Page 88 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

“Oh, I hope so. It’s been so much work, but it’s been great fun, visiting ateliers and studios and interviewing designers in their homes,” Lily enthuses.

It’s her first big break as a curator and I’m so glad for her that it’s going well. She’s been an assistant curator here for the last four years since she graduated from uni. She received the promotion six months ago. If I thought she was busy before, she’s found a whole new level.

I can see someone trying to get her attention, so we exchange another round of kisses and congratulations before she hurries off. We do a slow lap of the gallery, admiring the art and the effort in putting the whole show together.

Eli patiently waits for me as I insist on reading all of the exhibit labels, nearly as fixated as Lily making sure they all are correct. I don’t spot any shocking typos, so that’s a relief at least.

By now, we’re well canapéd and wined, somewhat loose-limbed and arguably more loose-tongued.

“What happened to your man?” Eli asks as we stand looking at a ripped taffeta dress in mint green and massive boots on a podium.

I give him a sharp sidelong glance. I’ve been carefully not thinking of Blake tonight, because losing him is too raw.

Back in my ordinary life again without Blake, everything is flatter. The only sign that Blake was even here to begin with are the handful of London photos on his Instagram, and my photos from the sunset and our Cumbria trip together. If it wasn’t for that, I could be convinced I may have conjured him up out of loneliness from the depths of my imagination in the height of summer. His Instagram has been suspiciously quiet, with a couple of city shots of New York, all skyscrapers and gray skies. Very atmospheric.

Every rare shot lacks for people. And there hasn’t been a single selfie in ages.

“Aubrey?”

I shake myself out of it and down some wine. “Sorry. He’s back home in America. And he’s not my man. He’s his own man.”

You’re acting weird. Don’t be weird.

“Where’s Ryan?” I ask just as pointedly, though with more edge than he asked after Blake.

Eli sighs. “I don’t know. Wherever Ryan is on a Thursday night.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

He gives me a long, appraising look. The sort of look that misses nothing, scrutinizing every detail, like a dressing down. It’s also the sort of look that undoes my composure, and in the past, made me wild for him.

“Want to get out of here?” Eli asks suddenly.

By this point, the music’s gone up, some people are dancing, and it’s too warm for my liking. I’m not about to hit the dance floor myself and Eli definitely doesn’t have that party vibe tonight. He’s all intensity.

Finishing our wine, we put our glasses down on a side table, and we head out. The evening’s cooled down, and the air is a bit on the chill side instead of sweltering, hinting toward the change in seasons around the corner.

We walk briskly to the tube, headed back to Soho. Like so many nights we had shared in years gone by, nights out, returning home to our flat after an evening together, visiting with friends or dining out. Eli’s flat.

“I thought everything was brilliant with you and Ryan.” I tap my Oyster card through the gates and we disappear into the hot underground world of the tube network.

“We have had our ups and downs.”

“His health’s okay?” I ask tentatively.

“Physically,” Eli agrees. “I think he’s having a hard time too. Obviously. Between the accident and us breaking up.”

“Did he find a flat of his own?”

“He’s staying with his parents in Balham.”

I just nod. We cram onto the next tube, full of late commuters and evening travelers. Standing shoulder to shoulder, I feel the heat of his body as we’re pressed against each other, too close for comfort. It wasn’t that long ago I would have been desperate for this time with him, this closeness.

Now, I just feel heavy-hearted. Sad for Eli, sad for Blake, sad for myself. No one’s winning right now.

We emerge to the regular world before long and walk through Soho. Hesitating as we wait to cross the street, I glance at him. We’ve been mostly traveling in silence. Not quite one of those comfortable silences, but one of those acutely aware silences where every fiber of my body is highly sensitized to him.

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