Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
It turns out I end up having my own mental health crisis. Mum takes me to A&E in Brighton, and I’m admitted into the psych ward as an outpatient for depression and anxiety after my breakdown.
I begin meds and therapy and start to talk about how lost I am.
The medication makes the days hazy at first. My parents watch me even more closely than the twins, who, in turn, decide they will take care of me when they’re home from school.
It’s awkward and charming to have their focused attention.
I don’t know how helpful they are, but knowing they love me does help.
Leila’s more sensible company. It feels grounding to be surrounded by my family.
Every weekday, I go through a carefully structured routine to head to the day’s therapy session. And gradually, I start to feel like myself again, rather than like I’ve been going around in a borrowed body.
Soon, I start working again at the pub. Simple tasks at first, like bussing dishes and restocking the kitchen. Helping clean at night. Then I gradually move to work behind the bar.
It’s the middle of October before I can go into my studio again.
Before I start sketching again. After a few weeks of medication adjustments and therapy, I’m finding my legs once more.
And soon, I want to paint, in a way I haven’t felt since I was at uni.
I return to painting summer in Brighton.
And I begin to work to make a collection of paintings in a series, like Noah told me in the past.
In November, I’m back to feeling more like myself.
I visit with my Brighton friends again, and I start looking for work once more in London.
But this time, on a much sturdier foundation and with a much better bank balance after a few months of working at the pub, the sale of the paintings to Florian, and a portrait commission for a family friend.
I find a flat share in Marylebone this time, near three parks: Hyde Park, the Regent’s Park, and Primrose Hill with its iconic view over London. Which makes me think of Florian. And the green spaces help when I feel homesick for Glynde.
Aside from receiving payment for the painting at the price Florian offered, we decided at the time to go no contact. It would be easier for me.
Or, at least it was, for a couple of months.
I’m fully moved into London by the end of November, and with a new job at an art supply shop where I’m much more in my comfort zone. Early on a Friday afternoon, I decide to reach out to Florian when I’m sitting in my new studio and text if he would like to meet.
The familiar anxiety tap dances in my stomach, but now I know what to do to keep it at bay.
To take in deep breaths. To look at the world around me.
Focus on a car passing in the street. Feel how cold the early December air is against my skin.
How colorful the flowers are in the window of the florist’s.
And then I feel more connected again to my body.
My navy wool duffle coat, a vintage find in Brighton from my uni days, is buttoned to my chin. I have a red scarf wrapped around my neck. Florian asked me to meet him in front of Liberty, the Tudor-style luxury department store. He said it was near his office and an easy spot to meet.
I’m absorbed by looking at the artful window displays, then by the display from the florist. There’s a tap on my arm, and I turn to see Florian holding a stunning bouquet of white roses.
He’s dressed in a long black wool coat, perfectly tailored to his body with a black-and-ivory checked scarf.
His eyes crinkle at the corners the moment he sees me, and his face lights up.
“Florian.” My heart leaps at the sight of him, the familiar scent of his cologne.
“These are for you, gorgeous. I hope you can forgive me the indulgence. I couldn’t resist. I thought of you when I saw them.”
“They’re incredible,” I marvel, taking the armful of bouquet from Florian in awe. I lean in to inhale their luxurious scent. For a moment, I’m taken back to summer in the garden in Glynde. I search his eyes.
We shift to stand out of the way of the people streaming in and out of the shop, getting ready for Christmas. In the late afternoon, the sky’s darkening, and Christmas lights are coming on. Summer was, after all, a lifetime ago.
“You won’t believe how happy I am to see you,” I murmur.
Florian practically glows. “I was so happy when you messaged me.”
“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. I figured odds were good you were busy, away, or something. Or… might not want to see me.” I falter.
“I will always want to see you,” he murmurs, giving me a sidelong glance as we walk.
We soon make our way to a high-end, inviting bar with beautiful, vibrant original paintings and welcoming decor.
Florian’s made a reservation, and there’s a table waiting for us with a plush sofa.
After we order cocktails and settle in, the roses beside me, we gaze at each other.
“I thought you might forget about me,” I confess. “I know that sounds silly. But it was a whirlwind few months. And… I’m sorry I was so angry with you. I mean, I know why I was angry. I had valid reasons. But… it turns out I was also not in a great space with my mental health.”
Florian nods, giving me a wry smile. “I could tell. I didn’t want to push. I wanted to give you space. To get on your feet again like you wanted.”
We’re quiet as the drinks soon arrive. “How’ve you been, Florian?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Working too much,” he admits. “Helping with Gabriel. The usual. Going to the gym.”
“Do you want to hear something a little mad?”
“Tell me.”
“I thought you’d end up back together with Billy.”
Florian’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “He did try.”
It’s like a hand squeezes my heart. I hold my breath. “Oh?”
“I told him I had feelings for someone else. For you. And I wasn’t over you.
To be honest, I was hoping you would call.
Or the universe would send me a sign about how to let you go, if that’s how you were happiest. Every time I see your beach paintings at home, I think of you.
Which is to say, I think of you every day, Matty.
Which, I’m afraid, also sounds mad.” His smile is tight.
“Not to me.” I reach out across the table for his hand, and when he slides his fingers into mine, my shoulders relax. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.”
We search each other’s eyes. Around us, the bar’s full of patrons having laughs with friends, or after work, or after shopping. Like the world carries on like usual, and we’re in a small corner of our own in that world. Like there might be a space for me and Florian. At least maybe to try.
“I have to ask a question,” I tell him, searching his face.
He draws in a deep breath, bracing himself. “Ask.”
“Did you buy the Rose in the end?” I swallow.
“I was ill. Like, a hospital outpatient sort of ill because of my depression and anxiety. Mum said not to bring up the topic of the Rose around me when I wasn’t feeling well, according to my friends.
So, my friends didn’t tell me what happened.
I mean, I saw the Sold sign in the window. But… I didn’t know if it was you.”
“Matty…” His face crumples, stricken. His grip tightens. “You should have told me. I wish I would have known. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “You couldn’t have changed anything.”
“It might not have changed anything, but… I care about you. Very much.”
I just nod, swallowing hard. I squeeze back. “I know. But… tell me what happened.”
“Yes, I did buy the Rose,” Florian confesses. “After surveys. After a lot of soul-searching.”
“You did it for Gabriel?”
“Yes. And… this may also sound mad, but I did it for you too.”
I shake my head slowly, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
He’s still holding my hand, and he waits for me to take a breath.
At my nod, Florian explains. “I went through with the sale in the end. I wrestled with it. Whether to cancel the sale. Knowing how upset you were over this. How much the Rose means to you and your friends. I heard about the rally. I saw the stories on social media, and I confess I worried when I saw pictures of the event and I didn’t see you there.
I recognized some of your friends from the wedding. ”
I nod, holding my breath.
Florian licks his lips. Steadies himself with another breath. “I bought it, but I’m not redeveloping it into flats.”
Startled, I blink. And stare. “You’re turning it into a luxe hotel?” I dare ask.
He laughs. “No. There isn’t planning permission for that.
At least, not as part of the sale. Like I said, I debated whether to buy it.
And I decided to upgrade the facilities, to bring them to a modern standard.
There needs to be all kinds of work that’s been put off, according to the survey, not least of all the electrical.
And keep its current use, maybe with a pub again or restaurant, I’m not sure.
We’ve agreed to lease again with the art collective.
Everyone keeps their studio and the gallery without another developer swooping in who would redevelop the site since it was in such poor condition.
I thought maybe there’s another way to save the Rose. ”
I’m wide-eyed, unable to believe my ears.
“Especially,” he says softly, so softly in the din of the bar I almost don’t hear him, “if I wanted any chance in the future with you again.”
Part of me melts and wants to reach across the table and kiss him. But part of me’s troubled. “What about Gabriel?”
“I’ll find another way to help Gabe. But I can’t help him and hurt you at the same time. Or vice versa. I’m covering his bills for now, but I’ll find a better way. He wants to help save the Rose too. That he can help with some of the regular operations and plans for its restoration. Part-time.”
I take another deep breath and squeeze his hand.
It’s incredible to have him so close again.
Part of me was losing my nerve after he agreed to meet so quickly.
Like what if I’d built Florian up to some impossible standard in my head?
But here he is, being himself, and being vulnerable, and it’s everything.
“Thanks for letting me know all of this. This means so much to me.”
“Tell me more about how you’ve been, Matty. I want to know.” He leans in.
“At first, bad. I wasn’t well at all. I thought I was fine, but I totally lost it.
I wanted to hurt myself. And it was psychiatric care time.
But… I got better. I learned how to take care of myself more, learned that I need to navigate depression and anxiety and anxiety attacks.
That I’m not a disaster. Once I started getting my feet under me again, I started painting again.
Just a little. And it actually feels good?
I’ve just moved back to London, not too far from here, and I have a different job, selling art supplies, which is less stressful. ”
He smiles affectionately at me. “You’ll be so good at that.”
I smile back, continuing. “I’ve got a therapist. And… I’m working towards happy. For the record, seeing you makes me very happy. I can’t believe you’re here with me,” I confess. “Because… I need you to know I love you. And… I want to be in love with you.”
Florian beams at me. “I want you and love you so much, Matty. I know it was fast, last summer. But I fell hard. Maybe I’m a romantic at heart.
You’ve changed me in a better way. I’ve been practicing my drawing since that time you showed me.
Just silly little things. Drawing around the house.
Drawing the garden. My sketches are truly appalling.
But I’m trying. I went and bought watercolors, but I have no idea what to do with them. ”
“Florian,” I murmur and gesture for him to come sit beside me on the sofa as my heart melts. I pat the space beside me. “Come here.”
Obligingly, Florian slips around the round table and into the curl of my arm. He leans into me for a moment, and then we’re kissing lingeringly despite the busy cocktail bar, and at last, I feel hope again.