I shrugged, rolling the amber around the crystal. A snowflake fell into the glass. It floated for a moment before giving over to the fire in the cup.
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He shrugged, mimicking me. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’m asking anyway.”
“Never stopped you before.” I grinned. “Her schedule’s been hectic. She’s tired.”
“Yeah,” he said on a nod. “She reminds me of a worker bee after honey. Never stops.”
We sat for a minute or two, watching the snow, savoring the burn on our tongues. I stared ahead, but I could feel his eyes on my profile before he turned them to the bottom of his glass. He downed it, then poured another.
“You were right—”
I held a hand up. “I hate that I was.”
He nodded. “She told me.” He rolled the liquid around the glass, swishing it some. The fierce smell of it wafted in the cold night air. “She told me that she had to lie to me, not because she was going to be evicted, but because I would have never committed to her otherwise.”
“Truth?”
“Yeah, man, the truth. I had no idea she could even string so many words together, especially the wordotherwise. She threw me for a loop.”
“Not much to talk about, ah?”
“Nothing.” He took a deep gulp and thenahhdafterward. “I think she’s a decent girl deep down, just got caught up in the mix of the lifestyle. She has some growing up to do.”
“Coffee pot,” I said, and downed another glass.
“Yeah, and I’m the fucking kettle calling the pot hot.” He sighed, long and hard. “She wasn’t right for me. I was being stubborn, you know?”
“I know.”
“A man has to have something to hold on to.”
“I know.”
“I lost the love of my life, man. I’m hollow.”
“I know that too.”
“I don’t know what to do.” He took a quick breath. “If you say ‘I know’ one more time, I’m going to lose the last shred of sanity I have left and snap. There’s no telling what I’ll do.”
I grinned into my cup.
“You used to understand. Now.” He shook his head. “Now you’re all domesticated. You even have a cheetie.”
“What the fuck is a cheetie?”
“A cheetie—it’s what the Scottish call a cat, man. Listen to your wife sometimes, she comes up with some interesting factoids.”
“I still have my issues. Even with a wife and a cheetie.”
He became quiet, and I finally looked at him. I thought maybe he’d follow up the comment with something along the lines of—don’t we all.
“I’m not going to argue with the truth. You do. But at the end of the day, you have Scarlett. You have meaning. You’re better than ever. I’m happy for you. Proud, in fact.”
I sighed and stretched my legs out. I watched as flurries twisted and swirled—after a while, my black boots started to turn white.
“You can have meaning too, Lewis.”
“I could have, Fausti,” he said.
