“You have to do something else first,” Penelope said, sounding almost resigned.
“No. This isn’t one of those moments where you’re promised something that never happens because it always gets delayed. I’m serious, about this, and about…us.” She squeezed Penelope’s hand.
“That’s good. I’m serious about us, too.”
“It’s just…It’s not really my news to share, but I still think you should know as it affects you, too, and—”
“Just say it.”
“Francesca is dismantling the Collective.”
Penelope stilled. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I joke about that?”
“No, no. It’s just… Wow. Is it because she finally has theMadonna?”
“That likely makes it easier, but no. It was the accident. She said she almost caused us all to die, which she didn’t, but now she can’t do this anymore. She’s afraid our good luck has run out.”
“I understand.” She traced her finger along the rim of her cup.
“Yes, I thought you might.” Still, the idea of no Collective seemed almost unreal. Lucia didn’t regret leaving, but a pang of something heavy still echoed inside her at the thought of the Collective being done.
After all the chaos of the recent months, Lucia still sometimes marveled that she and Penelope had made it here, and while they’d stumbled a few times, they still strode along the same path, willfully and with a joy she’d not experienced before—not outside of her art.
“Are you up to watching a movie? I still feel kinda lazy.”
“Yes, of course. You should take things slow.”
“Not too slow, though.” Lucia leaned in and stole a soft kiss. “All right. What you in the mood for?”
“Nothing with crime or art or too much violence.”
Lucia suppressed a laugh. “Noted. NoGodfatherorDie Hard. I’m assumingShawshankRedemptionis out as well?”
“A movie about a prison break? Yes, I’d say so.”
“What aboutGroundhog DayorRatatouille? Or if you prefer something gay, we could watchBut I’m a CheerleaderorSaving Face?”
“It’s been ages since I sawSaving Face. Let’s watch that one.”
“All right. Popcorn or anything?”
“I’m still full, thanks.”
Lucia set up the movie and settled back on the couch.
A soft blanket lay across their laps, and the flicker of the screen lit Penelope’s profile in pale blue. During the film, they drifted closer until they lay tangled together, Penelope careful not to press too hard against Lucia’s still-tender ribs.
Halfway through, soothed by the warmth, Penelope’s nearness, and the dim lighting, Lucia drifted off—startling awake what felt like a second later.
“What?” She rubbed her eyes.
“You fell asleep.” Penelope pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Bed?”
Lucia nodded. “It’s been quite a long week.”
“I’d say it’s been more than a week.”
