Silva
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The freedom was intoxicating. She still woke up every day in her own bed; still made her coffee, packed her lunch, and went into the office each day. She still saw her friends, although she avoided the break room these days, preferring to eat alone at her desk with her e-reader propped in front of her. She wasn't interested in seeing Tannar, wasn't interested in making excuses, and wasn't interested in feeding the gossip train, and didn't want to hear entreaties from her mother delivered through him. It was the end of summer, the weather was beautiful, and even though her routine had not changed, she still woke up every day feeling as if the whole world was possible. She would take her tea up to the small area of the accessible roof on her building, where some of her neighbors had strung fairy lights and put up a table and chairs, and admire the sunrise — a swipe of apricot across the fading indigo sky, the sun rising in shades of pink and gold, leaving a cerulean sea in his wake.
Nothing had changed, yet somehow everything had. She still went to Greenbridge Glen every weekend, taking advantage of her office's hybrid policy to work from home up to two days a week, infringing on his space as much as she could.
At first, Silva worried that he would be annoyed having her there, but he’d scooped her up happily the first day she’d arrived on his doorstep and so far her fears had gone unfounded. After the first day, she showed up in the middle of the week — finding his office at Clover impossible to focus in, covered as it was in notes in his handwriting, checklists and order forms, a picture of him drawn by Cymbeline's two small children, and the small yellow thank you note she had sent him after receiving the Heart's Day flowers he'd sent to her office, pinned to the wall with the card inside, but present nonetheless — he had created a small office space for her at his apartment. A lovely, cabriole-legged table and glass shaded lamp, an extra-long charging cord, and a soft cushion for her chair. She had snapped a photo of their entwined legs — slender lavender and long green — on her phone one morning, shortly before his alarm went off, posting it on her social media later that afternoon, fully aware of the scandal it would create, a bubble of giddiness making her float through the rest of the day. She insisted on him taking nights off, exploring the restaurants in Starling Heights, not as nice as Cambric Creek in her opinion, lacking in both atmosphere and quality, but doing things together in public as a couple made up for the inability to do so in the town she loved.
Her mother had evidently decided to treat her emancipation as a temporary phase she was going through. She knew things weren't done; knew she was merely giving her family a taste of what would potentially happen if they pushed her hand. She still lived in her apartment, the rent for which her parents paid. Still drove the car they had bought her when she’d come home from school, still used the credit cards whose bills she'd never once seen. She knew that this was merely a muscle flex, and that her mother was giving her some latitude to get it out of her system. Silva had no doubt there were whispers at the club, no question that her absence at the ladies' club events had been noted, but, she rationalized, she was not the first elf at the club to go dabbling out in the wide world for a time. She supposed at least half of the families who were members could say the same about one of their children, a small-scale scandal that was quickly swept under the rug and forgotten about as soon as the lost lamb was returned to the flock. She was determined to not be included in that number.
She had found it easy to slip into his life, already familiar with most of his routines. It wasn't as satisfying as slipping him into hers, was certainlynoteverything she wanted, but it was good enough for the moment. It broke her heart every day to know that she was likely hurting her grandmother and disappointing her parents, but when she slid into his bed several nights a week, tucked against his chest with his hands in her hair, the trade-off was unthinkable.
It was one of those brilliantly sunny days, when she had put in to work from home, which meant working in his home, that she learned about the party. She'd come downstairs to stretch her legs, expecting to find Rukh leaning on the bar, and instead, finding Ainsley and Elshona sitting at one of the low tops in the back room, whispering conspiratorially. Ainsley looked up sharply when she entered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, clearly not expecting to see her.
"Lamby-dove, did you justteleporthere?!"
Silva forced her mouth into a smile. She knew his friend didn't like her, but she had no idea what she could do to change his mind. She didn't feel that she had ever done anything to specifically offend Ainsley, and if she thought about it long enough, Silva found the whole situation incredibly annoying. Ainsley and Elshona were his friends, histruefriends, even though Tate and the orc woman seemed at odds most of the time. She had happened upon Thessa and Cymbeline whispering over the increasingly contentious relationship between owner and chef, glad to know that it wasn't merely in her imagination, and slightly panicked that she had anything to do with it all.
"You don't, Silva, don't worry," Cymbeline had assured her quietly one afternoon. "This has been going on long before you came on the scene."
The fact that neither Ainsley or Elshona seemed to care for her presence rankled in her mind, as if it were a mark against her she wasn't able to erase, no matter how friendly she tried to be.
"I'm working from home today," she smiled. "I'm hoping I'll be able to get him out to touch some grass at some point this evening. Last week I got him to actually take the whole day off, and he worked in the garden all afternoon. It was sort of cheating, because it still technically work, but at least he was outside getting some fresh air." She had learned of the rooftop garden back in the spring, an ambitious effort he and Elshona had started several years earlier, which they had let slide to the wayside as Clover’s business increased. Silva watched as the two orcs exchanged a look, clasping her hands and wishing she had decided to just stay upstairs. She was unused to being disliked, didn't know how to change their opinion of her, and frankly, she was tired of trying.
"Silva, we need your help," Ainsley hissed, motioning her to take a seat at their table. "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier! You're the perfect person to get him away for the day."
"We're trying to plan a party, lamby," Elshona explained in a low voice. "A surprise party. But that requires him being away so that we can get all the details set up and have people arrive."
Excited butterflies fluttered through her at the thought. "A party for Tate?" Planning parties was, after all, a bit of her specialty. She had been on the planning committees for dozens and dozens of large-scale events over the years at the club, knew the importance of having supplies and food booked early, of how to plan for pitfalls and last-minute changes, and the thought of doing so for him elated her. "I'd love to help! Tell me what I can do!"
"We already have just about everything taken care of," Elshona went on. "The kitchen is taking care of everything, we already have the liquor ordered and paid for so he doesn't blow a gasket. I've got a diversion all set up in the dining room the day of the delivery to keep him occupied while Rukh and that new boy get things to the cellar. Ains is in charge of the guest list."
"All we need is for you to get rid of him for the day. An overnight trip would be ideal."
Silva felt herself deflate, wondering if they could see the air and excitement leaking from her, leaving her small and useless before them. Of course, they had planned the whole thing without her.
"Oh," she said in a small voice. "Oh . . . okay. I'll think of something." She pushed up from the table, feeling her neck heat, wishing she had just stretched her legs upstairs. "You'll have to give me the date, if I'm allowed to at least know that." She turned out of the room without looking back, her hands balling into fists. They wanted her to get him out of town. She had a good mind to take him away, and not bother coming back.
