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“Home,” she sighs, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. “Wait!”
She stops me by tugging on my hand.
“You only have a t-shirt on and you’re soaking wet.” She looks around like maybe something dry and thick will appear out of thin air. She stops on an empty area of the gym. “You know, if you had apparel, we’d both be covered right now. Nothing too fancy. Just some sweatshirts, t-shirts, and stickers with the gym’s logo on them.”
“Baby?” I say, because she’s lost in thought for a few seconds.
“What?” She turns her eyes up to meet mine. “Not a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea,” I say. “You can handle it, just like Carine handled the designs for all the stuff Valentino’s sells.”
“Oh!” Her eyes light up. “That was Carine’s idea?”
“Yeah.” I grin. She loves ma and looks up to her. Sometimes I wonder how things can get so twisted in the world. Lucila deserves a mom like Carine, and I deserve a Janis. “She fought Michele on it and won. He wanted to keep it old school, but she said people love to wear what they love. Big hit. She can barely keep it stocked. People all over the world place orders. Some of them find Michele because someone gifted them a shirt and told them to visit New York just for his bread.”
She grins. “It’s the best bread I’ve ever had. I don’t think there’s a single thing in that store that I don’t love.”
“You hungry?”
She explodes with laughter, and it echoes. It won’t be just footsteps that echo in my thoughts years from now.
I pull her along. “Yeah? ’Cause I know a guy in the bakery business. For a beautiful woman like you, he’ll hook me up.”
“Can you bake?”
We stop.
“Yeah,” I say. “I can bake. I can handle the ovens.”
“Do you really hate it?”
She’s looking at me without judgment. Truly curious.
“No.” I’m keeping my voice low, even though there’s no real reason to. Maybe it’s because of the look in her eyes. She loves me. And it feels like a reverent thing. Something to keep sacred. “I don’t hate it. But it doesn’t take me out of my head and into a difference place. When I’m doing what Michele does, I know everything I’m doing. I’m conscious of each step. Of the clock ticking on the wall. You ever watch him do what he does?”
She nods.
“He becomes an artist. It takes him away to a different world. He lives the dream, because he’s making a living off something he loves to do. He hasn’t worked a day in his life.”
“Is that what this place is to you?” She looks around.
I nod, but it’s only partially the truth. Like she said, I can rid myself of the “urges” through this place. I can channel them. But what I’m passionate about is her. I find purpose in taking care of her and making a living at the same time. I’ll never work a day in my life if I have those things.
“What?” I say, because I can tell she has a million questions.
She shakes her head. “I’m not leaving unless you take this—” She goes to take off my hoodie, but I’m too quick. I fling her up and throw her over my shoulder.
“Lilo!” She slaps at my ass. “I’m serious! You’re going to get sick.”
I ignore her, a grin on my face.
“Then what if I get sick?”
My feet stop and the grin slips. She’s shaking with laughter but she’s trying to hold it in. I don’t think it’s funny. It’s the fucking truth. I set her down and she hands me the hoodie. The only reason I don’t switch ours out is because mine is damp. But I have a hood and she doesn’t.
She explodes with laughter at the look on my face. “Good thing we don’t live far,” she says, cracking up. “We’ll be next door in no time.”
I move faster, so I pick her up again, only stopping to lock the door behind us. I hit a cold white wall as I hustle to get us to the house. That doesn’t stop me, but a body emerging from the vortex does. He’s standing against his car, the lights shining directly on us. Snow twirls in front of them and around him in mad flurries. The wind is so strong that it knocks the hood of my sweater back.
