“You’re talking in your sleep, my Sylvie,” said Simon.
Oh. She was in England. Alexander was not holding her on their brown couch. Alexander was dead.
Sylvie did not open her eyes. She knew it was wrong but she wanted to go back to her dreams. Alexander! Christ, she missed him. Almost every morning, before she got out of bed, she wished she could go back in time to one hour before he said, “I need some air.” Tears gathered behind her eyes as she imagined grabbing him and making him sit down. How could he be gone?
Simon opened the window shades and afternoon light poured into the room.
Sylvie rolled to her side. Her pain still felt so raw. Her friends told her to move on, but honestly she didn’twantto move on. She wanted to go back.
Alexander had found the strength to stay sober—that was his end of the bargain. And even though he was buried in a graveyard in Miami, Sylvie did not want him to be dead. She wanted to feel Alexander next to her, even just for a moment when she was half-asleep. She missed Alexander and she felt she owed him. She could—at least—have his ghost.
Sylvie sat up. Simon watched her. He waited for her to speak, and when she didn’t say a word, he went to her side. “Is it your mom?” he asked.
Sylvie shook her head. “Alexander,” she admitted. “I miss him. I miss…who I used to be. I was so hopeful when I was young.”
Simon exhaled. “I miss who I used to be, as well,” he said.
Sylvie nodded.
“We’re supposed to think it’s better, that this love means we weren’t meant to have the past ones,” said Simon. “But you and I know.”
Sylvie nodded. “Do you still love Thisbe?” she asked.
“I miss loving Thisbe,” he said. “I miss who I was before I knew what she would do.”
Sylvie felt her disassociation coming on—the room filled withimaginary smoke. She kissed Simon, pulling him into bed hungrily. Sylvie wanted roughness; she wanted to feel something physical—something that was solid and tangible. Simon’s breath, his hardness inside her, where she was wet. Sylvie pulled him inside her, arching her back, her fingernails scratching his skin, her legs wrapped around his back. Simon moved slowly and then forcefully, making a guttural sound. Her heart was beating so hard she felt it in her temples. It was so much. She was crying. Her blood was hot. His lips on her.
Sylvie did not leave; she stayed in her body.
4
Cleo
“I have a question,” said Danny, standing naked in the middle of their royal bedchambers.
“What is it?” said Cleo, applying lipstick to match her Hervé Léger bandage dress. She’d been unsure about the bright pink dress against her red hair but her personal shopper had insisted and Cleo was glad. “Have you seen my sandals?” she asked, finishing her makeup.
“Should I get an old-timey typewriter? Someone typed this Welcome Reception Menu card on an actual typewriter.”
“Can you put on some clothes?” said Cleo. Realizing she sounded mean and schoolmarmish, she added, “You’re too tempting.”
“Oh! Didn’t mean to tempt you,” said Danny, thrilled. He approached Cleo and hugged her close.
Cleo kissed him, leaving bright pink lipstick on his mouth. She’d once craved his body, his skilled hands and lips. But annoyance with Danny had extinguished her lust. He wanted more from her than she could give, and it was tiring to fail him, to wish she was sure about him, to love him less than he loved her.
Cleo took the cream-colored card. “Damson gin made with local plums and Cumberland Ale,” she said, reading aloud.
“And mini Cumberland meat pies,” said Danny. “How mini are we talking? How big is a full-sized meat pie?”
“Yum, though, Grasmere gingerbread. And oooh, caramel sticky toffee pudding!”
“Pudding at a cocktail party?” said Danny.
“Sounds messy,” said Cleo.
“I’m on a sugar fast, anyway,” said Danny, admiring his biceps in the bathroom mirror. Cleo touched his chest. He was perfect. His body was perfect. His adoration of her was perfect. His desire to have a family with her was perfect. So why had she just popped a birth control pill and swallowed it down with pink rose lemonade from the minibar?
“I need to shower,” said Danny. “Wait til you see my welcome reception outfit, babe.” He reached into his leather dopp kit and began removing tinctures and toiletries and skin-care serums. “By the way, you look amazing,” said Danny, looking at his own face and not at Cleo.
