Page 133 of Van Cort
“The state committee are here to talk about funding, which Van Cort does, by the way, and I’ve already put them off because I proposed. I’m supposed to be meeting them at nine.”
“Will the state collapse without you for a few days?”
I chuckle lightly. “I doubt it.”
“Fuck that then. Go wake her up. Eggs?”
I stand and walk slowly back towards the doors for the apartment. “Do I look like I have a refrigerator full of breakfast food?”
“You told her we’d talk at breakfast, and you’ve got no food to give her?” I hadn’t thought about that.
He walks past me and ruffles his hair, striding out of the room soon after. “Put more coffee on.”
The apartment door opens and closes, and the ensuing silence makes me consider exactly that - the silence. It never really is here. Even this high up, I can still hear the noise from the citybelow me. It drones on, and on, and on. I need that to leave me. I need to leave.
Showered and changed, I go switch the machine on and then stare around the kitchen to consider the best place for breakfast conversations. I’ve never had a meal here with someone else, let alone breakfast.
My gaze drifts to the dining table and chairs at the far end of the lounge area, untouched since they were installed. It’s a sad fucking reflection of my life when I think about it. I thought I was comfortable with that, happy to dismiss connection or compatibility and just provide a Van Cort show. But now – I look towards the bedroom corridor – I’m ravenous for more of what life could offer.
Maybe I always was.
The soft sound of a shower focuses my attention, and I lean back on the counter, wondering what fate will bring today. There isn’t really anything I can do now but answer questions and hope. West will try his best, using kind words and romantic pleasantries, but the fundamentals won’t change, no matter what he says. This is her decision. She either wants us, or she doesn’t. Or, considering what she said last night, maybe she’ll choose one of us. I don’t know what that means to me, but I don’t like the thought, despite how much I love her. He is me. I am him.
With both of us, she gets everything.
Not much longer passes by before I hear her heels coming through the lounge. I stare from the kitchen island, waiting, and finally see her as she comes around the corner into the open doorway.
We both stare, both unable to form anything in our mouths.
I open mine anyway.
“No. Don’t speak,” she says. My brow arches. “Okay. Everett.” A smile broadens on my face, and I nod.
“You see? Easy. Good morning.”
“I’m not sure we should consider it good yet. It is morning, though.”
Leaning over the island unit, I pour her a cup of coffee and sit back away from her again. “You’re still here. In my apartment. I’d consider that a win.”
“Because we’re in a game?”
“No. Because you could have run. You didn’t.”
She takes a sip of her coffee before looking around the space. “Well, firstly, neither of you would let me, and secondly, the door was locked.”
“You’re a resourceful girl. I’m sure you’d have found a way to leave if you really wanted to.”
“Where is he?”
“Why? Am I not enough?” She stares at me for some time, head tilted, as she continues to drink her coffee without answering. “What are you interrogating inside that head of yours?”
“You’re jealous. Nervous. I’ve never seen jealousy on you before. How does it work if you get jealous?”
“I’m not jealous of what my brother can offer you. You deserve it. I am nervous of the fact that I can’t offer the same. Not yet, at least.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know who that boy inside me is anymore. He got lost. Sometimes, I remember him, but mostly I remember his pain. It isn’t somewhere I enjoy revisiting.”
