Friday evening arrived with the weight of a sigh released. The office had accepted Sophie's new title with more grace than she had dared to hope for, and though the week had been full of congratulations, briefings, and small adjustments to her new authority, she felt lighter than ever. Still, the thought of one more night in the city, with its sharp lights and sharper expectations, seemed tiring.

Margo must have sensed it. As they left together, Margo's hand brushed against Sophie's in the elevator and she said in that calm, unarguable voice: "Pack an overnight bag. We're leaving the skyline behind for a while."

"Where are we going?" Sophie asked, curiosity sparking.

"My lake house," Margo replied. "Secluded, quiet. No one to overhear us. No one to remind us what day it is. Just... us."

The idea settled over Sophie like a blanket warm from the dryer. "That sounds perfect."

⸻

The drive took them out of the glowing veins of the city, into softer roads that wound past fields and clusters of trees. Sophie sat with her hand resting on Margo's thigh as music hummed low from the car's speakers. There was a peace to the silence between them, the kind that comes from being understood without needing to fill the air.

By the time they arrived, the lake was silvered by moonlight, the small house perched on its edge like something belonging to another world. Margo unlocked the door, ushering Sophie inside with a hand at the small of her back. The air smelled faintly of cedar and lavender—Margo's doing, no doubt, even in a house rarely used.

"Welcome to my escape," Margo said, setting her bag down. "Do you like it?"

Sophie turned in a slow circle, taking in the wide windows that looked out over the lake, the shelves lined with books, the stone fireplace. "It feels... like breathing," she said truthfully.

"Good," Margo murmured. "That's what it's for."

⸻

They cooked together, a simple meal of pasta and fresh vegetables they'd picked up at a roadside market. Sophie chopped tomatoes while Margo stirred the sauce, their shoulders brushing in the cozy kitchen. At one point, Margo reached for the olive oil just as Sophie did, their hands colliding, fingers tangling.

"Careful," Sophie teased softly, "possessive even over the oil?"

Margo's lips curved into a smirk, but her voice was low, meant only for Sophie. "I'm possessive over you. The oil can fend for itself."

The words sent a rush of warmth through Sophie's chest, and she leaned in to kiss her cheek.

Dinner was laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional brush of knees beneath the table. They opened a bottle of red wine, its rich flavor deepening the evening into something warm and languid. Afterward, they carried their glasses to the couch by the fire, curling up with the easy closeness of people who belonged to one another.

⸻

At first, they talked—about their time in university, about the people they'd become since then. Margo confessed, almost shyly, that she had noticed Sophie even back then, admired her laughter across crowded lecture halls, memorized the shape of her handwriting on borrowed notes.

"I thought you were untouchable," Margo admitted, her fingers tracing absent circles on Sophie's knee.

"And I thought you didn't know I existed," Sophie said with a soft laugh.

"Oh, I knew," Margo whispered. "I always knew."

Something in her tone turned the air electric. Sophie set her glass aside and shifted closer, her knees pressed against Margo's thigh, her gaze steady. "Then why didn't you do something about it?"

"Because I wasn't ready," Margo answered honestly. "Because wanting you scared me more than anything else ever had. And because I knew... once I had you, I'd never let go."

Sophie's heart thudded, equal parts fear and thrill. She reached up, cupping Margo's face in her hands. "Then don't let go. Not now. Not ever."

Margo's breath caught, and then she was kissing her—slow at first, as though savoring a long-awaited secret, then deeper, hungrier, years of restraint unraveling at once.

⸻

The kiss spilled into touches, into the kind of passion that felt both inevitable and brand new. Margo pulled Sophie into her lap, her hands firm at her waist, her mouth fierce against hers. Sophie responded with equal fire, fingers tangling in Margo's hair, soft gasps swallowed between them.

When Margo pressed her back against the cushions, Sophie welcomed it, her body arching beneath the weight and warmth of a woman who had once seemed untouchable herself. The fire crackled, casting shadows over skin, over whispered names breathed like prayers.

But even in the heat of it, there was gentleness. Margo's hands slowed, her lips softened, and she pulled back just long enough to meet Sophie's gaze. "Are you sure?" she asked, voice raw with restraint.

Sophie cupped her cheek, smiling through the rush of her heartbeat. "I've never been more sure."

That was all the permission Margo needed. She kissed her again, pouring years of longing into the taste of her mouth, into the slow unraveling of buttons and zippers, into the slide of skin against skin. The night stretched around them, full of sighs and laughter, tender touches and burning kisses.

Time blurred, and when at last they collapsed together beneath the blanket, bodies tangled and hearts pounding, Sophie felt more alive than she ever had.

Margo held her close, pressing kisses to her hair, her temple, her shoulder—everywhere she could reach. "Mine," she whispered fiercely, though her touch was reverent. "You're mine."

"And you're mine," Sophie answered, her voice steady with love. "Don't you dare forget it."

⸻

The rest of the night was quieter—gentle, healing. They lay facing each other, hands entwined, breaths slowing in rhythm. Sophie traced idle patterns along Margo's collarbone, smiling softly at the way her eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

"I didn't know it could feel like this," Sophie admitted. "Like passion and peace at the same time."

"That's because it's us," Margo murmured, kissing her forehead. "We don't burn to destroy. We burn to keep warm."

Sophie nestled closer, her head tucked beneath Margo's chin. "I like that. Our fire."

"Our fire," Margo echoed, holding her tighter.

⸻

Morning came wrapped in golden light and the quiet lapping of the lake against the shore. Sophie woke first again, marveling at how Margo's strong, capable features looked so serene in sleep. She pressed a kiss to her lips, soft enough not to wake her, and slipped out of bed to make coffee.

When Margo finally joined her, wearing one of Sophie's shirts as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Sophie laughed in delight.

"What?" Margo asked, smirking at her amusement.

"You," Sophie said simply, eyes shining. "You're beautiful like this. Unarmored."

For a moment, Margo looked like she might argue—but then she stepped forward, took Sophie's face in her hands, and kissed her slow and deep. "Only for you," she whispered.

They spent the morning wandering the lakeshore hand in hand, the world feeling impossibly far away. Sophie skipped a stone across the water, laughing when it sank almost immediately. Margo tried and fared only slightly better, then claimed, with mock gravity, that CEOs were exempt from athletic expectations.

When they returned to the house, Sophie leaned against the doorway and watched as Margo set a fresh sunflower into a jar by the window, brought from the roadside market. The sight filled her chest with quiet joy.

"This," Sophie thought, "is what I want forever."

⸻

That night, as they curled up before the fire again, Sophie laid her head in Margo's lap, eyes half-closed with contentment.

"You once told me you weren't ready before," Sophie said softly. "But do you know what I think?"

Margo stroked her hair, waiting.

"I think everything had to happen exactly this way. Every step, every choice. So that we could arrive here, together, right when we needed to."

Margo's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed, slower, more tender. "You're right," she said quietly. "I don't regret a thing. Not if it led me to you."

Sophie smiled, tears pricking her eyes. "Good. Then let's promise something."

"Anything."

"Let's never stop choosing each other. No matter how busy, no matter how loud the world gets. We come back to this—our fire, our quiet."

Margo bent to kiss her, sealing the vow. "Always, Sophie. Always."

And in that promise, wrapped in both passion and peace, they found a home more enduring than any title, any city, any lake house could ever give.