facial hair.

Opal lightly elbowed me in the ribs and flipped to another photo, this one of a few other boys and me surrounding a large grill with highly focused looks on our faces In the background you could see the girls smiling at us with somewhat patronizing expressions on their faces.

“Isn’t that from the time we had a barbecue?” I pointed out.

Opal sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you insisted the boys could handle it, and we watched you struggle for about two hours before Kelly and I took over.” She laughed.

I wanted to defend our masculinity, but I knew there was very little I could say at that point. If it weren’t for the girls that night, we would have all gone to bed hungry.

Without realizing it, Opal and I were now closely cuddled up on the couch. We talked about the pictures for a bit longer, but neither of us mentioned the last night of that summer camp until a few weeks later.

* * *

We were lying in bed after a passionate encounter. Opal rested her head on my chest, idly stroking my skin. Without any introduction, she looked up at me with a soft smile.

“You know, it’s funny how you still take my breath away each time,” she murmured.

I was feeling rather blissful and was starting to drift off. I opened one eye to look down at her. “Funny?” I asked in mild confusion.

She smiled brightly and nodded. “Do you remember our first time?” she asked.

I blinked a few times. Of course, I remembered it; I remembered every detail of it as if it were yesterday. Blissful tiredness disappeared as I felt my body tense.

“How could I ever forget?” I asked her cautiously, feeling slightly hurt that the thought of me forgetting something that important had ever crossed her mind.

She adjusted herself on the bed and smiled, setting me at ease. “I remember how scared I was…you made me feel so assured and safe,” she whispered.

I smiled a little bit. “If it’s any consolation, I was probably as freaked out as you were. I had no idea what I was doing with the kiss, let alone other things.” I laughed.

She began to play with my hair. “Was it your first time?” she asked slowly as she appeared to ponder something.

I glanced down at her. “Yes, why would I lie about that?” I asked, a bit hurt at what felt like an accusation.

She shook her head. “I’ve slept with a virgin or two since then, and you were better than the more experienced partners I had.”

That sentence stung a bit, but I knew I couldn’t hold it against her. It would’ve been silly of me to expect her to keep herself away from other men for all those years. Instead, I took the compliment.

She thought about it for a moment. “Other than she-who-must-not-be-named, have you had other partners?” she asked me.

I bit my lip nervously. The truth was, I’d burned through quite a few girlfriends and casual encounters in college. I nodded sheepishly. “A few,” I replied, not wanting to go into details.

Slight hurt flashed in her eyes, but she recovered swiftly and smiled at me. “Understandable. We were both free and single for a while,” she said softly.

We moved on from the subject and focused on our memories of that first intimate night together. We talked about how good it felt and how much we’d enjoyed exploring our bodies. Somehow, all the hurt that had followed didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

* * *

Olivia and Opal decided to celebrate when I was finally discharged from physical therapy four months later. I appreciated it, but I wasn’t in a party mood. Though I was a lot more stable and confident on my feet, I still required a crutch and struggled with day-to-day tasks.

Opal would come over most nights, and stayed over quite a few of them, often helping me keep the house in good condition. She even insisted on the necessity of adopting a cat, claiming that I needed some company, since I still spent most of my time at home thanking the higher power for the fact that my savings were more than comfortable.

Perks of being a stockbroker. The kitten from the shelter watched Opal and me as I complained about her idea of making me wear a suit. I never liked formal clothing; it was one of the things I’d hated about working on Wall Street.

“Ethan, stop complaining, you look amazing,” she reassured me as she adjusted my tie.

I glared at her. “It’s itchy. And restrictive, and smells like I don’t know what.” I voiced my complaints, but she only laughed.

“It smells exactly like the inside of your closet, stop moaning and stay still so I can adjust your tie properly. You want to look smart, don’t you?” She sounded fucking irritated, and I hated when she did that, it always managed to rub me the wrong way.

“I want to look comfortable, not like someone who feels like his trousers are trying to saw him in half and his tie is trying to strangle him,” I told her, demonstratively raising the pitch of my voice.

She rolled her eyes at me, but loosened the tie a bit. “Ethan. We are going for a nice meal, in an elegant restaurant, with my mom. I would like you to look presentable. And not complain about your freaking wedgie,” she muttered, clearly trying to sound irritated and failing miserably.

I tied my hair up and turned to look at her properly. Before I could say anything else, she let out an exasperated breath.

“Ethan Stone, do not tie your hair up!” she said in a parental tone that instantly made me flinch. She would only use my full name and that voice if she was annoyed, so I instinctively tensed, slightly nervous and a little confused.

“Huh?” I asked, most likely sounding even stupider than I felt in that suit.

Her facial expression softened as she gently wrapped her arms around my waist. “I prefer it when it’s down, makes you look so much sexier,” she purred into my ear.

At that point, I was ready to dress up like a chicken and parade around Wall Street singing nursery rhymes at the top of my lungs just to make her happy.

I relaxed and looked at her for a moment. She was wearing a deep red evening dress that emphasized her curves and made her skin look even smoother; her hair was tied up in a way she called “half up”, which I found irresistible.

She put on makeup which looked nothing like the war paint most women wore. It was soft and subtle, but made her features stand out a bit more. She took my breath away as I inhaled the feminine scent of her. I stopped complaining about my suit and proceeded to at least attempt to make my way to the cab in a graceful manner.

I did not want to look like a complete twit next to a woman that looked so exquisite. We arrived at the restaurant a bit early and settled at our table. Opal and I chatted about anything and everything while waiting for Olivia. I looked around the place nervously. It was one of the restaurants Claire favored, but I had no heart to tell Opal about that. I thought it would make her feel at least a little bit disappointed with herself, since she was the one who had organized our dinner.

“It’s nice here,” I muttered. That was true, the place had changed a lot since the last time I’d been there, and, to my great satisfaction, they had redecorated it in black and gold, a color combination that Claire deeply detested.

Opal glanced around. “I love the black and gold fittings,” she told me as she skimmed through the drinks menu.

I couldn’t help but giggle; she looked at me in confusion.

“What’s so amusing?” she asked cautiously.

I took a sip of my water and looked around. “Claire loved this place, she saw it as some romantic setting. Have you been here before?” I replied.

Opal blushed and shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she began, but I cut her off with a gesture and gently squeezed her hand.

“Have you been here before?” I asked her again.

She shook her head.

I smiled at her reassuringly. “You see, Claire just loved everything about it here. When we were together, this place was decorated in pastels, some fancy shade of beige and blue that she adored. I found it slightly too sickly, but she loved it. It was one of her favorite color setups.

“She hated the idea of anything in the world being decorated in black and gold. She properly despised it, to a point where she would never wear her engagement ring with a black dress,” I explained.

Opal’s face brightened up as I continued speaking.

“So, as petty as it is, I’m really happy that this place has been – most likely forever ruined for her. I prefer it now. You saying how much you love it just made me laugh and reminded me how different you and Claire really are,” I explained.

Opal snorted and narrowed her gaze. “For a start, I at least try to be a decent person, not a complete and utter…” She drifted off as a waiter subtly cleared his throat behind her.

She blushed again, and I struggled to stifle laughter as we ordered our drinks. As the waiter left, Opal turned to me, still blushing.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I don’t make a habit of saying things like that about people,” she muttered timidly.

I couldn’t help but feel touched by how considerate she was, despite everything that had happened. I looked at her for a moment.

“I’d say this one was well deserved, O. You don’t have to be timid with me; I won’t judge you for what you really think about things and people. Your honesty is one of the many things I adore about you,” I told her softly.

She blushed again and gave me the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I was happy that I could make her feel so accepted. She leaned over and kissed me softly.

“You're an amazing man, Ethan,” she whispered.

I returned the kiss. I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted what I was about to say to sound confident and manly.

“I love you, Opal,” I managed to squeak at a rather unimpressive pitch and way quieter than intended. I expected her to laugh, tell me I was an idiot, or pretend she didn’t hear it. I hoped for her to say the same.

Instead, she just looked at me for a long while, her wine glass frozen midway to her lips. Finally, she set the glass down.

“I don’t think I’m ready just yet.” She took my hand into hers and kissed my knuckles.

I felt disappointed until I looked at her face. She might not have said it, but I could see it in her eyes, and until she was ready – that was good enough for me.

Before I had a chance to say anything else, I noticed Opal’s mom walking through the door. Opal and I let go of each other’s hands like scolded children and nervously looked down. Olivia narrowed her eyes and looked at the both of us as she sat down.

“What exactly did you do? You have that look on your faces as if you were in trouble,” she said without as much as a hello.

Opal and I glanced at each other. We both figured out that we were official by this point, but also agreed that it would feel weird to announce it to Olivia. While we knew we weren’t doing anything wrong, the woman was Opal’s mom and, in a way, felt like my mom, too. It was difficult to describe. Olivia ordered her drink and began to study the menu while we exchanged nervous glances. Finally, Olivia put the menu down. Her gaze jumped between us as if she was watching a tennis match, then she folded her arms on her chest and cleared her throat.

“Okay, can one of you please say something?” she asked.

Opal let out a long breath and muttered something about appetizers, but Olivia didn’t let go of things that easily. She pinned us both with her gaze.

“Don’t try to avoid the question, Opal. Has he knocked you up or something?” she asked in a very matter-of-fact manner.

I would like to be able to say that we took that question with some level of grace, but it would be a lie. I choked on my wine, and she dropped her menu. Olivia took another calm drink of her wine and shook her head.

“No, that can’t be it. I know Opal wouldn’t be drinking if she were pregnant,” she stated calmly.

Opal and I exchanged glances, then stared at her mom in shock.

Finally, Olivia sighed. “For Pete’s sake, kids, speak!” she groused in frustration.

Opal cleared her throat. “It’s nothing, Mom,” she muttered.

Olivia rolled her eyes at her. “Can you two please stop sneaking around like a pair of horny teenagers? I might be old, but I’m not blind. I can tell that you two have been dating,” she told us shortly.

We exchanged glances and looked at her again.

She shook her head. “Can you both stop looking as if I’ve caught you doing something very inappropriate? I’m starving,” she added before she buried her nose back in the menu.

Opal and I sighed with relief as we focused our minds on the appetizers, with one less thing to worry about in the future.

Before I realized it, six months had flown by. My legs were more or less fully recovered, despite the need for the crutch now and then. Opal and I were now openly together and decided to move in together, too. The more time she and I spent together, the more I realized how much I loved her. After a bit more time and intimacy, Opal finally told me that she loved me, too.

I don’t think I could ever imagine being happier. Between me, Opal, and the cat (whom we – meaning Opal – decided to name Hippocrates), we were now settled into a happy relationship and happy home. I still felt like a complete moron for allowing both of us to miss out on what could have been the most amazing years of our lives, but, after all, we still had all the time in the world to enjoy each other. I realized exactly how much I had missed her, and now, I couldn’t imagine life without her. I knew that I never wanted to lose her again.