Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
At a few minutes past midnight, I slip into my jacket and push out the door of Ivan’s. My stomach’s in knots. The streets are quiet, and it smells like wet pavement. The rain’s just let up. Across the street, I spot Florian’s car. Glancing both ways, I trot across the empty street to him.
“Hey. Thanks,” I tell him once I’ve placed his flowers in the back and settled into the passenger seat. The leather seat creaks.
Florian smiles. He reaches out to brush my cheek with a soft touch. I shudder, then lean in to kiss him. His fingers are warm against my skin. I lean into his hand.
“I don’t even know where we go from here,” I confess.
“Well, I’d say home, given the hour.” A very pragmatic Florian statement if there ever was one. “The real question is, do you want to come to mine, or do you want to be dropped off at home in Euston?”
I blink. “You remembered that I lived in Euston?”
He gives me a very Florian expression and the eyebrow. “Of course I remember. You told me you moved from where you were flat-sitting in Mayfair. And where you attempted to kidnap me.”
Despite myself, I laugh. “I did not kidnap you. We happened to get stuck in a lift. That’s not a criminal act.”
Florian smiles again and starts the car. “Okay. Where am I driving?”
“Well… how about yours?” I redden. “To, um, talk.”
“Yes. Talking would be fruitful.”
“You’re totally doing that on purpose,” I complain, gesturing at him as he pulls away from the curb. “Being so…”
“So…?”
“You. Which I do like, by the way. At least most of the time. Even if you’re doing something I really hate.”
“Well, let’s have some tea, and we can talk—”
Which is about when I slide my hand onto his thigh, and I’m rewarded with his shiver. I keep my hand there. “I love talking,” I say breezily.
Florian coughs and keeps focused on the road as he navigates the streets. Which is when his phone rings, and he answers on speaker with a voice command. “Gabe? Is everything alright—”
“No, everything’s not alright!” Gabriel sounds desperate and breathless.
Florian’s jaw tightens, as does his grip on the wheel. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m—I’m in Covent Garden somewhere—and everything’s too much, Florian. I don’t know where I am, and you’ve got to come get me, please!” Hysteria’s plain in his voice. In the background, we can hear traffic. “There’re too many people!”
“Breathe. Don’t move. What do you see around you?”
“I don’t know! I told you, Flo, Covent Garden! There’re restaurants and a sign about the Royal Opera House and fuck, I don’t know, did I say too many people—”
“I’m on my way,” Florian says firmly, his jaw set. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Stay right where you are.”
“Okay.” He sounds panicked. “I need you, Florian—”
“It’s going to be fine. Don’t hang up.”
Then there’s the sound of something like snuffling, and the line goes dead.
“Fucking hell,” Florian erupts and calls his brother back twice before he answers again.
“Sorry—sorry—I was just looking for tissues—”
“Please don’t hang up. I’ll be there in five minutes. Are you staying put?”
“Yes.”
Before long, we pull up onto Bow Street, and Florian pulls into a loading zone.
A tall man hurries over, looking distraught.
He’s handsome, with dark hair like Florian’s, except his hair is longer and wavy and more stylish.
He’s well-dressed and crying, which I can see when he slides into the back seat.
“Oh my God, Florian, I didn’t realize you have company, I’m so sorry—” He gulps down air, then turns to me, his hand on my shoulder. “I’m very sorry to interrupt whatever it is I’m interrupting. Of course you have a life—I’m so selfish—”
“It’s okay,” I assure him quickly. “This is important. I mean, I have problems with anxiety, so I understand a little—”
“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” Gabriel bursts into fresh tears.
“What happened?” Florian demands in a rush.
“I—I panicked—”
“Were you out alone?” Florian presses. “Were you out with friends?”
“I—sort of? Lou—Lou ditched me.”
Which unleashes fresh tears.
“Fuck Lou, whoever they are. Okay. Breathe,” Florian tells him, glancing over his shoulder. “This is the plan. I’m going to drop my friend off at his place. Then we’re going back to mine. And you’ll tell me then what happened. Does that sound alright?”
“Yes,” says Gabriel, contrite. “I’m sorry, Flo. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
“It’s okay. I’m just fucking worried about you.”
“Sorry.”
I glance back at Gabriel after he goes quiet. He’s wiping at his eyes with a tissue, then blows his nose. Florian turns the radio to classical music as we drive to Euston once I give Florian my address.
As we pull up in front of my house and I go to get out, Florian clears his throat. “I’ll text you details about the gala,” he says. “And you can let me know if in a few days if you wish to attend as my plus-one.”
“Okay. Thanks for the lift. We’ll catch up another time.” I give him a reassuring look.
Florian gives me a wry look. “Good night, Matty.”
“Night. And, um, good night, Gabriel.”
“Sorry again to be a mess and interrupt your night,” Gabriel entreats, looking intently at me. He pats my shoulder. “Oh, don’t forget your flowers? These aren’t for me, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.” I flush and take the offered flowers in their bag.
I slip out, and as I glance back when I unlock my door, feeling bittersweet as I hold the flowers he gave me, Gabriel’s taken the front passenger seat. They talk for a moment, and then Florian drives away.