That compliment earns Tilda kiss, which Naomi promptly gives her. She even lingers a little longer than she normally would in a restaurant setting, savoring this small moment of happiness among an ongoing storm. Maybe shit hasnât completely hit the fan yet, but a bit was flung their way when that arsonist set her shop ablaze. Now it looks like an overdone crĂšme brĂ»lĂ©e. âDo I? Youâre the writerâŠmaybe I learned from you,â she smiles, tapping the edge of Tildaâs nose with her index finger. Itâs nearly impossible to think about losing this person in front of her, this person she loves so much and has a kid with. At this point, worry is like another layer of skin on her body. Sheâs used to it, itâs always there, and no matter how much it scars, it always grows back. But theyâve proven themselves as partners and now mothers time and time again, stronger than everything else trying to tear them down. Itâs easy to forget with all the clutter in their lives now that they both started out proving themselves as survivors. Naomi sighs, âyouâre right. If not you or me than Terry, because we know heâs has success with kids in the past. He may not have made you, but he raised you and youâŠyouâre perfect.â The hand closest to Tilda, the one sheâs fiddling with, reaches out and takes hers, squeezing her palm gently. âTheyâre probably playing spaghetti monsters right now as we speak.âÂ
Clearly theyâre both winning by Tildaâs choice in attire, and quite frankly sheâs sweating at the idea that there could be more. Matilda Ballantine in a short little nighty? Sign me the fuck up, Naomi thinks, licking her lips as they pull away from a rather heated kiss. Later, later, she reminds herself, trying to appear a little less eager than she actually is. They can make it through dinner⊠maybe. âOh god. If sheâs anything like me in high school, we may want to put bar on her windowsâŠmagical ones, sturdy ones.â But, if sheâs anything like Naomi in high school, even with bars on the window, she would find a way. Picturing baby Layla as a teenager in a tube top and short shorts yelling at them for being too âlameâ is definitely a wake up call Naomi did not need. She shakes it away, instead focusing on the wine list in front of them. She squints, âmaybe a Merlot? Iâm thinking about getting the grilled chicken and this place is so fancy it has wine pairings with the meal. Did you see that? Look at this,â Naomi leans over, pointing to her menu. There is in fact, in the corner of each menu item, a wine listed that would go best with said item. âI bet the bathroom has little mints and perfumes too- oh fuck, do you think Iâll have to tip someone when we go in there? It really freaks me out when they have bathroom attendance just in there with hand towelsâŠthey justâŠlisten to you go to the bathroom, Til.âÂ
The kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome and she relishes the chance to kiss Naomi without worrying about something else. Is even a little sad when she breaks away, even if its a good thing when the waiter is blushing red from the table over. Tilda smothers a laugh, and her nose crinkles as Naomi taps it. âOh, alright, if you want to shower me with compliments, Iâll accept it. Iâm a damn good writer, and they deserved the smack down I gave them,â she says with a shrug, thinking to her article on the arsonist and the council not long after Naomiâs attack. âI know, I know, it was dangerous, but it was necessary.â She knows its better to show teeth before someone bites you first. She prefers this topic of writing, of words, rather than the worry underneath it at all. She hadnât missed the way Naomi kissed her, and the fear underneath all the enthusiasm, as if worried one kiss might be their last. No, Tilda thinks they deserve better than worrying about things like that. She smiles, pleased and near glowing with happiness at the sweetness of her words; no one has ever considered her worthy, let alone perfect, and she forgets sometimes how heady it is to be wanted the way Naomi wants her, the way she wants Naomi. âYouâve already succeeded in wooing me, Clover, Iâll take off my dress willingly when weâre in private,â she teases. She links their fingers, and then gives into the temptation, leaning across the table to kiss her again. Its a coincidence that the waiter is returning for their wine order and promptly disappears again, making her laugh against Naomiâs lips and drawback.
Pleased with herself, she lets go of her hand to look at the menu, skimming over the listed items. Focus, she has to remember, even if sheâs antsy for when dinner is done and they can head onto the next adventure of the weekend. âWhat, you want to turn our daughter into Harry Potter?â she asks, blinking, amused at the notion. âAnd if sheâs anything like you, sheâll find a way around some bars on her window. Face it, weâre fucked. Weâre going to be too old to be cool.â She shouldnât find the notion so entertaining. Sure, its worrying, and a little weird to imagine their baby as a teenager, rolling her eyes at them, but as Tilda lowers the menu back to the table, a grin is on her face. âI think Iâll get the steak, Iâll steal chicken off yours, and merlot goes with anything,â she decides with a nod. Naomiâs worry is so normal, so different than all their other ones so far that when the waiter comes to take their orders, sheâs too busy laughing to speak properly and Naomi is left to handle him. When he leaves, head shaking, sheâs composed herself again, but still looks amused. âI know Lethe is desperate for jobs to give people, but I canât imagine they have bathroom attendants. I mean, thatâs just extreme! Is this place that nice?â she casts a critical eye around, but, well, she supposes it is.