Lili stares at her phone. Her hair falls back around her shoulders. Her phone’s buzz is muffled, its glass and steel vibrating in the tangled sheets. It seems alive, and wholly dangerous.
She can count on her hands the number of times her foster mom has called her since she graduated high school, and each time was prescheduled and pursued by Lili: discussing forms that she needed from Jane and Robert to prove her foster status so she could keep receiving undergrad financial aid from Columbia without requiring their tax forms each year; figuring out confusing health insurance mail—Lili had to be on Medicaid, since, as a foster, she didn’t qualify for Robert’s family plan—that kept getting mailed to Mill Valley instead of New York; organizing shipping logistics to send Lili the last few boxes of her stuff, since they needed to clear out her room, new kid coming in—that was a tense discussion, sophomore year, the sense of being erased so methodically and matter-of-factly it made her numb, gripping her phone as she tried not to cry, then going out and getting so drunk with Jamie that he threw up, she ended up swimming in Bethesda Fountain—
The call runs out, screen falling black.
Seconds later, a text notification appears.
She snatches up her phone.
Jane Remnick(6:13 p.m.) Hi Lili, I thought I’d try you. Nothing urgent, but give me a call when you can. It’s been a busy summer, but you’ve been on my mind recently. Would be good to catch up. Hope life’s treating you well.
She exhales a little unsteadily.
That’s—new. New, and—surprising. She’s not entirely sure how to react.
Lili shakes her head, brushing free of it temporarily. Later. She’ll deal with it later.
Getting out of bed, she makes sure her shirt buttons are done up—leaves her phone in the sheets—and pads out into the hall towards the voices in Aleksandr’s study.
“No.”
“I’m trying to protect you. You’ll regret it when this is over—”
“Michael, enough. I’m not having her sign an NDA.”
“Is this a midlife crisis? Is it? We can get you help for that—”
Lili knocks on the doorframe.
Looking up from his open laptop at his desk, Aleksandr smiles, catching sight of her. He’s pulled on a shirt, leaning over his desk with his hands pressed into fists. Over his shoulder, Michael scowls.
Lili resists the urge to stick her tongue out. “I’m heading out,” she says. “Amina has an art opening.”
Aleksandr walks over to her. “You mentioned you head upstate with work tomorrow, for the week?” he asks, settling his hands on her hair.
She nods.
“Come back tonight, then.”
Lili hesitates, suddenly on guard again. “Why?” she asks warily. They’ve moved past the need to discuss what happened, haven’t they? They don’t need to raise it again, do they? She isn’t being avoidant—but she doesn’t need to talk about it. She just wants to experience it.
He gives an easy laugh. “I’d like to spend more time with you.”
Her wariness melts a little. The feeling of the day lingers in her skin, a soft warmth throughout her body, insulating hope.
She wants that—more time with him.
Looking up at him, Lili smiles, and nods.
A grin breaks across his face, and he kisses her. It’s an unexpectedly deep kiss, and Lili stands on her toes, leaning into it.
A stern throat clears.
Aleksandr lets out a long-suffering sigh. Lili bites back a smile, before pressing a quick last kiss to his lips.
As she leaves, she hears Michael’s voice behind her, sharp.
“Aleksandr, why the hell do you smell like cigarettes?”
