Into the Velvet

One Day After

Small fissures were beginning to appear. It would only be a matter of time before the cracks formed beneath, then for the floor to crumble beneath me.

Our time was numbered, and neither of us had any clue.

Being in a foreign place with a beautiful man made me feel brand new. That still didn't change the fact that I couldn't legally drink. Henry certainly could, and wasted no time doing so.

It was eleven-thirty in the afternoon. A late breakfast for us, but an early lunch for everyone else. We were finishing up our trip and putting away some food before our check-out time. For me, this constituted a plate of waffles with plenty of whipped cream. I couldn't finish it, but that wasn't the point — the syrupy goodness filled me with nostalgia, harking back to the days when Olly and I still ordered off the kid's menu. I kicked my legs happily under the table.

Henry's breakfast entailed a plain white omelette, his sugared coffee, and after that was sufficiently inhaled, a Bloody Mary.

"Seriously?" I asked once his drink arrived.

He shrugged. "Protein."

"I don't mean the eggs. I mean the drink."

"I'm nursing a hangover."

That was true. Henry had finished the sparkling wine in the fridge last night, and had been out cold by midnight.

"What's your hangover cure? Another hangover?"

He rolled his eyes, just as his phone began to ring. Wordlessly, without even looking down, he switched it to silent. Letting it ring through. My eyes tried to catch the screen – anything, any letter would do — but he was too quick and nimble.

He made an excellent strategist.

"Shall we get going?" Henry asked. He pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses and slipped them on. Hiding his eyes from the light. From me. "I'd like to beat traffic, if that's okay."

"You're not going to finish your drink?"

Words spoken too soon. With the tip of his chin, he finished the last three mouthfuls in one fell swoop.

"There. Better?"

Something had to be bothering with him. But after a night spent in each other's arms, warm and safe in our cocoon, I hadn't the faintest clue what that might be. So I squared my shoulders and put down my knife and fork, dapping the sides of my mouth, and rose to follow him out.

His swagger was, admittedly, still there — that faint sway from hip to hip which made him so distinguishable in a crowd. He'd grown quite relaxed in my presence. It warmed me to notice such changes, even as the opposite effect took place in me.

Henry's shadow had grown larger, more substantial, while mine was shrinking to accommodate. Taking up less room.

Henry never tipped. He didn't tip now as we paid for our things and left. Words were easy enough to swallow — so I kept my head down and got in his car. I wondered how many more ways I could nip and tuck the parts of myself that didn't fit. I wondered if this was the only way to love.

"I hope I made your birthday special." He spoke softly and evenly, breaking my train of thought. I looked towards him. But his head was turned away, distracted, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out of the carpark.

I kissed his cheek in thanks. "You did. No luckier lady has lived."

That made him feel good. He smiled in that lopsided, heartbreaking way. His hand finding his grip on my thigh. "Then I've done everything right."