Baran stood up. Yolanda looked up at her, confused but still smiling. “What are you doing?”

Baran held out her hand. “Dance with me.”

Yolanda’s eyebrows lifted. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“The dinner is not over.”

“It can wait.”

The musicians adjusted almost silently. The violinist looked toward Trinity, waiting. The opening chords had not started. There was still time to run. There was still time to say she had changed her mind. There was still time to fake a medical emergency. Maybe hers. Maybe someone else’s. She was not above throwing Whitaker off the yacht if needed.

Yolanda took Baran’s open hand and they moved away from the shoulder. Baran glanced over Yolanda’s shoulder to Trinity.

Trinity took one last, deep breath and then the woman started to play the violin. The first notes of “At Last” slipped out over the deck, and Trinity forgot for one terrible second that she was supposed to come in at all.

Then she opened her mouth and sang. It came out steadier than she thought it would. It came out the way that it did when she was certain that no one else could hear her. Except now everyone could hear her. All the crew and the guests.

At last.

Yolanda’s head turned and her gaze met Trinity’s across the deck. Neither could look away.

My love has come along.

Yolanda went completely still in Baran's arms, her lips parted, her whole face open with a shock that had nothing polished about it. Trinity couldn’t look away. Baran looked back over her shoulder as well, smiling when she saw Trinity there, before turning back towards her wife.

My lonely days are over and life is like a song.

Baran's hand settled at the small of Yolanda's back and drew her in, and Yolanda let herself be drawn, still staring past her wife's shoulder at Trinity like she'd never seen her before in her life.

Then Baran said something, right against her ear, and Yolanda closed her eyes and turned her face into Baran's neck. They danced slowly while the music played.

Trinity wondered what it would be like to not be lonely. To find someone who made you feel like you weren’t alone on this planet. She thought about Yolanda buying her the necklace and telling her that she was deserving of nice things. She thought of Baran’s eyes looking at her asking who took care of her, like maybe she wanted to.

At last, the skies above are blue.

Trinity didn’t know if she could really call it dancing. They barely moved, just swaying against one another, turning with years of practice of knowing where the other one would move.

She sang it and watched them and let the ache in, because there was no keeping it out. It went straight into her voice, and it only made the song better. That was the cruelest joke of the whole night. She'd spent her whole life pouring her voice into empty rooms and for sleeping children. Now it finally had somewhere to go, and that somewhere was two women wrapped up in each other under a string of lights. Trinity understood with a slow, sinking feeling that this was as close as she would ever get to a love like that.

She’d always be just outside of it.

I found a dream I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own.

Yolanda's forehead met Baran's. She said something too quiet to carry and Baran laughed and then tipped her face up like she was trying not to cry. Trinity's throat nearly closed.

They looked like a dream.

She wondered how they met. How they fell in love. Who proposed to whom. Whose dream wedding song this was. She wondered so much about the two women who would be gone from her life within the next few days.

A thrill that I've never known.

Was a thrill all it had been? The flirting, the teasing, the tension?

She kept singing.

You smiled, you smiled, oh, and then the spell was cast.

The sinking feeling in Trinity’s stomach widened as she watched them, now looking oblivious to everyone around them

Trinity could stand in the light in a borrowed dress and pour out the one private thing she'd never given anyone, they would take it, and still turn to each other at the end of it. Because at the end of it there was only ever going to be the two of them.

She thought about what she had. She thought about how three days from now life would go back to how it was and then it would just be her. Her, a season to finish, a necklace she had nowhere to wear, and two brothers who weren't speaking to her. Oh, that and the enormous emptiness in her chest that always came after wanting something she was never going to get to keep.

And here we are in heaven.

She sang the last of it to the water instead of to them, because they didn't need her to interlude anymore than she already had. They had each other. They'd always had each other.

For you are mine, at last.

When the last note faded, Yolanda pulled back just far enough to look at her wife and neither of them turned, or applauded, or seemed to remember anyone else was there at all. They just held each other's gaze, ten years deep, so plainly and completely in love that Trinity had to look away from it.

The crew clapped. Somewhere to her side, Whitaker cheered too loudly.

Trinity stood by the band with the song still humming in her and her chest gone hollow. She watched the two of them pull each other to a kiss: slow, private, meant for no one. Trinity understood, with a dull and familiar certainty, exactly what she was.

She was the music, the good part of the trip, the girl to flirt with, the girl who made the beautiful moment happen and then stood at the edge of it while it belonged to someone else.

There was no room in that picture for her.