Late Valentine Ch. 03

When he'd appeared in the bathroom not long after, opening the shower door, he'd asked me if I was ok and, for the first time with him, I'd lied.

'Yes, I'm ok,' I'd said.

'Sure?'

I'd nodded.

'They called when I was making coffee and I didn't want to wake you,' he'd explained, his earnestness plain in his eyes.

'They're missing you.'

'Maybe. I usually see them on Saturdays.'

I'd hummed, water running over me as I imagined the path of his real life in London without me.

'Room for one more?'

I'd nodded again, because I'd wanted the distraction of him, and he hadn't disappointed. Even as obvious as it was that he hadn't believed me, he'd moved his hands over my body with generosity and care, soaping me, rinsing me, light touches and strokes until I'd come on his fingers, his other hand gripping my shoulder to prop me up against the tile wall. I'd reached for him, but he'd declined, kissing my palm instead.

'We're not keeping score, Lisbeth,' he'd said as he'd turned his face into the stream of water.

+++

I'm sucking the last of the grease from my fingers, watching Elizabeth do the same and wanting to do it for her, when my phone jerks around in my pocket. I dig it out to take a look.

-Hey, how's Verona?

I frown.

'What is it?'

Her eyes look amber under the bright lights.

'Just Lizzie,' I reply, setting the phone onto the table before thinking it through, and, of course, she catches sight of the message.

'Verona?'

Her eyes are amused. I frown more.

'Yes. As in --'

'Romeo and Juliet. Yeah, I get the reference. She's still of the opinion I'm potentially fatal for you, then?'

I think back to the latest conversation on this topic conducted with my sister, the confusing mix of well-meant concerns and nosiness that'd left me almost stuttering with unfamiliar emotions. Mercifully, my phone twitches with another message, saving me from needing to craft an immediate answer for Elizabeth. I glance down at the screen.

-And Lorna's playing up again. On my way to sort it out now.

Followed, in short order, by a third message.

-Just tell me you haven't sought out a friendly priest yet. I have plans and high expectations for that event. And a great hat. X

My exhale sounds loud, even in this busy hole-in-the-wall place, home to the best fried chicken in the city, according to Elizabeth. Her face has taken on several other emotions in addition to amusement, but she lifts her chin and I wonder which of them she's about to vocalise, and whether I should have brought body armour.

'Who's Lorna?' she asks with curiosity, and not a little edge.

'Ah. Lorna is my mother. Our mother.'

'Oh?'

'Mm.' Before I'm aware of doing it, I've crushed the napkins into a tight ball, the cheap paper distressingly harsh in my palm. 'She's -- she can be a bit of a handful.'

'Do you need to call Lizzie back?'

'No. She'd have said if she'd needed that.' I sigh. 'I expect she just needs to pour oil on troubled waters at the home. It's a fairly regular occurrence.'

'Your mom's in a care facility?'

I nod, letting my gaze wander across the red and white checked tablecloths, concrete floor and exposed brick walls in search of something else to talk about.

'You look like I feel about my own mother, Rob.'

'Is that right?'

'It is,' sitting back in her chair. 'Anyhow, you ready to agree this was the best fried chicken you ever had?'

I raise my hands. 'I surrender,' and allow myself to bask in the shot of heat that passes between us, before composing a text to Lizzie.

-It's Chicago, not Verona. And it was a friar, not a priest -- not that we need either. But haven't we talked about this already? So stop... Hope it works out with Lorna today. You know where I am if you need me. Anytime.

+++

'And?'

I watch Antonio sliding bottles in and out of the chilled cabinet in search of a particular desert wine, his kitchen lights picking out the gentle pale browns of his hair, newly cut into a different style that has been catching me out all evening.

'And what?' I ask.

He straightens and gives me the side-eye, an effect much magnified by his glasses. 'Don't be a wiseass, Elizabeth. And. Rob. How's it going, now he's here?'

He loads every word with emphasis, like we used to, back when we were students in college trying to feel our way into a new adult world of relationships.

I bite my lip to stem the flow of otherwise unruly words that want out.

'C'mon, it's not a trick question, E. I have eyes, and can see for myself, but I want you to tell me just how great it is, because I'm stoked for you.'

'Right.' I try to read the wine label but it's upside down and, honestly, I don't understand why I can't tell Antonio about it. He might be my ex, but he's also one of my longest, closest friends. 'It's going really well,' I sigh. 'Really well. Scarily well. On the whole, anyway.'

'Uh-huh?'

'I'm just -- well, I surprise myself with the way I am with him, you know?'

'Nope. Expand.'

'He makes me cry.' I hold out my hand in response to the look of alarm in his face. 'No, not like that. I mean, I get so emotional. I hardly recognise myself.'

He exhales in a derisive huff. 'No, Elizabeth, that's you all over. Or, at least, it's how you used to be.'

I try to protest, but this time, he holds his hand up to stop me. 'It's true. Back in the day, if you weren't crying, you were yelling or laughing. Before you put on your corporate lawyer cloak, or whatever. You've just forgotten.'

'What?'

'He's woken you up, E. And I love it. I've missed my feisty girl.'

I look into his face. This was the boy I fell head over heels in love with in our first semester. We'd fallen into step with each other so easily it'd overridden all the other obstacles between us, and although I've often thought it might have meant we merged into each other too much and at too young an age, I hadn't ever considered whether I might have forgotten something of myself in the process.

'Feisty?'

'Yeah. Don't get mad at me for saying this, even though you have every right to be seriously mad at me for a ton of things, but I've been worrying about you for a while now. I mean, I guess it happens to all of us to some degree. Growing up and quietening down, you know? But you've been getting quieter and so serious, and -- hey -- just less like the woman I know.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah. But you going to London, and now this, with Rob -- it's like a re-boot. Plus, he's handsome and genuine, and looks at you like you're the fucking cat's whiskers.'

I smile and am probably blushing. 'A re-boot?' I scoff, then take a deep breath. 'I think I need to tell him about us, Antonio. Everything about us,' I add, in case I'm not being clear enough.

'Ok,' he nods, in his lovely, understanding way. 'But, wow. It sounds like it's pretty serious already, huh?'

I shrug. 'I mean, after one weekend in London, and now here? When I look at it that way, it sounds totally ridiculous, is what it sounds. But I -- it feels like I need to tell him everything, because if I don't, it feels wrong. Like I'm hiding something really --'

I grind to a halt. Antonio slides an arm over my shoulders.

'Something really important.' He tugs me into his side, his smell still so familiar to me. 'I get it, E.'

In those short words there's a world of history and understanding. My heart pinches painfully tight. He rubs his palm over the top of my arm.

'Oh, hey. What's going on?'

It's Seth at the door, with a sleepy-looking Marrec on his hip.

'We're just having a moment,' Antonio's words come out easy. 'What's going on here? I thought we had a deal, Marrec, buddy. You're supposed to be tucked up in bed and sleeping tight.'

'He woke up and heard strange voices downstairs, right, little man?' Seth looks every inch the doting father as Marrec nods his head emphatically and the wild black curls on his head bounce.

'Is everything ok?' Antonio chucks his son's soft chin but asks the question of Seth.

'Well, we're not being the most attentive hosts right now, but they seem like they're doing ok without us. In fact they're talking up a storm about different counselling approaches for grieving kids and green renovation techniques for old buildings, which wouldn't seem like a natural mix, but it seems to be working for them.'

'Hey, if I'm good at anything, it's knowing who's gonna get on with who. And just great timing that Hari and Hannah are visiting the city this weekend,' Antonio boasts as he lifts Marrec out of Seth's embrace. 'Think you can get back to sleep, huh, buddy?'

'Story,' is the reply.

'Another story? Shocker. I'll take him upstairs, Seth. Here's the wine you wanted.'

'You enjoying tonight, Elizabeth?' Seth asks me, taking custody of the bottle.

'Yes. It's always great to see you guys,' I ruffle Marrec's hair while the opportunity presents itself before Antonio takes him back to bed. 'I've met Hari before, obviously, but Hannah is great too. And their interests are a perfect match for Rob's. Honestly, architecture and property and childhood bereavement? You couldn't find a better match.'

'Freakish, right?' Seth laughs as sounds of Antonio blowing raspberries and Marrec's delighted giggle filter down from the stairs.

'I know. Much as I hate to inflate Antonio's sense of his own genius, but he is good at mixing people, isn't he?'

Seth doesn't reply, or at least, not directly. Instead he tips his head to suggest I walk ahead of him back to the dining room. 'We're going to miss you like crazy when you move to London, you know that, right?'

'Right. Same. But I'll be back and forth for work for a few months, at least. And you'll have to come visit. When was the last time you were in London for fun?'

'Visit? With three kids?'

'For a weekend, at least. Your mom'll take the kids for that long, won't she?'

'Maybe.'

And we share a smile, since we both know how hard it is for either him or Antonio to think of leaving the kids for even a few hours.

'Anyhow, it can wait until you two are over your honeymoon period. Wouldn't want to get in the way of all that bedroom stuff.'

I snort. '"Bedroom stuff"? That's how you're planning on explaining sex to your kids? They're going to be awfully confused.'

'Wait! Bedrooms are for sex? Shit, I think I'd forgotten that.'

'Cut it out, Seth, you're ridiculous.'

+++

She walks back into the dining room, sharing a joke with Seth, their faces creased with laughter.

'Who's having some of this desert wine? It's seriously good,' Seth holds the bottle aloft, like a trophy.

'Oh wait, we forgot to bring the cream.' Elizabeth says, scanning the table before doubling back on herself into the kitchen.

I watch her, as familiar with this house as with her own apartment. That had been obvious from the moment we arrived and it'd made me think about taking her to John's house, about what she had noticed about me there. I'm seeing how much she and Antonio love each other, how comfortable they are with each other, and I've caught myself trying to imagine how they were when they were in a relationship. An effort somewhat complicated by the fact that Antonio is married to Seth now. Hadn't I made some off-hand remark to Elizabeth about families being complicated places? Well, I should include friendships in that almost-profound statement of mine.

'Here,' she reassures us, taking her seat opposite me, setting down a jug of cream.

I wish I could touch her, but the table is too wide.

'So I guess we just dived into the serious stuff right off the bat, here, huh? But, so Rob, is this your first time here in Chicago?' Hari asks, in that earnest American way.

'No, not quite. I spent a couple of days here, must be more than twenty years ago.'

'Oh yeah? Like, travelling around when you were at college?'

I shake my head. 'No, although I was at that sort of age. No, I didn't go to university actually.'

Elizabeth raises her eyes to mine. She doesn't know this. We half-smile, acknowledging yet again how much and how little we know about each other.

'No? Isn't that unusual?'

'Hari!' Hannah frowns at him, but he lifts his hands up in that universal gesture of no harm meant.

'Yes, it was unusual in my school. I'd say almost all the boys in my year went to university. But I didn't really fit the mould. And when my father died I didn't have to fit into his ideas for me either, so I went directly into his business when I left school.'

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. He must have passed at a young age?' Hannah asks.

'No. He was in his fifties when I was born,' I keep the tone as light as I can, since dwelling on him isn't anything I want to do tonight. 'Anyway, I went to work for his business partner. A very nice man who taught me everything before retiring to Devon to run his own nursery and win gold medals at Chelsea,' and I laugh at the memory of David, as if his wide face and mischievous sense of humour were right here next to me.

'And that's the same business you have now? Property, and such?'

I nod. 'Yes. Although, these days, I find myself less interested in that side of it than I am in the charity stuff we've been talking about tonight. If it wasn't for the need to oppose the worst of the redevelopment plans for Soho, I might be thinking of handing it all over to someone else to run.'

Another quick look over at Elizabeth confirms her acknowledgement of this piece of information too.

'Oh, right. They're really ripping the heart out of that neighbourhood, or so I've read on a few blogs.'

I nod in agreement with Hari.

'Elizabeth, you made the perfect decision to take him on one of those tours of the L,' Hannah intervenes.

'I know, right? I wanted us to take one of their tours anyway, but when I saw we could take a tour around the Loop, I knew that would be the one he'd really enjoy. In London he's full of who owns which city blocks and little stories about the original landowners and builders, so it was a perfect fit.'

'You remember that?' I ask her, the feel of that cab ride out to Primrose Hill returning to me like a chill. I'd felt nervous again, worried that the evening out with John, the kids and my sister had been rather too much for Elizabeth, trying to gauge her mood as we'd driven through the dark streets.

'Of course. It was fascinating.' She rolls her eyes at me and I reach for her hand across the too-wide table, no longer caring if it's too much of a show or not. 'And that view was awesome.' She holds my gaze for a few seconds before turning to include everyone else. 'Robbie took me to see the view from Primrose Hill. Have you seen that?'

'A view? She's a sucker for a view,' Antonio announces, re-taking his seat and helping himself to spoonfuls of tiramisu.

If it was meant to sound an awkward note, no-one pays his comment any attention, Hari and Elizabeth meandering through a list of all the buildings to be seen from Primrose Hill while I sit back and muse over inviting Hannah to come to London to meet with some of the team at the charity to compare notes. Her research and practice with kids bereaved at the youngest ages has really caught my attention and I'm excited at the idea of sharing it more widely.

'How's Marrec?' Seth asks, offering a conciliatory-looking smile to Antonio.

'Asleep. Finally. If I have to read about that hungry caterpillar again I might eat the actual book.'

'What he said,' Seth laughs, jerking his chin at Antonio in such a way as to make the rest of us join in.

+++

He stretches his back, an unselfconscious movement I'm not sure I've seen him do before. I drop my purse onto the couch, watching him until he turns around.

'What?'

'You look good in my apartment, is all.'

He grins, a little pleased, a tiny bit shy, as if he's unused to hearing compliments. My heart drums out a belated warning.

'Was that ok? I really like Hari, but Hannah is great too, isn't she? I hadn't met her before tonight. They must be, like, the most compatible dinner guests for you --,' and I don't get to finish that sentence before he kisses me.

It pushes away my worries about how the evening has gone. Although he pulls back sooner than I'd like, a slightly careful look in his eyes. I switch one of the lamps on. The careful look is still there.

'So, was it ok, or did you hate it?'

His eyes gimmer. 'I enjoyed it.'

'But?'

'I'm not sure it's a 'but', exactly. More of a reckoning with the unfamiliarity of the entire situation. Of stepping into someone else's life so abruptly.'

'You have such a way of saying things, Robbie.'

He dips his chin. 'You know what I mean, though. I put you through it in London with my family, afterall.'

'Mmm. It feels so weird at this age, doesn't it? Intense, like there's more at stake.'

He doesn't reply, at least not in words, the blue of his eyes deepening as we stand here to one side of my couch as if on a stage, characters in a two-person play.

'Anyway, you can relax. I've no more plans for you this weekend. We're officially done.'

'None at all?'

There's a tiny bit of grit in his voice as he asks the question. I'm about to dismiss it, but then I don't. What had he told me on our last, long night of sleepy talk and electric sex in London, when I'd shamelessly cross-examined him about his sexual preferences? I return my gaze to his, slowly; a flush of excitement and nerves crawling up my neck. He holds my look, the slightest flicker around his mouth my only clue.

'Maybe there is just one more thing,' I say, pronouncing each word clearly yet softly.

'Yes?'

I run a fingertip along the edge of his shirt cuff, not quite touching his skin, but very aware of its warmth. 'Mmm.' I trace patterns over and around the cuff, not yet trusting myself to say what I want.

'Where would you like me?'

And, oh, those words, and all that's behind them and in them, act like a lightning strike.

'Bedroom.'

He turns, his elegance somehow heightened by what he's offering and I follow him into the room, heart truly hammering now, as thoughts of what I want to ask him to do scrabble through my mind. I buy myself time by loosening his cuffs, slipping them free of his cufflinks, running my thumb over the fancy 'S' engraved into the smooth, old gold.

'I'm beginning to get very attached to the way you undress me, Elizabeth.'

I smile, cupping the cufflinks before stowing them safely on top of my dresser, rolling his words around, wishing I could capture his crisp accent.

'I think I'm strangely attached to undressing you, Robbie. I didn't know it was a thing. It certainly hasn't ever been a thing before you.'

'Before me.'

His tone sounds contemplative. For now, I choose not to take the opening, because I want this intimacy with him first.

'Sit on the bed,' and fill my lungs when he does just that.

I start at his feet. Socks come off first. I don't have much interest in feet, but I touch his toes, one by one, laughing with him at his involuntary twitching before circling a hand around his ankle, and then the other. Skin, bone, tendons and hair. I slide my hand up his calf before shuffling closer, nudging his legs wider to make space for me, stealing a look at his face before tugging at his belt buckle. The sounds of metal and leather ignite parts of my brain and body like nothing else and I have to breathe more deeply.

His hips shift. I lower the zip of his fly, doing everything possible to avoid touching his body, drawing a frustrated exhale from him that, when I look into his face again, shows as tension at the corner of his mouth. Which tightens when I smooth my palms over his thighs, back and forth. Back and forth. He exhales. I move my hands just a little higher. He shifts his hips again, creasing the comforter beneath him. This time I let him see my pleasure at his impatience.