Lurielle was glad for his warmth as she dropped against him, laughing again. "I don't remember him saying anything like that. To be honest, I don't think either of you were saying anything all that different. You were just talking around each other and not listening to what the other was actually saying."
Khash scowled, his nose wrinkling as if the mere memory of that night was some foul-smelling swamp and he could still detect a whiff.
"I don't know, darlin’. I think there must be something in the water at your office. All your friends are dumping their ducks in dirty ponds. You best make sure you're packing your lunch and bringing your water from home."
She was laughing so hard at that point, words were an impossibility.You know him so well you’re even guessing his metaphors.Ris had mentioned that they'd seen Tate and Silva later that same night, and Lurielle could only imagine the tales traded between the two other orcs.Best not to give him anymore ammunition. Just eat your ice cream.
A year and a half ago, she would've berated herself for indulging in dessert, Lurielle thought, especially after stuffing herself with the vegetable lasagna he’d already removed from the oven when she came through the door from therapy.Hells, you would have given yourself shit about it six months ago.
When he’d suggested walking the dogs downtown to grab a snack, the old Lurielle would have demurred. That’s what Tev would have expected from her, what her mother had drilled into her for years.A lady always skips dessert, dear. A moment on the lips, forever on the hips!Instead, she’d pulled an oversized hoodie over her leggings and slipped on her sneakers without giving it a second thought.
Just that week, she had dashed out to the farmer's market, throwing on an old T-shirt and a pair of leggings without a second thought, as soon as she saw the farm's social media post for the day. Their first harvest of flying saucer-like squashes, available at the stand while supplies lasted. Cooking was not her forte, but there was a dish on the menu at Tate's bistro that Khash always ordered on the rare occasions they dined at Clover, one he said tasted exactly like something his grandmother made when he and his brothers and sisters were very small. He would grouse about the necessity oflining the pocket of that slippery snakewith every bite, but he would clean his plate each and every time. The squash at the farmer’s market that week was the same type used in the recipe, and she was going to do her best to replicate it.
When she had returned home, triumphant with her bag of squash, Lurielle had caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. Her leggings didn't leave much to the imagination, including the outline of her giant panties. Her T-shirt didn't hide nearly enough of her ass, and the capped sleeves cut off at what was probably the most unflattering place on her arm . . . and she hadn't cared a bit. She hadn't inspected herself in the mirror before leaving the house, hadn't attempted to tame her hair, simply used her sunglasses as a headband and walked out the door.
It hadn't mattered, and no one on the street stopped to point and stare, no one berated her, no one paid her any mind at all. She thought about how much time she had wasted in her life, obsessing over clothes that didn't cling to her stomach, doing her best to only purchase slimming fabrics, turning and turning and turning endlessly in the mirror and only finding fault with herself, her mother's voice an ever present chatter in her head.
She hadn't heard her mother's voice in weeks, she realized, swallowing a spoonful of her sorbet.Maybe in more than a month. Not since the night of Nana's party?After all, why would she stress over something as trivial as the size of her ass when she had much bigger things to worry about?
"How was your appointment, darlin'?"
Lurielle looked up from her spoonful of sorbet, surprised. Khash never asked after her therapy appointments. She'd attempted to explain why she felt her attendance was necessary exactly once, when he had cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.
"Bluebell, I don't need to know. Not unless you want to tell me. If you think it's good for you and it helps you see what a beautiful, brilliant woman you are, that's all I need to know. And you never need to feel like you have to explain. Not to me or anyone else."
Having him ask after it now brought her up short. He'd said nothing when she came into the house that evening, attempting to discreetly dump a handful of sodden tissues into the trash as Junie came charging across the kitchen, barking her little head off in greeting. The attempt had failed, as the badly behaved Yorkie instantly jumped up like a circus dog, filching the edge of one of the tissues and knocking the whole tear-and-snot soaked pile to the floor. He'd not said a peep about her puffy, red-rimmed eyes, only poured her a glass of rosé and served her plate of lasagna before plating his own helping, along with the steak he'd grilled up.
"It-it was fine. Good, I mean. It's . . . she's always good."
"I'm glad, Bluebell."
Her heart wobbled as he bent to kiss her, grape sorbet flavored the slide of their lips, the heat of his mouth searing her after the cold of her sorbet. The hand he stroked down her back was gentle, as if she were an injured animal in need of comfort, and Lurielle supposed that was likely exactly how she’d seemed for the last month.He knows you just as well as you know him. She dropped her head against him, taking a spoonful of the caramel ribbon from his own dessert. He didn’t know what was wrong, but it was clear something was off with her and he was letting her know he’d noticed.And he’s still not pressing you to spill your guts.
"Well, I think we should get these two home. I don't want that cute little button nose of yours to go freezing off on me."
“I love you,” she blurted as he extricated his arm from around her back, his dark brows furrowing. “Thank you for putting up with my friends’ terrible choices in men.”
Khash snickered as he pushed to his feet. She tried not to notice the way he groaned as he did so, favoring his left knee for the space of several heartbeats before taking her hand. She was not going to hyper-analyze the breakdown of his joints, wasnot going to do the quick math on his height and weight and bone density, and she was absolutely not going to compare his age with the average common lifespan.You’re not going to ruin every moment panicking over this.
“They’re your friends, Bluebell. You can’t help that they weren’t raised right. Besides, they have time to make mistakes and walk away. You Elvish ladies can make a whole bushel of bad choices and still have time to recover. So don’t despair. There’s hope for Silvia yet.”
Her mouth dropped open and her stomach somersaulted within her. It was the closest he’d ever come to acknowledging their vastly different life expectancies, a sign that she truly was the only fool in this relationship who’d not considered it more than a year ago. Despina was right. They needed to have a conversation.But not tonight. If you cry any more today, your eyes will be swollen shut in the morning and you have a fuck-ton of work on your desk.
Lurielle gripped his hand as they walked back to the car, Ordo and Junie getting their fill of fresh air and exercise, both dogs panting as they were loaded into the back seat. She could live three hundred years, five hundred years, and never tire of evenings like this. She was wrong, Lurielle decided. They didn't need to be anything like Ris and Ainsley. She would take some notes from her friend’s book, if not a full page. More outings, more memories, but she wouldn't trade in these quiet evenings together for anything. This was all she needed. The heat of his hand engulfing hers. The solid weight of him beside her. She never wanted to forget a second of these quiet moments.
When they arrived home, the lights in the house next door were dark.
"Good. He'd smell the ice cream on our breath and come sniffin' around, whining about us not bringing him one.”
“Oh, he wouldnot!”
Khash ignored her, grinning as he turned to the side of the house. “Why don’t you take them in the house, Bluebell. I've got some things to take care of out here."
The Fall Festival would be coming up soon, she thought, adding fresh water to the giant jug water fountain Ordo and Junie shared. It seemed like only yesterday that she was discussing attending the festival with Ris and Silva in the break room.
Last year, she and Khash had walked through the fair hand in hand, and the only comment he'd had to make about her fried cheese on a stick had been to ask for a bite, before getting a second one for them to share. They'd eaten all the terrible fried fair food, drank a vat of lemonade between the two of them, and a glass of cider, in honor of Silva being unable to attend, she'd told Khash laughingly. Neither of them were particularly fond of rides, a huge relief, although he had been quite insistent on winning her prize from the carnival midway.
They would do it all over again this year. The terrible food, the overpriced games, the farm stands and blue ribbon-bedecked barns of livestock, and at the end she would come home with whatever stuffed animal he'd won her.A memento of every event. You're going to write down every detail this year. Every little thing, no matter how insignificant it seems now.
