Page 94 of We Can Stay
She traces her finger along the planes of my chest. “Anything you want to share?”
“I’m glad that we made it back here. To us.”
She lays her head on my shoulder and places her palm over my heart. “Me, too.”
We should move. There are still things to be done. But there’s something about this moment, the peacefulness—the way she fits perfectly against me—that makes me want to freeze time.
Flick’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the spell. We both laugh.
“When did you last eat?” I ask, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Um...” She bites her lip, thinking. “Breakfast? Maybe?”
“Flick.”
“I know, I know. I got caught up dyeing that new batch. The color wasn’t coming out right, and then I lost track of time, and then I had to get to the shop...”
I step back, taking her hand. “Come on. Let’s see what I’ve got.”
“But—”
“No arguments. Doctor’s orders.”
She rolls her eyes but lets me lead her toward the kitchen. “You’re not that kind of doctor.”
“Close enough.” We head back downstairs and picking up our trail of clothes as we go. I flip on the lights, illuminating the sterile expanse of my barely-used kitchen. “Fair warning, my refrigerator situation is pretty sad.”
“How sad are we talking?”
I’ve been kind of negligent in ordering a delivery this week, so I’m not expecting much of a selection. I’ve been eating at the clinic or grabbing takeout, since I haven’t been spending time with Flick.
I open it, revealing leftover Chinese takeout containers, a questionable apple, and what might have once been lettuce. “Judge for yourself.”
Flick peers around me, her body warm against my back. “Oh, Sebastian. This is tragic.” She shakes her head. “Let’s order pizza. We’ll deal with your pathic refrigerator later.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She’s already pulling out her phone. “What do you want on it?”
“Surprise me.”
While she orders, I grab us both water and find plates that haven’t been used in months. The domesticity of it makes something loosen in my chest. This is what I’ve been missing. Not just someone to share space with, but someone who makes that space feel alive.
“Twenty minutes,” she announces, hopping up to sit on my counter. The marble is probably cold through her jeans, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “So, tour while we wait?”
“You’ve seen most of it already.”
“Not properly. Come on.” She slides back down, grabbing my hand. “Show me where Dr. Sebastian Blum really lives.”
The truth is, I don’t really live here. I exist here. Sleep here. Store my clothes here. But as I walk her through the rooms—the living room with its uncomfortable modern furniture Jessica picked out, the dining room I never use, the home office that’s just another place to work—I see it all through Flick’s eyes.
“It’s very...” She pauses in the hallway, studying the blank walls. “Clean.”
“You’ve said that before, you know.” I huff out a laugh that sounds strangled. “You can say sterile. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
“I was going for diplomatic.” She stops at a closed door. “What’s in here?”
“Guest room. Nothing interesting.”
