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‘Want a beer, Finn?’ Max calls out, already at the fridge.
‘I think I’ll have some of Josie’s cocktail actually.’
I catch Finn’s eye and mouthwell done,and his responding grin goes straight to my chest.
We move to the living area, and I sit on the floor between Finn’s feet while we tell everyone about our trip. This mostly consists of me letting Finn tell stories with his huge hand gestures and unrelenting enthusiasm while I lean my head against his knee and interject when he goes off track. Which is, unsurprisingly, fairly often.
They hear about the ten days we spent in San Francisco working through the bucket list we scrabbled together one evening all those months ago; how I spent a solid four days complaining about how hilly it was, how we found good coffee in multiple places (turns out Finn just wasn’t very good at looking), how we wandered around Fisherman’s Wharf and ate overpriced seafood at more than one of the tourist-trap waterfront restaurants. How I’d never seen joy on someone’s face quite like on Finn’s when he saw the sea lions, how he’d never seen such unadulterated regret as on mine while the wind whipped us across the Golden Gate Bridge.
‘I’m not usually a city boy, but I might put it on my list,’ Maxsays, procuring Doritos out of nowhere and inhaling half the packet before I get the chance to put my hand in. ‘But I’m already booked up for most of the year.’
‘That trip you booked ages ago is finally almost here, right?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, but the friend who I’m meant to be bringing as my plus-one is making noises about dropping out.’ He grabs another handful of crisps and adds, ‘But whatever, I’ll go alone if I have to.’
Most people wouldn’t know Max has gone through anything out of the ordinary, but I do, and we both have the scars to prove it. Those scars remind me how precious it is to love someone so hard your heart’s already broken from missing them, even when they’re still right in front of you.
Alina elbows Josie. ‘Tell them your news.’
‘Oh,’ she says, pulling her hair up into the claw clip previously attached to her skirt. ‘You’re looking at the new senior curator for Dulwich Arthouse.’
We celebrate with her deadly cocktail concoction and talk about the plans for the next few days. Finn’s back at work at the museum on Monday, but I’ve still got another day off. I’ve been tentatively looking at going into some sort of teaching or training job, but nothing’s set in stone yet, so I’m intending to use my day off to do some more research. Realistically, I’m no closer to figuring out what I want to do than I was a year ago, but at least now I’m willing to get up and try. That alone is progress I won’t take for granted.
Eventually, Max has to leave to catch his train, and the second he’s out the door Alina snorts and says, ‘There is no way that man is getting a train. He’s definitely going to meet a woman.’
‘Let him live his slutty little life,’ Finn says, pulling me up from the floor to sit next to him on the sofa. ‘He deserves it.’
‘You know that’s my brother you’re talking about, right?’ I push my side against his chest in a way that’s meant to be indignant, but ends with his arms wrapping around me and drawing me against him.
‘What? I said he deserved it.’
I laugh under my breath, because even after all this time, I still don’t want him to know I think he’s funny.
We have a slow afternoon trying to beat the jet lag by doing laundry (Finn), making food with actual nutrients (also Finn) and watching Homes Under the Hammer (me). Somehow, we make it to five in the evening before crashing, and Alina and Josie go out to dinner, leaving us alone in the flat, curled up on the sofa, as if we haven’t just spent the entirety of a trip together.
‘They love you, you know,’ I say, finally showered and comfy in a well-worn blue dinosaur t-shirt.
It’s one of those long summer evenings where the sun’s still high in the sky and you can almost convince yourself you still have the whole day left. Or at least, you can when you haven’t been awake for almost twenty-four hours.
‘Yeah?’ He pulls me closer and kisses my hair, and I close my eyes and let myself be that person I wasn’t sure I could be.
‘Everyone loves you.’
‘Everyone?’ His palm rests on my hip, fingertips pressing lightly into my skin.
Loving someone means giving them a piece of your heart for safekeeping, knowing they’ll take care of the fragments while you’re struggling to look after the pieces yourself.
I look up at him, into that face with the laughter lines and the warm eyes and the mouth always milliseconds away from opening into a smile. ‘Idon’t think I ever had a choice.’
I find Finn in my room an hour or so later, freshly showered and messy-haired, changing the sheets for me.
‘Are you staying here tonight?’ I ask from the doorway.
He gives the duvet a thrash before it drifts down onto the bed, where he smooths it out as best he can. Then he looks up, his eyes shining the way they always do. ‘Do you want me to? I thought you might wanna spend some time alone after being stuck with me non-stop for ten days.’
‘I want you to.’
‘Then of course I’ll stay.’ He joins me in the doorway, leaning against the frame in that stupid easy way of his, one hand already sliding up my neck to cup my jaw, fingers weaving into my hair. ‘For you, Ava Monroe, every time.’
I know he will. And I will too, because it’s not nearly as complicated as it seems. It’s bucket lists and board games. It’s changing the bedding for me because I once drunkenly mentioned it’s my least favourite chore. It’s dark jokes in darker times, and it’sTwilightreruns and terrible karaoke and aeroplane wishes and hazelnut wafers snuck home from work. It’s not being fully okay yet, but it’s the brilliant, blazing hope that one day you will be. It’s laughing loudly and living fully and leaving trails of stardust in your wake.
Like sunlight, love finds its way in through the cracks regardless.
Might as well open the door.
