Happiness is indeed in the bath that they take two days later in the Ledwell’s master bathroom, unwilling to wait until their weekend in Devon. Happiness is also in the park, where Loris draws his father’s spot while Charles translates out loud parts ofThe Mind of Wondersin Italian. It’s in the giant platter of nachos they share with Phoebe, Aliah and Andres, and in the banter Charles actively partakes in all evening. It’s in the Tottenham match Loris agrees to watch, and in every goal Charles misses, way more interested in the action he can get on the sofa. Happiness is even at the office, the morning Clifford announces that they won’t do business with the Milton-worshipper client in the end.
Charles is spiralling up, in a bubble so thick, he’s confident he would bounce back in case of a sudden tailspin.
Which might never occur, because Loris keeps on finding new ways to dig his dimples.
Charles slides closer on the restaurant bench seat and snatches Loris’ phone to enlarge the digital sketch on the screen. ‘This is incredible!’
‘I applied my usual style to the picture you sent, but I could attemptsomething new.’
‘No, this is exactly what I had in mind. This guy is Theo!’
‘Theo?’
‘Theodore was his middle name. I’m trying it out.’
Loris rubs his lips together. ‘We should stick with Fred.’
‘Why?’
‘I think you’re gonna regret it in the long run if we don’t.’
‘I was afraid you were about to bring up an ex called Theo… Yes, you’re probably right. But to be clear, when you say “long run”, you mean when we’ll top the UK book charts and talk about our creative process on TV?’
‘Totally.’
Charles spirals three floors higher and hardly resists kissing Loris. It’s unlikely anyone knows him in this Camden pizzeria, but he can’t risk it.
He would, if it were up to him. When Loris is wearing his blue low-neck jumper, Charles would confront shocked acquaintances with a ‘Oh, please. As if you’d turn him down!’ When Loris wears red as well. Black or white. His mocking smirk, his childish grin or his heart on his sleeve. Every moment they spend together lowers Charles’ worried reserve and increases his desire to boast about his luck.
Hopefully, he will get the green light tonight. If Elsy ever shows up.
Loris laces their fingers under the table. ‘I’m gonna ask Patty for old pictures of the pub.’
‘And don’t forget to ask her about the moustached horseman.’
‘You weren’t joking?’
‘This is a story about lonely painted souls escaping their frames. If the pub becomes the haunt where they plan art heists, the man who’s portrayed there should be involved. Oh, and could you also check with Patty that Saturday is still—’
‘I’m sooooo sorry!’
They clench their pint glasses a split second before Elsy lets herself fall in front of them in the booth, swinging her handbag over the table in the process.
‘I had to see Chris to inform him that we won’t hook up anymore, and we hooked up again. Forgive me.’ She fixes her hair and flutters her eyelashes. ‘Hello, Loris. I’m delighted to officially meet you. And to understand why I remember hitting on you the day we unofficially met.’
Loris grabs the hand she’s presenting palm down. ‘Hello, Elsy.’
‘And hello, darling.’
Charles pushes himself up to kiss her cheek. ‘You’re forgiven, but why can’t you hook up with Chris anymore?’
‘We’re in the same class. No way to avoid him when he’ll inevitably fall in love with me.’
‘I see…’
Charles doesn’t bite his teasing smile fast enough to escape a slap on his arm.
When a waitress approaches, Elsy orders a large glass of vodka with a shot of apple juice in it, then points a severe finger at Loris. ‘Are you taking notes? She didn’t ask for my ID. I remember that too!’
