Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)

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The oven timer chimed softly, breaking the easy rhythm of sizzling oil and Emma's quiet hum against Abigail's neck.

Abigail glanced toward the stove and reached for the burner knob. "Alright," she said gently, "before you fully fuse yourself to me—go take a shower."

Emma lifted her head, blinking. "You kicking me out?"

"Absolutely not," Abigail laughed. "I just want you comfortable. Dinner still has a little time."

Emma smiled and pressed one last kiss into Abigail's shoulder before slipping away down the hall. "Fine. But don't finish without me."

Abigail shook her head fondly as the bathroom door closed and the sound of the shower filled the apartment. She turned back to the stove, flipping chicken carefully, stirring the mac and cheese, adjusting the greens. The kitchen felt alive—warm, familiar, full.

A while later, the shower shut off.

Emma reappeared wrapped in a robe, hair damp and curling softly around her face. She looked relaxed, clean, and just a little sleepy. She leaned against the doorway, watching Abigail work.

"You okay?" Abigail asked, glancing over.

"Yeah," Emma said. "Actually... I need to finish my lesson plans tonight."

Abigail paused. "Tonight?"

Emma nodded. "Monday's my first day teaching. Guitar, piano, performance workshop. I want to feel prepared."

Abigail's expression softened with pride. "You're going to be incredible."

Emma smiled shyly and stepped closer, resting her hands lightly at Abigail's waist. "Thanks, baby."

"Go work," Abigail said gently. "I'll come get you when dinner's ready."

Emma kissed her once, slow and sweet, then headed toward the bedroom with her laptop tucked under her arm.

While the kitchen filled with the steady sounds of cooking, Emma settled into the small office down the hall. The door was open, light spilling out into the hallway as she curled up in the chair with her laptop balanced carefully in front of her.

She worked through her lesson plans one by one.

Intro to Guitar.
Piano fundamentals.
Performance workshops and student showcases.

She adjusted timelines, added warm-up exercises, made notes to herself about pacing and encouragement. Every so often she paused, one hand resting on her stomach, breathing through a wave of tiredness before continuing.

From down the hall, she could hear Abigail moving around the kitchen—pots clinking, oil sizzling, the oven opening and closing. The sounds grounded her. Made everything feel steady.

Emma smiled to herself as she typed the final notes for Monday.

Welcome students. Make them feel safe. Music first. Confidence second.

She leaned back when she finished, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet sigh of relief. Done. Everything was laid out, organized, ready. The nerves she'd been carrying all week finally loosened.

She saved the file, closed her laptop, and sat there for a moment longer, listening to the apartment hum.

Then she heard Abigail's voice, warm and familiar, calling from the kitchen.

"Em, baby? Dinner's almost ready."

Emma smiled instantly. "Okay," she called back. "I'm coming."

She shut down the laptop, stood carefully, and smoothed her robe before heading back toward the kitchen. As she stepped into the doorway, the smell hit her fully—fried chicken, butter, cheese, cornbread.