Chapter 18: Thousands More

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"Isla?" She called out the moment she arrived home, her keys settling with a metallic clink into the bowl on top of the organiser in the hallway. Calypso had brought the little girl home from daycare today, which was the only reason the gift was still captive in Emery's bag as she placed it beside the keys.

But it was Calypso she found walking down the hallway towards her when she looked towards the sound of footsteps.

"Actually," Cal began, a cryptic glint in her eyes. "She's not home."

Emery crossed her arms. There was a game here, she just hadn't figured it out yet. "Please tell me you didn't leave her behind at daycare, she might end up revoking your mom status in revenge if you have."

"She's with Meena," Cal explained as she moved closer, solving one question while conceiving another. "For the evening. Possibly the whole night."

Well, that was just cheeky. Emery's eyebrows raised, though there was no real disapproval behind the gesture. "And why is she with Meena?"

"Because," Calypso began, stepping so close that it would have been intrusive if it were anyone else, enough to make her suck in a breath, which was really just pitiful at this point. "It occurred to me recently that we've been seeing each other for over a whole year but I don't think I've ever actually taken you out for dinner."

Oh. Any objection in her posture tumbled away along with the tangle of her arms as she spoke, cheerful. "We're going out?"

"If you want to."

Emery found herself considering, which was unexpected. It would be nice, she wasn't arguing that, but she wasn't sure if it would feel like them, and she had at times found the whole dinner thing rigidly ceremonial.

But she heard herself agreeing anyway.

...

The dress wasn't new, but she was keenly aware Calypso had never seen her in it before. An evening dress, appropriately, though the skirt was short - the flowing black material breaching just below her knees, the bodice giving way to patterned lace around her shoulders.

It was not designed to be sinful, more elegant than immodest, but something like lust still flickered across Calypso's face as Emery descended the stairs towards her. She'd dressed up too, but you could dress a cowgirl in a ballgown and there would still be something charmingly rugged about her. It had only been for five years, she would remind her, but it was still fun to taunt her with.

Emery had always thought it unfair that Cal's work had outfitted her with a selection of extremely well-fitted suits and dresses yet she'd only had the pleasure of seeing her in them a handful of times. A crime, really.

But there was a reason for that, she knew, trying not to grin confidently as she approached where Cal was waiting, looking only two degrees shy off uncomfortable. She was wearing a gorgeous shade of burgundy with a slit down the side, a touch of her smooth thigh, catching the light. It was too revealing for Calypso, but oh god does she look hot in it.

"Ready?"

Calypso just nodded, her expression softening, before placing a hand carefully on the small of Emery's back and guiding her towards and out the front door.

...

The evening air was gentle, the sky speckled pink, and perhaps it should have been unseemly that they were out for the evening while there were still rays of sun in the sky, but they'd surrendered themselves to Isla's schedule months ago. The definition of late had enduringly changed, and maybe it had been near mortifying when she'd explained it to Meena, but bedtime was bedtime, and even this, under the dawn of evening, felt like trespassing onto a world that was no longer theirs. But Emery was not grieving, the rest of the world could keep its convivialities under the influence of late nights, loud music and inebriated bodies. She had everything she needed, and it wasn't found downtown or in the youth of morning.

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