Chapter 33. Jude
The bass hits. The neon washes over us. Daddy's hand is in mine. Bodies press together in various states of dress and undress.
Glynn spots us from behind the bar. Their ginger hair has a severe undercut now. I go to our corner, the one we always claim.
Alfie is the first thing I see, and the sight of him makes me so fucking happy. He's draped across the leather couch with one ankle crossed over his knee, a glass of something amber in his hand, and he looks relaxed. Really relaxed. For the first time in a long time.
Noa is there too. Small, loud, his dark curly hair forming its customary halo, his big black eyes bright. He's leaning against Henry.
Pierce is in the center of everything, because Pierce is always in the center of everything.
His electric blue hair is freshly dyed. He's standing on a low table, one studded boot planted on the surface, the other on the couch arm, delivering what appears to be a dramatic monologue to a small crowd of laughing onlookers, his piercings catching the light with every gesture.
And Dave is here too. Ford's Dave, the Kitten. Standing at the bar's edge in conversation with Glynn, the rope-pattern tattoo peeking from his collar. He sees Ford and beams, waving.
Callum is here, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, his dark locs framing his watchful face. A red dress tonight. He smiles at us.
Pierce launches himself off the table and almost tackles me.
"You disappeared," he accuses. "For two weeks! I had to torment strangers."
"I was busy!"
"Busy being domestic. I can smell it on you. You smell like… what is that? Baby powder and happiness." We laugh.
I look at them. All of them, scattered around this room.
Alfie with his amber glass, here again after so long.
Pierce commanding his audience. Noa, loud and small and incandescent against Henry's steady frame.
Callum keeping his watchful post. Dave talking to Glynn at the bar, Glynn surveying the whole floor.
And Ford. Ford beside me, his hand finding the small of my back.
I have my life back.
?
The club entrance swings open, and I know who it is before I see him.
I just have a feeling. But mostly it's because of how everyone starts looking at me, as if I'm made of glass and could break at any moment.
We're all sitting close, talking shit, eating mozzarella sticks, and laughing.
Then Glynn sees him and scowls. Pierce looks over his shoulder and gasps.
Callum crosses the room fast to where we are.
Alfie grabs my arm. Noa stops bouncing. And Ford frowns, confused.
I look.
Emmett walks in.
He is beautiful, as always. His dark hair is long and loose. His warm brown eyes scan the room. His nails are painted red, immaculate as ever.
Ford's hand tightens on my waist. His fingers press into my hip.
My breath catches. One beat.
I wait for the rest of it. The spiral, the vertigo, the familiar plummeting sensation. I wait for the old circuitry to fire, for the synapses that once flooded my chest at the sight of him to do their damage.
It doesn't come.
I breathe. And what I feel is not the old devastation. It's something quieter. Warmer. Almost like wonder.
I don't care. For the first time in over a year, I genuinely, completely, don't care. Before, just hearing his name would send me spiraling. Now I'm seeing him in the flesh, and the needle doesn't move. Not even a tremor.
I'm free.
"Come on," I say, and get up.
Everybody watches me, but Ford follows without telling me to stop. He knows I have to do this.
Emmett sees us approaching and stops. His face goes through a sequence I remember from our time together.
Surprise first: the widening of those brown eyes.
Then recognition, not just of me but of the hand on my waist, the man attached to it.
And then something softer settles into the lines around his eyes.
We reach him.
"Emmett. Long time no see!" I say. "This is Ford. Ford, this is Emmett."
The two of them do the thing. The sizing-up, the mutual assessment. Ford extends his hand first.
Emmett takes it. Their handshake is firm, and they smile at each other.
"Nice to finally meet you," Ford says. His hand never leaves my back.
"Likewise," Emmett responds.
That's it. That's the whole thing. I don't die. I don't spiral. Nothing happens. Emmett looks at me.
"You look well, Jude. I'm glad," he says, softly. "I hope your new dynamic helps you heal from what we had. I know you struggled with it in the end."
I turn to face him.
Emmett. My old Dom. The guy who shattered my heart.
I smile, and it's my real smile. I feel light. I wink at him, the old gesture, the bratty punctuation, the Jude Piaf signature.
"There's nothing to heal from, silly," I say. "It's all good."
The words leave my mouth, and I realize they're true. There is nothing to heal from, because I'm already healed. Something I couldn't have imagined when I was drowning.
Emmett smiles again. He is truly glad.
"Take care of yourself, Jude."
"You too, Emmett."
He looks at Ford and nods. Ford nods back. Emmett touches my shoulder briefly, and I watch him go.
We cross the room back to where my friends are. Everyone starts cheering. Pierce ruffles my hair. Alfie pats my back. Callum pushes my shoulder lightly. Noa starts jumping up and down again. Glynn laughs, relieved. I press my face into Ford's chest. He kisses my hair.
"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," he says. I don't say anything, but I'm proud of myself. I couldn't be prouder.
Home, I think. Right here. Right now. These people. Angel back home.
We are enough. More than enough.
Everything.