Page 59 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
“Let’s get some sleep and break it some more.” I tug her to me.
Stevie drifts off curled into my side, one leg over mine, her body warm and damp against my chest. For a few minutes, it’s quiet. Us. Like always.
And yet, she feels a world away.
In the week I’ve been here, it’s obvious, She’s thriving. Happy. Living her best life. Meanwhile, I’m scribbling lyrics in the margins of old notebooks, staring at empty canvasses, not any further ahead than when I started college. I thought we’d be able to talk more and I could share what’s been going on with me.
Why bother, though. I’m chasing a dream I’m not sure I want.
I’m not even close to being on the same wavelength as Stevie. Maybe I never will be again.
I can’t pretend I won’t lose her anymore.
When I might’ve already.
sixteen
Stevie
Four Months Later
Ican’tseemtofocus.
The floor plan in front of me blurs. Eight-top rounds. Stage risers. Buffet stations.
They all bleed together in one indecipherable mess. I blink, sit back in my chair, rub the base of my neck where a tension knot’sbeen building since the catering team decided to overhaul the entire dessert menu. Again.
The office is chaos as usual. Landline phones ringing. Someone laughing near the Keurig. Muted clicks of heels on tile. I’m supposed to be finalizing VIP seating. Instead, I’m staring at a screen thinking about my man who’s three thousand miles away.
Wondering why we don’t talk every day anymore.
It’s the first thing I can admit about our relationship.
We used to fall asleep with our phones on the pillow. Wake up to a good morning message, a voice note, a meme. Ever since Padraig went home after his visit, things have trickled off and I don’t know why.
We never had a fight. Or disagreement. There’s nothing I can pinpoint.
When he was here, things weren’t perfect but I thought we made it work. Sure, my job is demanding. Between corporate Christmas galas, end-of-year banquets and a socialite’s wedding with a cake shaped like the Chrysler building, my boss kept piling on events because I was “eager” and “sharp.”
Let’s be honest, it was more like I’m “low on the totem pole.”
On the other hand, we snuck time wherever we could. I took long lunches. Pushed back meetings. He hung out with me and my work friends. Christmas was glorious, we took goofy selfies in front of the Rockefeller tree. Slept tangled up with fairy lights glowing from my roommates’ fake pine garland. We rang in the new year with him inside me, orgasms substituting for champagne toasts.
When he left, he kissed me like I was his everything. Made me promise to call him every day. Everything felt okay. Good. Normal.
Once he was back in Pullman, I didn’t expect it would mostly be me reaching out. His replies are short. Not unkind. Not cold. More like distracted. Indifferent. like he’s pulling away.
Maybe he was right to worry about me moving so far away. I’m out of sight, out of mind.
Didn’t his time in New York mean as much to him as it did to me?
I scroll through our text thread on my phone. The last message he sent was yesterday, a screenshot of some studio schedule from Linus. No “miss you.” No “love you.” No romantic words. A single photo with no explanation.
His behavior is so unusual, I’m worried. Is he okay? What’s happening with the band? Does he love me anymore? I can’t concentrate. My heart is in my throat.
Something’s wrong. I need to know.
Closing my laptop, I rub the cracked corner of my phone. Should I text? Will he answer? Questions I never used to ask myself when it came to him.
