Three hours.
They had searched for three hours.
Everywhere they could think to look. The dive bar where they'd met. The bookstore Roxie liked to browse when she didn't want to talk to anyone. The docks. The beach. Even the little chapel two neighborhoods over that Dianna had only ever seen her glance at.
Nothing.
No sign of her.
And her phone?
Dead.
Not voicemail.
Not "this number is unavailable."
Just dead.
Like she'd turned it off. Like she hadn't wanted to be found.
Now Dianna stood in front of her own apartment door, key limp between her fingers, throat dry, heart somewhere under her ribs trying to claw its way out.
She didn't move.
She just stared at the knob like it held an answer she wasn't ready to hear.
The Pack stood behind her, quiet in the narrow hallway.
Ashley rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. "I just… I don't get it," she muttered. "One little joke and she bolts?"
"She probably just panicked," Emily said, though even she didn't sound convinced. "It was a lot. Big crowd. Big moment."
Dianna didn't speak.
Elizabeth stood beside her, calm and still, her presence a tether.
Then Ashley sniffed the air.
Wrinkled her nose. "Okay, what is that smell?"
They all froze.
Ashley sniffed again, more dramatically this time. "That's food. That's really good food."
"Probably leftovers from the vegan place," Dianna murmured. Her voice was so hoarse it barely counted as speech.
Ashley shook her head. "Nope. No way. That smells like… lemon and garlic and something crispy. And I smell fish! Fish ain't vegan!"
Dianna swallowed.
She felt the key dig into her palm.
Elizabeth stepped in close, her hand gentle on her shoulder now.
"You have to open it sometime, sweetie," she said softly.
Dianna just stood there, eyes wide, voice barely more than a breath.
"What if she's not in there?"
Elizabeth's answer came quiet. Certain.
"Then you know."
The key turned with a soft click.
Dianna pushed the door open.
And froze.
Her breath caught like it had snagged on something sharp and delicate in her throat.
Because the loft was—
Spotless.
Not just tidy. Not just "picked up." But clean in the way only love makes a place. Every surface gleamed. None of Dianna's usual clutter lay about the place, no stray socks or empty booze bottles or medical textbooks laying open. Even Roxie's duffel, which often lived by the door had been stashed away somewhere. It looked like a different home. Like a dream someone had scrubbed into reality.
But more than that—roses.
Roses were scattered across the floor in a trail that led from the threshold to the heart of the room. Not just tossed but placed. Thoughtfully. Soft petals glowing gold in the warm flicker of—
Candlelight.
That's why they hadn't seen the lights from the street.
There were no lights.
Only the quiet shimmer of flame, dozens of them—tea candles, votives, tall tapers in mismatched holders—casting soft shadows across the walls, the ceiling, the hardwood below their feet.
And then—
Dianna saw her.
Roxie.
Seated at the very edge of their couch like she wasn't sure she was allowed to take up space. Her bare feet curled beneath her. She was beautiful, her hair freshly washed and loose, cascading down her back like a river of midnight. A red dress clung to her curves—halter-style, elegant, with a slit up the thigh that hinted at grace rather than begged for attention. She looked like she had stepped out of a movie Dianna wasn't old enough to watch without a chaperone.
And when she stood—
Dianna's heart nearly gave out.
All seven feet of her, unfolding slow like she was afraid to scare anyone.
And then, in the softest, shyest voice Dianna had ever heard:
"...Hi."
----
Oh!
Rox was startled to say the least.
All of them were with her. Tiny and Elizabeth and Emily and Ashley.
Roxie's heart did a little hiccup in her chest.
Well. That was… irritating.
She had planned on making a mistake tonight.
Not a big one. Not catastrophic. Just... a little one.
A beautiful, possibly reckless, maybe-a-sin kind of mistake.
She'd been ready—prepared—to give Dianna everything. All the armor stripped off. All the softness out on display. Her voice. Her art. Her... affection.
But the Lord, as always, worked in mysterious ways.
And if these glittered, glitzy weirdos—this strange, chaotic little family Dianna had brought home—were the divine roadblock sent to keep her from throwing herself headfirst into temptation?
Then so be it.
Not my will but Yours be done.
So she swallowed hard. Smoothed the dress down over her hips. Felt the satin cling to her palms with a whisper of nervous sweat.
"I, um… I didn't expect so many," she said, her voice small but steady.
Then, with a breath, she gestured toward the table where dinner waited—saffron and herbs, citrus and steam.
"But it's fine. I made plenty."
She stepped back, motioning them in with a gentle, uncertain smile.
"So… come on in."
----
For one breathless second, Dianna considered kicking all of them down the stairs.
Just—bam—right into Tiny. Knock him over like a lead domino and let the rest tumble after, arms flailing and curses flying, a glittery punk rock bowling ball of chaos.
Then she could lock the door. Wrap Roxie up in her arms and press her against the nearest surface, hold her there until every fear was melted and every word was sung skin to skin. She wouldn't even have to explain. The Pack wouldn't hold it against her. They'd probably cheer.
But Roxie—
Roxie had just smiled.
That radiant, shy, luminous thing she did with her mouth when she was nervous but trying anyway. When her heart was trembling but her faith was louder.
She had smiled and said, I made plenty.
And that was what shattered Dianna.
Because who the hell did that?
Who got humiliated in front of a crowd, called a girlfriend when they weren't one, baited into a stage performance that made them run—
And came home to make an apology dinner?
Roxie. That's who.
Dianna's chest ached. Her knees nearly buckled. She didn't deserve this woman. But damn it, she was going to try.
So she smiled back—crooked and reverent, like she was standing in a church where the roof had just come off.
If Roxie had the grace to let these people act as third, fourth, fifth, and sixth wheels… who the hell was Dianna to refuse?
She stepped inside.
And the candles flickered in welcome.
Roxie stepped forward, her bare feet whispering against the hardwood. She didn't reach for Dianna—not yet. She just looked at her, hands folded in front of her like she might be holding her own heart there. And then, in a voice that was both prayer and plea:
"Sorry I got scared," she said.
A pause. A beat of silence so still even the candles seemed to lean in.
"I do that. I… I was so freaked I took the bus." A little laugh trembled in her throat. "I lost my phone somewhere. I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
For a second Dianna just blinked. Because—what? No. No!
"Forgive you?!" Her voice cracked like lightning across the stunned quiet. "Forgive—woman! I want to propose!"
A little gasp somewhere behind her. Tiny softly muttering, "Hoo boy."
But Dianna surged forward, not touching yet, not quite daring. "I should be apologizing for my idiot friend! I am sorry for my idiot friend! Don't you dare apologize to me!"
And then her hands were on Roxie's shoulders, reverent and trembling.
"You made dinner. You lit candles. You came back."
She didn't say I thought I'd lost you forever but it was in her voice.
Roxie smiled—small, sheepish, sweet. She tilted her head just a little, the candlelight catching in the slope of her cheek, in the shimmer of her eyes.
"Of course," she said.
Simple. Obvious.
"I'll always come back to you."
Then, softer still—like she was naming something she had known for longer than she'd dared admit, like the words were just now catching up to her soul—
"You're my person."
And that was it.
That was the shot to the heart. An absolute orbital strike from a 7' angel.
Dianna made a small, wounded noise, half-gasp, half-laugh, like someone had dropkicked her off an emotional cliff. Her brain instantly caught fire—What the hell does that mean? What do I say back? Oh God, I'm not ready for this but also I want to marry her right here next to the balsamic reduction and the frickin rose petals—
Tiny turned away, grinning to himself like a man who'd just watched a housecat eat a lion.
Ashley sniffled. Emily choked.
And Dianna? Dianna stood there, trembling, eyes wide, lips parted, spiraling so hard she was a galaxy unto herself.
"Y-your person?" she whispered.
Roxie just nodded, calm and unshakable as a sunrise. "Mhm."
Roxie, for her part, didn't seem to notice the detonation she'd just caused. Or maybe she noticed—just not the scale of it. She smiled again, a little embarrassed, a little shy. Then she leaned in, slow and unsure, like a girl leaving a gift at the altar of something she didn't yet understand.
And she kissed Dianna's forehead.
Soft. Chaste. Trembling.
It was nothing.
It was everything.
And then—and then—she turned away. With the ease of someone who hadn't just cracked the Earth in half, Roxie went to fetch more chairs from around the kitchen island, muttering something about how she should've gotten out the folding ones too.
Dianna didn't move.
Couldn't move.
She was still standing in that exact spot, brain static, skin lit up like a pinball machine. Her soul had just been kissed and dismissed like that was a normal thing to do on a weeknight.
Ashley held out a hand to catch Dianna in case she fell. Her ears twitched and she fought the impulse to wag her tail as she just deadpanned, "Yep. She's gone."
Emily peeked at Dianna's face. "Dead. Toast. Flatlined."
Lizzy offered a reverent nod. "Died of forehead affection. Tragic."
And Dianna? She just stood there, hand slowly rising to touch the spot above her brow like she could press the moment deeper into her skull. Her eyes were full. Her thoughts were soup. Her knees didn't work anymore.
"I—" she squeaked, but language had left the building.
And Roxie, humming softly to herself, was just... rearranging chairs. The air stayed hushed for another beat—just long enough to let Dianna remain slightly comatose, her hand still ghosting over her forehead like that kiss might disappear if she breathed too hard.
Then—
"Woman," Elizabeth said, voice low and rich as velvet, "if after this dinner you don't absolutely do your best to clit-matize this woman, you have lost your last brain cell."
Ashley wheezed.
Emily covered her mouth in faux horror.
Elizabeth, serene as ever, added, "I'm straight and I'm thinking about marrying her. Honestly, if you don't want her, I'll just convert and fight you for custody."
Dianna made a strangled sound that might've been a whimper or possibly the sound angels made when they were this close to falling.
"I hate you," she muttered.
Elizabeth only smiled, the way the Mona Lisa might smile if she were five drinks in and full of bisexual menace. "Mm. No you don't."
Ashley leaned in conspiratorially. "Can we keep her if Dianna dies? Like, does she default to the Pack? Is there a will?"
Emily nodded solemnly. "I will raise her. She will be our artistic, awkward ward."
"She cooks," Ashley whispered. "She cleans."
"She's Catholic," Emily added with reverence.
"I'm standing right here," Dianna growled, trying to swat them both but missing by several inches because she still hadn't regained full motor control.
Meanwhile, Roxie looked over her shoulder, utterly innocent, hair swaying like a prayer shawl. "What are you guys talking about?"
And every single one of them turned and chorused, "Nothing!"
Roxie had just turned back toward the kitchen, fussing with something near the oven, when Tiny—who had been blessedly quiet up until now—raised his stein and leaned back in his chair like a man dropping wisdom from the mountaintop.
"Hey look, big momma," he drawled, voice as smooth as bourbon in July, "if you ever decide you wanna get back on solids… just so you know, I'm yo man."
A beat.
Utter silence.
Then he added, entirely too casually, "And besides, I'm taller than Dianna, so we'd get less stares."
There was a soft choking sound.
Dianna, who had been mid-sip of water in a desperate attempt to cool off her brainstem, sputtered and slammed the glass down hard enough to rattle the coasters.
"You absolute bastard," she hissed, eyes wide with the kind of rage usually reserved for stage techs who unplugged amps mid-solo. "Say that again and I will feed you your teeth."
Tiny gave her a lazy grin, unbothered. "C'mon now, kitten, no need for violence. Just sayin'—a gal's gotta know her options."
Emily practically fell out of her chair laughing.
Ashley screamed into her arm.
Elizabeth merely muttered, "And this is why I drink."
Dianna, furious and flushed and very nearly foaming, pointed an accusatory finger across the table. "He's not allowed to talk anymore."
Tiny winked at Roxie. "Tell her I love her."
Roxie, utterly flustered and glowing pink from the roots of her hair down to her collarbone, just squeaked, "Um, plates are ready!"
And just like that, the storm passed, the table breaking into laughter, forks clinking, the scent of citrus and herbs rising like incense from the kitchen.
Roxie plated and Elizabeth served. Saffron rice fluffed and steaming, bright citrus cutting through the gentle scent of herb and fish. Roxie moved with the quiet grace of a hostess trying very hard not to look like she was vibrating with nerves. She lit one last candle, flinched when the match flared too close, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear like it had personally offended her.
Ashley was the first to have her fork locked and loaded. "Oh my God, it smells like heaven got horny," she whispered, eyes glazing. "I'm gonna marry this rice. Just a lil ceremony, me and the pilaf, on the beach—"
But just as she raised a bite to her lips, Emily slapped her wrist with the back of her spoon.
Ashley yelped. "Emmy, why?! I'm starving!"
Emily narrowed her eyes and leaned in, voice low and serious. "Have you seen her hips, Ash?"
Ashley blinked, momentarily confused. "I mean, yeah, they're—wait, what does that—"
"If you put that in your mouth before she says grace," Emily hissed, "that woman will judo throw you off this balcony. And then I'll have to jump in solidarity. We die together."
A beat.
Ashley slowly, very slowly, set the fork down like she was defusing a bomb.
"…Okay."
Across the kitchen, Roxie glanced up, oblivious. "Did you say something?"
Ashley shot her a bright, too-wide smile. "Nope! Just admiring the…uh, the rice."
Emily gave a sage nod. "It's gorgeous, just like the chef."
Ashley elbowed her. "You suck."
"You'd have gone out screaming." Emily told her, laying her head on the dog-girls shoulder.
"You would've hit the sidewalk dab-first." Ashley groused and playfully bit the top of her lover's ear.
"True." Emily sighed, happily. "I would've posed like a queen."
Dianna, watching from across the counter, muttered, "I'm gonna get a leash for both of you."