He drops his head back onto the pillow and hums softly as I part his cheeks and lower my tongue.
It turns out that leaving the housing department is a much more involved process than it was to get the job here. There’ve been a head-spinning series of farewells, two team nights out, and several office get-togethers that have required cake and speeches.
Anna has been crying all day intermittently, and to my surprise, I’ve caught Bev welling up a couple of times as well.
“It’s just that you have such a great career path here, Lennon,” says Anna.
It’s her seven hundred and fourteenth attempt to get me to change my mind about resigning, and that’s a conservative estimate.
“I know, An,” I say quietly to soften the blow, “but don’t forget, I have my store to think of.”
I took Connor to visit the store a month or so ago. I showed him around and introduced him to everyone, and we ended up staying there for a couple of hours. Needless to say, Connor loved it and found his way straight to the backroom. In a matter of minutes, he’d unearthed a vintage skateboard I’d forgotten I owned. He has plans to thrift a few more and mount them on the living room wall. God help me.
I spent some time catching up with Todd and the rest of the team—and yes, I did say something about the narrow block letters, but Connor said I was very nice about it.
Going to the store was something that had been hanging over me for a long time. A watershed moment. A symbolic stepinto the future. My therapist, Kell, and I talked about it a lot beforehand, running through scenarios and making sure I had the tools to handle it.
Still, it wasn’t easy being back. It was hard because there’s a lot of Havi under that roof. There are memories of him everywhere. Memories of when we started out. Tiny victories and big wins. Good days and bad days. Mundane things too, everyday things, like the cash register that jams if you close the drawer too hard. It drove Havi crazy, but neither of us ever got around to fixing it.
Now, I’m planning to leave it broken for a while. It’s a little reminder that things don’t always work out how you want them to. People aren’t perfect, nor is life. I’m still working on it, but there’s a glimmer on the horizon. A vague outline of an understanding that’s getting a little clearer every day. An understanding that one day, one fight—even if it was the worst day, the worst fight we ever had—can’t erase a love and friendship that spanned years.
I’ve also come to understand that while there’s a lot of Havi in the store, there’s a lot of me there too. Important parts of me. Parts I lost for a while. Parts that are woven into the fabric of my story and that shaped me into the person I am. Those parts matter, and they can’t be forgotten any more than Havi can or should be.
After that first visit, I went back the next weekend, on my own, and stayed a little longer.
The next Saturday, I was there when the doors opened, and I didn’t leave until closing.
“I just don’t get why you’re finishing on a Thursday,” Anna grumbles. “You’re robbing us of a day with you.”
She knows exactly why. “I have a vacation day to use, and it’s Connor’s birthday tomorrow, remember? We have plans together.”
“I see,” she laments. “What are you doing?”
Technically, when I asked Connor what he’d like to do for his birthday, he said he wanted to stay in bed all day and flip fuck. He said he wanted us both naked, from morning till night, taking turns fucking each other.
He went into alotof detail about how he wants it all to go down, and let’s just say, I’m really on board with the plan.
I don’t think it’s an appropriate topic for the workplace, though, so I smile sheepishly and make a weird, noncommittal sound. “Oh, uh, just, you know, dinner with our families.”
Technically, it’s true. My family is meeting Connor’s for the first time this weekend. If the way they feel about Connor is anything to go by, they’re going tolovehis mom and dad.
“Incoming,” mutters Blake, scarcely looking up.
A rumple of baggy jeans and an even baggier T-shirt flops down on the chair in front of my station.
“Hey, Sophie,” I say brightly. “How are you today?”
“Ugh, you know.” She makes a so-so gesture with her hand and drops it onto her lap.
As always, her front teeth are exposed, mouth twisted in a slight snarl.
“Is Allie still spending a lot of time in her room?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed about it.
I think about what Connor said when I told him about Sophie, and I think about the grace he’s shown me. I think of all of the different ways he makes me feel seen, and how they’ve saved me.
I look at her again, and I don’t see a snarl. I see the traces of sadness she’s trying to hide.
