There was one silver lining to this situation, and I clung to it in the throes of my failed attempts at resilience: I wasn’t losing my mind.I wasn’t imagining it.
He was back.And he was talking to Lucas.
He was talking to Lucas.My body was catching up with the absolute wobbler my mind had thrown and wouldn’t be denied its own strop.I tried to move, but my heart climbed up my throat.I heaved over the toilet, my head trying to turn itself inside out.
Another knock on the door forced me upright, and I opened it, expecting to see Lakshmi bearing ineffectual orange soda, but instead it was—
“Oh, babe, are you okay?”Lucas’s brow furrowed over wide eyes.“Shit, do you have food poisoning?”
I shook my head, aware of the sweaty hair slapping against my damp forehead.“M’fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”He reached up to feel my likely clammy cheeks.“You paid your dues here.I think you could get away with leaving at this juncture.”
I started to protest, then realized what I was doing.After exchanging a nod with Lakshmi, I followed Lucas out of the shop, on to the dystopian car park, and all the way home.I let him drive, shutting my eyes and trusting that he’d keep to the left—and in his words, “incorrect”—side of the street.
“Can I make you some tea?”he asked once we were back at the flat.“English Breakfast?Or I guess, English Midnight Snack, as it were?”
“I’m really fine, love, you don’t have to—”
“Too late, I’m doing it.”He turned his attention to my utterly unrecognizable kitchen—I swear he’d somehow changed the color of the walls—and put the kettle on.“I ran into one of your old art teachers—Jean?I guess he’s an art dealer now, but it was nice of him to swing by and support you for the anniversary.”
I gripped the fabric of the sofa under me.It felt different, and in the eye of my panic storm I had the quiet realization that Lucas had done something to it, possibly fully reupholstered it.I bit my tongue to stay in my body.
Lucas made tea and then set a timer on his phone.I’d told him I preferred builder’s tea, and since then he’d been making sure to let it steep for exactly five minutes.God, he was adorable.He leaned back against the counter, giving me a shy and hopeful look.
“He also said he wanted to introduce me to the owner of this art gallery he works with and show her my work.Not that I have much of a portfolio.”Lucas took a deep breath, clearly trying to hide how excited he was.“But it’s the same owner that launchedPatricia Yang, and I can’t believe he’d use my name alongside hers.He said there’s a chance she might want to use my photos as part of her winter exhibition.Can you believe that?”
I could.I could all too easily.“That’s ...He said that?”I asked thickly.
“I know, right?My stuff is nowhere near that level.”Lucas was blushing and could no longer keep down his grin.“But, um.I guess the exhibition is in December, which might end up being moot if they hate me, but on the off-chance they don’t ...”He looked so hopeful, my stomach ached.“Something like that would mean I’d need to stay in London a bit longer—”
“Yes.”
By the time he realized I’d responded, I’d lumbered to my feet again, moving toward him and repeating, “Yes.Please.Stay.”
“Armand, careful,” he chided, arms around my waist to steady me.I leaned against him, pushing us both up against the counter.I kissed him, longer and harder than I should have, hoping he wouldn’t taste the desperation in it.
Lucas broke for air, laughing softly.“Someone’s feeling better.”Then he bit his lip and looked up at me anxiously.“You ...Are you sure you don’t mind?I wouldn't want to put you out if it’s inconvenient—”
“Inconvenient?”I rumbled, still trying to quiet the screaming inside me with the feel of Lucas’s hips pressed against mine, his hands now gripped in the back of my turtleneck, both of our burgeoning interests hot between us.“Love, I’d do anything to keep you here longer.As long as you want.”
I would do anything.I was going to do anything.
“You’re the best,” Lucas whispered, pulling me firmer against him, one knee slipping between mine, his lips teasing—
His phone alarm chirped.
Lucas held up a finger between us, my lips a breath away from his.“Tea time.”
I groaned performatively as he wriggled and twisted in my arms, turning toward the counter and the bloody tea, but staying nestled against me, his back fitting snugly against my front.I buried my face in his hair, his neck, breathing deeply and holding on tight to the man I’d do anything to keep.
Anything.
October 5
50 days sober
I let the blinds snap shut and almost groaned in relief.
