Chapter 5
People always praised Agatha for being smart, quick on her feet and almost freakishly good at reading people. She could tear through a legal contract in minutes, always pick the fastest checkout line at the grocery store, and somehow guess what someone was about to say before they even said it. But when it came to making decisions that actually mattered? She was a complete idiot. A full-fledged, walking disaster wrapped in a deceptively competent exterior.
Exhibit A, that time she impulse-bought a ridiculously expensive ergonomic chair, only to realize she sits like a goblin and never actually leans back. Exhibit B, when she ghosted a therapist because she didn’t like how right they were. Exhibit C, and, most notably, Rio.
Rio was the kind of choice Agatha should’ve made without hesitation. But Agatha was smart. Too smart for her own good. And smart people do dumb things all the time. And if that were the measure, Agatha was damn near a genius.
For the first time since they moved in, the apartment felt suffocating. Or maybe it was just Jen’s relentless stare drilling holes into Agatha’s skull. She planted herself in front of her, hands on her hips, practically vibrating with frustration.
“So let me get this straight,” Jen began, like she was explaining something painfully simple to a child. “Rio – who, mind you, is the most emotionally constipated person alive, according to Alice – actually confesses to you, lays it all out there, practically hands you her stupid, stubborn heart, and you just let her walk away? Just like that?”
Agatha slouched on the couch, beer in hand at the completely unacceptable hour of lunch, trying to look like she didn’t care. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Jen, please. I really don’t need this conversation right now.”
“Oh, no. I’m done pretending I don’t care about your love life,” Jen shot back, already pacing. “We’re having this conversation because I need to understand.” She gestured wildly. “Because from where I’m standing, this is some next-level dumbassery, Agatha. Even for you.”
“First of all, I'm pretty sure that’s not a real word. Second, she didn’t actually confess.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Or maybe I was wrong to think you’re the smartest person I know,” Jen said, shaking her head. Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it inflate your already massive ego. But, Agatha, she showed up here in the middle of the night. Climbed eight flights of freaking stairs. That alone should’ve been proof enough. You really think that woman does cardio for just anyone?”
Agatha scoffed. “Fine. But even if she did, the woman’s leaving, Kale. What do you want me to do, tie her to a chair? She said it herself, she’s not built for…”
“For what?” Jen snapped. “For love? For you? Why do you keep doing this thing where you decide for people whether they’re capable of giving a shit about you?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Oh, really?” Jen threw her hands up again. “Because from what I’m seeing, it looks exactly like that.” She took a deep breath. “Listen, Harkness, I get it. I really do. Letting someone in, giving them the power to hurt you. It’s fucking terrifying.” She then dropped onto the couch beside her. “But you can’t keep running every time something feels real.”
Agatha didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
Jen let out a breath. “Let me ask you something.” She grabbed the beer from Agatha’s hand. “Are you okay right now?”
Agatha frowned. “What?”
“Right now. Sitting here. Pretending you don’t care,” Jen said. “Do you feel good about this?”
Agatha opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Exactly,” Jen muttered. She stood up, snatched her keys off the counter, and headed for the door. Just before opening it, she paused. “You better figure your shit out, Agatha. Because no matter what went down, Rio actually showed up.” She glanced back. “And the way I see it? If you let her slip away just because you’re scared, that’s just on you.”
Agatha sat at her desk, scowling at the email blinking on her screen. Two days of moping. Two days of enduring Jen’s non stop nagging until, this morning, when she had finally snapped and physically shoved her out of the apartment. “I’m begging you. Go to work. Do something other than sulking like a dumbass,” she’d said.
Fine. Whatever. Agatha went to work. But what she hadn’t been prepared for was Jen casually dropping, “Oh, by the way, Rio’s flight is today.”
Agatha had thought about it. Really thought about it. About calling Alice, demanding Rio’s address, and marching over there the way Rio had done for her. It would be poetic, wouldn’t it? Showing up at her door, saying all the things she hadn’t managed to say that night.
But whatever genius brain she had, she couldn’t make herself do it.
Maybe it was her mother’s voice still buried in the back of her head, telling her love wasn’t meant for people like her. Maybe it was the long list of women she’d kissed, then walked away from. Maybe karma had finally caught up, sinking its teeth in and making her pay for every heart she’d left behind. Or maybe it was something even worse. For the first time in her life, she actually believed in signs. And every part of her was convinced that if she ran to Rio now, if she said everything she wanted to say, the universe would make her regret it.
She exhaled, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the cursor blinking like it was just as fed up with her as she was with herself. The email had been haunting her for weeks.
“Harkness.”
She shut it immediately and looked up, barely suppressing the irritation crawling up her spine.
“Would you mind grabbing me a cup of coffee?” her boss asked. For the third damn time today.
Agatha forced a tight-lipped smile and, for one brief, glorious second, wished her boss would drop dead from caffeine-induced heart failure. That sight might actually improve her fucking day.
She had two degrees, years of experience, and more talent than half the people in this damn building. Yet here she was, fetching coffee for a man whose greatest accomplishment was remembering to CC the right people in an email.
“Sure,” she said instead.
Because arguing was pointless. Because saying no would only make her life harder. Because stepping out of the office, even for a few minutes, meant she wouldn’t have to sit there thinking about Rio. She grabbed her coat and walked out.
Agatha stood in line at the coffee shop, arms crossed, foot impatiently tapping against the floor as she waited in the agonizingly slow-moving line. The place was loud. Baristas shouting orders, customers glued to their phones, and of course, the sharp smell of coffee everywhere.
And then she saw them: a mother and her kid sitting at a table by the window. The mother was stirring sugar into her coffee while the kid swung their legs, rambling about something with the unfiltered enthusiasm only children had. The sight yanked Agatha backward, deep into a memory she hadn't touched in years.
She was thirteen, sitting stiff-backed in a pew while her mother knelt beside her, head bowed so low it was like she was trying to disappear into the floor. Agatha should’ve been praying too, but instead, she was staring across the aisle, at a girl her age. Dark hair pulled into a ponytail, a tiny gold cross resting against her collarbone. She wasn’t doing anything special, just twirling a bracelet around her wrist while mouthing the prayer along with the priest.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been looking until a sharp pressure closed around her wrist. “Agatha,” her mother hissed. “Eyes forward. Stop fidgeting and pay attention.”
Agatha bit the inside of her cheek. To what? The droning voice of the priest? The sermon about love being sacrifice, being duty, being this thing you had to earn through suffering?
Well, love had always been like that in their house. Conditional. Transactional. Fragile. Something that could be taken away the moment you stepped out of line. Something you could lose if you wanted it too much.
And now, standing in this stupid coffee shop, waiting for some overpriced latte, she realized she was doing it all over again. With Rio. Swallowing things down. Locking everything up. Holding back, because deep down, she still believed that wanting love – really wanting love too much meant losing it altogether.
A loud crash yanked Agatha back to reality. She hadn’t even realized the line had moved.
Over by the barista counter, a rookie had apparently dropped a metal frothing pitcher, spilling milk across the counter and onto their apron. Someone groaned, another customer muttered a barely concealed “Jesus Christ,” and Agatha dragged a hand down her face. Great. This was shaping up to be a painfully long wait.
Before she could dwell on it, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, groaning at the notification. Another email from that dumb quote subscription she’d accidentally signed up for and still hadn’t figured out how to unsubscribe from.
“Sometimes, you just have to let fate slap you in the face. Preferably not too hard. But hey, if you deserve it, you deserve it.”
She let out a dry laugh, swiped left, and deleted the email from her inbox. Yeah, fate could go ahead and kiss her ass.
She was about to shove her phone back into her pocket when she noticed the person ahead of her receiving their change: a few coins and a single, crumpled one-dollar bill.
Her stomach dropped.
Because she knew that dollar bill.
The deep crease down the middle, like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times. The ink smudged near the corner like it had been through hell and back. And, of course, the familiar handwriting staring right back at her.
Her dollar bill.
The dollar bill.
The one Rio had written her number on.
Before she could think. Before logic, reason, or basic social etiquette could kick in, Agatha lunged forward and snatched the dollar bill straight out of the woman’s hand.
“Excuse me?” the frazzled-looking blonde in business casual snapped, like she’d just been mugged in broad daylight.
Agatha barely heard her. She was already flipping the bill over, fingers practically shaking as she scanned the surface. There. Right across the crumpled paper, smudged but unmistakable, was Rio’s handwriting. The same lazy scrawl, the same stupid wide-eyed smiley she’d drawn at the end like some lovesick weirdo.
Agatha swallowed hard, merely processing the fact that the woman was still standing there, waiting for an explanation. “Uh – I’m sorry.” Her brain immediately short-circuited.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the woman huffed, crossing her arms. “That’s my change.”
Agatha blinked. Shit. Right. Normal people don’t just steal money out of stranger’s hands. She cleared her throat. “Okay, look, lady. I, uh, know this sounds insane. And, uh, utterly ridiculous. And probably pathetic, and –” She cleared her throat again. Fuck, she was stammering. Agatha Harkness does not stammer. “But I need this dollar. Like, desperately.”
The woman squinted. “Are you seriously trying to hustle me for a fucking dollar?”
“No,” Agatha said, lifting a hand like this was a perfectly reasonable conversation. “You see, this isn’t just a dollar. It’s my dollar…a few years ago. I’m emotionally attached to it.” The woman stared at her like she’d lost her mind, along with a few bystanders who had caught the exchange. “It's deeply personal. Incredibly sentimental. A real heart-wrenching backstory.”
The woman crossed her arms, still unimpressed. “It’s a dollar.”
“Which is why I’m offering you another dollar,” Agatha countered, already digging into her pocket. She pulled out a far less significant bill and held it out between two fingers. “A completely normal, non-sentimental dollar in exchange for this one.”
The woman just stared at her so Agatha spoke again. “Come on, blondie. It’s an even trade.”
The woman rolled her eyes but snatched the new bill from Agatha’s hand. “You are so lucky I don’t care enough to argue right now.”
Agatha exhaled in relief. “Thank you. You’re doing a great service for the emotionally unhinged.”
The woman didn’t dignify that with a response. She just pocketed the dollar and walked off, muttering something under her breath that Agatha was pretty sure included the words “lunatic” and “therapy.”
Agatha just stood there for a second, gripping the bill like it might disappear if she let go. Her heart was racing. What were the odds? A city full of millions of people, countless dollar bills in circulation, and somehow, this one had made its way back to her.
The cashier cleared his throat. “So…you still want coffee? Or?”
Agatha looked up at him, then down at the bill in her hand. “Actually, no.”
And with that, she turned and walked straight out of the shop.
Agatha practically crashed into the phone booth, yanking the folding door shut behind her. Her heart pounded in her ears, fully drowning out the street noise as she turned her coat pockets inside out. And then, finally, two quarters.
“Shit.” She quickly dropped to her knees as one quarter slipped through her fingers. Snatching it up, she shoved both coins into the slot with shaking hands. She really needed to take mental notes on how ridiculous she must look right now.
The numbers on the bill were smudged, worn from being folded and unfolded too many times, but her fingers moved on their own. Then came the dial tone.
Once.
Twice.
A knot formed in her stomach. Agatha had no idea how the hell she was even still standing. What if the number was disconnected? What if she dialed it wrong? What if —
“Hello?”
Agatha swore she stopped breathing the moment someone picked up. But the voice on the other end wasn’t Rio’s. It was an older woman.
Her grip tightened around the receiver. This wasn’t Rio. But it also wasn’t supposed to be anyone else. Agatha had spent all this time convincing herself that calling was the right move, that she’d dial and hear Rio’s voice, not a stranger’s.
Maybe she had the wrong number. Maybe Rio had changed it. Or maybe this was the universe’s way of spitting in her face, shoving her effort right back down her throat. A final, cosmic fuck you for even trying.
She should say something. Ask for Rio. But Agatha’s tongue felt heavy, her mouth dry, as if saying the name would make the rejection real. Would she actually be stupid enough to hang up? Probably. She was a genius, after all, and right now, her ego was ready to take the win.
But before she could do anything, the woman on the other end spoke again.
“If you’re looking for Rio,” she said, cutting through Agatha’s stunned silence, “she just dropped by and is on her way to the airport right now.”
Agatha’s stomach plummeted. “What?” she breathed, clutching the receiver even tighter.
“She left not too long ago,” the woman continued.
Agatha pressed her forehead against the cool glass, shutting her eyes for a second, as if that would somehow stop the sinking feeling in her chest. She was too late. She had spent all this time convincing herself that she still had a chance. But now it felt like the universe had been waiting for the perfect moment to pull the rug out from under her. This was payback, wasn’t it? Some cruel joke at her expense. She had been stupid enough to believe things could go her way, stupid enough to take the bait.
Her fingers curled tighter around the receiver. She should hang up. Cut her losses. Pretend this never happened. But then something clicked. Her eyes snapped open. “Wait…how did you know I was looking for Rio?”
The woman sighed, not in frustration, but like she knew something Agatha didn’t. “Because,” she drawled, “Rio’s the only one who insisted on keeping this line connected, even though she hasn’t lived here in years.”
Agatha’s throat tightened as she stared down at the crumpled dollar bill in her fist, Rio’s messy handwriting still clear despite the fading ink. Then the woman spoke again, softer this time.
“Darling, she’s been waiting for your call.”
Agatha sat shotgun, her knee bouncing, her fingers gripping her seat like she could magically make the car fly over the others. “Could this thing go any faster?” she snapped, glancing at Ricky, who was practically sweating as he gripped the wheel, clearly aware that Agatha was too close to taking matters into her own hands and handling New York traffic herself.
Meanwhile, she’d been trying to call Jennifer, but the damn woman either had her phone off or had lost it in some godforsaken place.
“Miss Agatha, I ain’t Vin Diesel, and I’m already pushing this baby as hard as she’ll go. Unless you got wings hidden somewhere, we're gonna have to deal with traffic like everybody else.”
Agatha slumped back against the seat, chewing the inside of her cheek, her fingers tightening around the crumpled dollar bill in her lap. The last time she’d felt this kind of pressure, like she was seconds away from losing something she couldn’t afford to lose, was the night she ran away from home.
She could still remember it. The rush of adrenaline as she sprinted down the street, chasing the last bus to the city in the middle of the night, one bag slung over her shoulder, everything she owned crammed inside.
And her mother, God, her mother, had been asleep, still simmering with the rage from their last fight, the one that ended with so many slaps Agatha had lost count, the last one hard enough to make her taste blood.
But that chase had been about survival – about running from something, even if she had no clue what waited on the other side. Now, she was chasing something, someone again.
But this time, she wasn’t running away. She was running to.
And somehow, that was just as terrifying.
“Miss Agatha.”
Ricky’s voice barely registered before Agatha snapped out of it and looked up, only to realize the car had stopped. Outside her window, the airport entrance loomed, glass doors sliding open and shut as people hurried in and out, dragging their luggage behind them.
“We’re here,” Ricky said, as if she hadn’t already put two and two together. Agatha swallowed, feeling like a scared kid being shoved onstage by a mother who probably bribed the choir just to let her sing. She should move. Get out. Run. But her body wasn’t listening.
“Miss Agatha, I don’t mean to rush you, but planes don’t usually wait for nobody.”
Agatha wasn’t a coward. She told herself that every day. But sometimes, she was just stupid, and stupid never did her any good. Her hand reached for the door handle, then hesitated.
“You think this is stupid?”
Ricky gave her a look. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I do know that if you don’t get your ass out of this car, you’re gonna be really miserable for a real long time.”
Agatha gave a small nod. She still couldn’t believe she was actually taking advice from a guy. She huffed. “If this goes horribly wrong, I’m completely blaming you.” And with that, she threw open the door and ran.
Agatha sprinted toward the entrance, weaving through the crowd and nearly crashing into a middle-aged man who shot her an irritated glare, but she didn’t slow down. Then, just as she pushed forward, an arm swung out in front of her.
“Ma’am,” a security guard said, stepping directly into her path. “This area is restricted without a boarding pass,” he added firmly, eyeing her like she was about to cause a scene. Which, to be fair, wasn’t off the table.
“No, I’ll be just a minute,” Agatha said quickly. “It’s just a quick conversation. I’ll be out before you know it. I just need to speak to someone inside.”
The guard crossed his arms, his expression turning more serious as he took a step closer. “Ma'am, I’ve told you already, you can’t come through without a boarding pass. You need to turn around. If you don’t have a ticket, you’re not getting any further.”
Agatha took a breath. Panicking wouldn’t help. Arguing wouldn’t, either. But talking her way through? That, she could do.
Her eyes went wide, just enough to look devastated but not insane. “Sir, please,” she said, letting a little shake slip into her voice. “I get it. You have rules. You’re just doing your job. But the love of my life is about to get on a plane right now and…”
But the guard’s expression didn’t budge. Then Agatha saw it, a small silver cross, nestled just below his collar. “Do you believe in fate?” she asked gently, like she was speaking something sacred. Something she’d heard over and over as a child. “Because I think God put me here, in front of you, for a reason.”
She could practically hear her mother turning in her grave, scandalized by the idea that Agatha, of all people, was using faith to get her way, all just to see a girl.
The guard’s jaw twitched just a little. But Agatha had spent half a lifetime reading religious men. And she knew exactly what that twitch meant. So, she made her voice even more desperate. Maybe all those hours playing Mary in church plays her mother forced her into back in high school were finally paying off.
“I was raised to believe that when He presents you with a choice, you take the one that leads with love. That love, true, undeniable love, isn’t something you turn away from.” She let her eyes lock with his for a beat longer, as if daring him to argue. “And right now, you have the power to let me follow that love. From one Catholic brother to a sister, I’m just asking for the chance to do what I know in my heart is right.”
In the back of Agatha’s mind, she couldn’t help but picture her mother, probably screaming from the fiery depths of hell at that exact moment.
The guard stiffened, and Agatha could practically feel the struggle in him. Logic vs. faith. Rules vs. a desperate woman dropping the Almighty’s name in the middle of an airport terminal.
“I mean, what if Mary had been turned away at the inn?” she said, dropping the big guns. “What if someone told her there was really no room and left her out in the cold?” She shook her head, eyes glistening in just the right way. “Jesus wouldn’t have been born in a manger. The entire course of history would be different.” She paused and exhaled. “And I’m not saying my situation is exactly the same, but…” She shrugged helplessly. “What if you’re standing in the way of something just as important?”
The guard blinked. His lips parted slightly, then he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. And just like that, the gates of heaven parted. He did a quick scan of the area before stepping aside. “Two minutes,” he muttered. “And if anyone asks, I never saw you.”
Agatha grabbed his arm, squeezing it in exaggerated gratitude. “God bless you, kind sir,” she said dramatically, before bolting through.
After all that God talk, Agatha ran like the devil was chasing her.
Her heels pounded against the polished airport floor. She didn’t care that she was shoving past people, that she nearly sent some poor guy’s entire tray of overpriced airport coffee crashing to the ground, or that someone yelled, “Jesus Christ, lady!” as she blew past them. None of it mattered. Not the ache in her legs, not the burning in her lungs.
Her breath came fast and shallow as she turned in a slow circle, eyes darting wildly across the terminal, searching for Rio’s blonde hair in the sea of strangers.
And then, her stomach dropped. She was now staring at Jen and Alice, their faces an unspoken confirmation of everything she didn’t want to hear.
She was too late.
Agatha’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled into her sides, nails digging into her palms as if she could physically stop the ache blooming in her chest. She had run across the goddamn city. Manipulated a man of faith. Nearly got trampled in a packed airport. And for what? For Rio to be gone anyway?
Jen took a step closer. “Agatha.”
“I know.” Agatha’s voice came out hoarse, barely holding on to the illusion of composure. She shoved a hand through her hair, fingers catching in the strands. “I know.”
And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? She knew. She knew what it was like to be too late, to let something slip through her fingers and spend years wondering if she should’ve held on tighter. She knew the taste of regret, how it settled deep in your bones and refused to leave.
But she couldn’t let that happen again. Not this time.
Her dead Catholic mother sure as hell didn’t raise a quitter.
“Where the hell do I buy a ticket?”
As Agatha turned to leave, ready to sprint to the nearest ticket counter, she caught the look on Jen and Alice’s faces: wide-eyed, stunned, like they’d just seen a ghost.
Agatha’s stomach plummeted. At this rate, she was going to have to scrape it off the damn floor by the end of the day. Slowly, cautiously, she followed their line of sight.
And there, standing just a few feet away, suitcase in hand, was Rio. Her hair had returned to its natural brunette, just like the first time Agatha had ever seen her.
Whatever shred of composure Agatha had managed to hold onto throughout this entire ridiculous, heart-pounding day completely collapsed in on itself. And before she could stop herself, a few tears spilled over. “You’re still here.”
Rio lifted a shoulder. “Missed my flight.”
Agatha didn’t know what the hell to do. Didn’t know whether to yell at her, kiss her, or just collapse on the floor. So she did the only thing that made sense. She took a step closer. Then another. And then, before she knew it, she was right there, standing close enough to see the hesitation in Rio’s eyes, the way her fingers clenched around the handle of her suitcase.
“You missed your flight,” Agatha repeated.
She stared at her, and for a second, she actually wanted to laugh. Of course, something this ridiculous would happen to them. The universe really had a sense of humor. But then her eyes found Rio’s again. And the humor faded. The other woman was still hurting, Agatha could see it. The guarded way she held herself, like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or run.
Rio didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look away either. Agatha cleared her throat and took a breath. “I hurt you,” she admitted, “I fucked up, and I hate that I did. I told myself I didn’t care, but that was bullshit. I actually cared. I still care. I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“I think I just didn’t want to feel this. Whatever this is. Because I knew, sooner or later, it would hurt. And I don’t do well with things that hurt.” Agatha let out a shaky breath. “I spent so much time convincing myself that love wasn’t for me, that I didn’t want it, that it was just some fairytale crap that people clung to because they were scared of being alone.” She swallowed. “But then you showed up. And you made me want it. You made me want you, and that scared the hell out of me. Because wanting something that much means losing it would ruin me.”
Rio’s fingers curled tighter around the suitcase handle, her eyes glassy, but she still didn’t speak. Agatha’s chest tightened. “Please say something,” she whispered. She was already too far gone, too raw, too exposed. She almost took another step forward, but Rio lifted a hand.
“I’m still leaving. My flight just got rescheduled,” Rio said, and for a long, agonizing moment, they just looked at each other. “I just couldn’t exactly leave without telling you just how ridiculously stupid you are.”
Agatha felt the jab, but it really wasn’t mean-spirited as Rio’s eyes softened when she continued. “How ridiculously stupid you are for thinking you don’t deserve love. For thinking it was just some fairytale meant for everyone else.” Her lips quivered into something small, something fond. “Because I was just as stupid for thinking the same thing.”
She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against something familiar before she pulled it out. A crumpled, worn dollar bill. The one she had thrown away years ago. The one with Agatha’s number still faintly scrawled across it.
“But then this said otherwise.”
Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. “I thought you–”
“I thought so too,” Rio nodded. “Turns out Lilia, my old landlady, found it and held onto it all these years. She gave it to me earlier, and I thought I could just throw it away again, but–” Rio let out a breath, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve never been one for fate. Never thought the universe gave a damn about who ends up where.” She met Agatha’s eyes. “But somehow, no matter which way I run, every road keeps leading me back to you.”
She took another step. “But again, I’m still leaving,” Rio said. “And it’s gonna suck. The time zones, the distance, all of it. I don’t even know if –”
“I know.” Agatha swallowed, her fingers itching to reach for her. “And I would never ask you to give up your dreams for me,” she murmured, stepping closer as their hands brushed. “But if being with you means late-night calls and counting down the days until I can hold you again, then I’ll take it. I’ll take us in whatever way I can have you.”
She cupped Rio’s face, her thumb tracing gently over her cheek. “I’ve already spent three years waiting for you, missing you. What’s a little more…if it means a lifetime with you in the end?”
Rio let out a breathy laugh, her eyes misty with tears. “Look at you, Agatha Harkness, talking about lifetimes and getting all sappy in the middle of an airport.”
Agatha rolled her eyes and laughed. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
And Rio did. She crashed into Agatha, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her in as their mouths met in a messy, passionate, and desperate kiss. They could definitely feel how people were starting to stare, but neither of them gave a damn.
“Alright, lovebirds, we get it,” Jennifer drawled, wiping her own tears and snapping Agatha and Rio back to reality. “But some of us weren't ready for a public makeout session. And unless you want security to come over here, maybe let’s wrap this up?”
Alice, still sniffling, added with a grin, “It’s like The Notebook for lesbians, but with more tongue.”
Rio groaned, burying her face in Agatha’s shoulder. Agatha chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of Rio’s hair behind her ear. “How long until your rescheduled flight?”
Rio shot her a knowing look. “Few hours. Why?”
Without missing a beat, Agatha snatched Jen’s car keys right out of her hand.
“Hey!” Jennifer squawked, but Agatha was already stepping back, grabbing Rio’s hand.
“Grab a cab. You owe me for not answering your damn phone.” And with that, she pulled Rio into a run, leaving their two very exasperated friends behind.
If you had told either Agatha or Rio, two of the most emotionally stunted, commitment-phobic women in New York, that they’d one day be sprinting through John F. Kennedy International Airport like a couple of love-struck lunatics, they would have laughed, and rolled their eyes.
Because love is absurd. It’s absolutely stupid. It’s meeting the love of your life through her car ride with someone else. It’s scribbling your number on a crumpled dollar bill, losing it, and then having the universe chuck it back at you like a cosmic middle finger.
But just like the 92.6% of people statistically doomed to trip, fall, and land face-first into love, Agatha and Rio had also somehow beaten the odds. Even though love is illogical, messy, and makes absolute fools out of people, they accepted their idiocy gladly, so long as it meant they got to be idiots together.
Another three years later, in their flat in London, Agatha lay wrapped in Rio’s arms, their bodies tangled beneath the sheets as the soft morning light spilled through the curtains. She turned her head, watching Rio sleep, her eyes drifting to the matching silver bands on their intertwined fingers – something Agatha once believed she’d never have, let alone deserve.
Rio stirred, pressing a sleepy kiss against Agatha’s shoulder. “You’re thinking too loud again,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed.
Agatha let out a breathy laugh, her fingers skimming absentmindedly along Rio’s spine. “Am I?”
“Mhm.” Rio finally blinked awake, her eyes locking onto Agatha’s. A slow, lazy smile curled on her lips. “What’s going on in that overcomplicated brain of my genius lawyer wife?”
Agatha looked at Rio, her messy hair, the sleepy eyes, the way she always looked impossibly soft in the morning. It had been three years since she finally opened that email, graduated from Cambridge, passed the bar, and let herself believe she could have this.
All those seven-hour flights from New York to London in their first year, the two-hour train rides from Cambridge to Kew in the second. And then, on a random Tuesday night in their third, with a half-empty bottle of wine between them and Rio’s laughter filling their tiny flat, Agatha had looked at her, really looked at her, and said, “Marry me.”
No grand gestures, no rehearsed speeches, just the undeniable truth spilling from her lips like it had always been meant to be. And every missed call, every aching second apart. Everything had been worth it. Because in the end, it had all led here. To this life. To this love. To each other.
Agatha sighed, rolling onto her side to face Rio. “Just thinking about how stupid we were.”
Rio raised an eyebrow. “Were?”
Agatha chuckled. “Are.”
Rio smiled against Agatha’s skin, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Guess that means our kid’s stuck with two hopeless idiots for parents. Poor thing.”
Agatha hummed, pressing another kiss to Rio’s collarbone. “I honestly think he’ll be brilliant. Probably inherit your stubbornness and my so-called genius.” She smiled, her fingers tracing gentle patterns over Rio’s stomach beneath the covers. “A tiny, overachieving troublemaker with your charm and just enough of my impatience to keep us on our toes.”
Rio’s hand covered Agatha’s, her thumb brushing idly against her skin. “You think he's going to love plants as much as I do?”
“God, I hope so,” Agatha chuckled. “The alternative is him arguing his way out of bedtime or finding some legal loophole to avoid cleaning his room.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “He’s going to be an absolute handful if that happens.”
They both laughed, and for a moment, they just lay there. Then, after a beat, Rio exhaled and mumbled, “You think we’re both ready for this?”
Agatha did not answer right away. Were they? She glanced at Rio, the woman who had turned her world upside down, who made the impossible feel worth it, who was carrying their future between them. “Yeah,” she said, squeezing her wife’s fingers. “I do.”
“Really?” Rio asked, arching a skeptical brow.
Agatha chuckled again. “My love, we’ve survived fate’s twisted little game. And all those miscommunications. And both of us being too scared to admit how much we wanted this.” She squeezed Rio’s hand again. “Not to exaggerate, but we’ve already been through a lot. And somehow, we always make it work. So, this? This is just the next thing we’ll get right.”
Rio smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting. “You’re so annoyingly confident sometimes,” she said endearingly, shifting closer until their foreheads were touching.
Agatha smirked. “Well, someone has to be.”
Rio let out a little laugh, then reached up to cup Agatha’s cheek. “I love you, you know that?”
Agatha smiled, tilting Rio’s chin up with her fingers. “I know.” And then, without another word, she leaned in, closing the distance between them, capturing Rio’s lips in a kiss.
And above them, hanging on the wall, the framed two-dollar bills stayed right where they belonged, proof that love, no matter how many wrong turns it took, always found its way home.