“We need privacy,” Noelle said, as she carried Miriam out toward the carriage house.
“We’ll have food ready for you later!” Mrs. Matthews called.
“Much later!” Noelle called back.
“Where are we going?” Miriam laughed. “It’s cold outside. Also, all the blood is rushing to my head!” As Noelle set her down, she asked, “Wait, where are we?”
The carriage house looked completely new.
“This is the carriage house. It was built with the original house, so it’s probably been here all your life,” Noelle deadpanned.
Miriam stared at her.
“It’s our house,” Noelle told her, “I hope. I set up the front half of the house as a studio and workshop, because it gets better light.”
Miriam clutched Noelle’s hand as she looked around the room. The entire building had been redecorated, with an extensive studio setup ready in the front, including all the equipment she’d had shipped from Charleston and new blank canvases on easels. Baba Yaga and La Llorona were framed and hanging, looking at each other, over the fireplace. In the back of the main floor was an open-plan kitchen with a big farmhouse-style table, a professional KitchenAid mixer, a gas top stove—
“How did you do all this in two weeks? Are you magic?” Miriam was in awe.
“Mr. Matthews is. Do you like it?” Noelle asked, nervously.
Miriam needed a moment to find her voice, overwhelmed by the magnitude of such a gesture both from Noelle and from Ben Matthews, the man who’d shown her what a dad could be.
“I love it, but why?” Miriam asked. “What did I do to deserve this wildly elaborate gift?”
“Remodeling projects are how dykes say I love you,” Noelle said sheepishly.
Miriam swung to look at her. “I know you love me. You said it forty-seven times yesterday alone. I can show you the text log.”
Noelle shrugged. “I realize I tell you every day, but I needed to show you. I love you. I love your quixotic, unexpected mix of twee pop art and biting political commentary. I love that your hair is the size of the rest of your body. I love that you are the surrogate grandchild of an elaborate network of junkers across the country. I love that you come with a built-in fandom. I want to be the president of it, by the way. I want to be the head Bloomer and tag myself in Instagram stories where I gush about how smart and pretty you are. I want to rethink everything about my life and my future, with you at the center.”
“You built me a house?” Miriam was trying to process everything Noelle had just said and also not start crying. “I was already in love with you!”
“I mean it was already built. I did build you the loft. And the staircase.”
There was a spiral staircase leading up to a loft that Miriam hadn’t noticed in everything else. The rails were beautiful carved wood spires.
“Is it safe?” Miriam was in awe.
Noelle pretended affront. “I would never risk your life with an unsafe staircase!” Then she looked down at her shoes, a little embarrassed. “It’s Carrigan’s pine. From my trees.”
Miriam teared up. This was beyond her imagining. To be loved like this, that Noelle would cut her trees and shape them and build their home, so they could start their lives together sheltered in wood that Cass had planted.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Miriam started, but Noelle stopped her.
“I wanted to prove to you that I was ready for us. You did the biggest, bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, and I wanted to be worthy of it.”
“Is this the Adirondacks’ version of the lesbian U-Haul?” Miriam asked. “I built you a cabin?” She had to joke, or she was going to sob.
Noelle laughed. “Will you live here with me? Can we build this life together?” She looked so nervous, and it was so damned cute.
“Were you really worried? Out here I can go get coffee in my underwear in the morning, I have my own middle-of-the-night-baking kitchen, and no one will get mad at us if we, um, get a little loud.” Eventually, this house would be full of Bloomers all day, but for now it was just the two of them, and Miriam was going to take advantage of it. She was going to have to figure out how to balance having her space open to fans while keeping some privacy, being more herself on camera without losing healthy distance, but she didn’t have to figure it out today.
“Were you planning on getting a little loud?” Noelle asked, her eyes lighting up.
“Do you think you can make me?” Miriam challenged her.
Noelle pulled her in for a hot, insistent kiss that was an entire seduction, a promise of filthy, beautiful things. Their mouths demanded and their hands grasped at each other’s clothes.