The weekend arrived like a gift I had not asked for but desperately needed.
Friday had been long. The quarterly reports were finally submitted. No one got yelled at. No one cried. Kevin only dropped his laptop once, and Sophie only made one batch of emergency cupcakes to calm her nerves. They were purple again. Grape flavor. Still weird. Still delicious.
"You are getting good at this," Sophie said. We were in the break room. She was cleaning flour off her apron. I was eating my third cupcake.
"Getting good at what?"
"Being a person. A normal person. Someone who does not terrify everyone."
"I still terrify Kevin."
"Kevin is terrified of everything. He once screamed because his cat looked at him wrong."
"Marmalade has a very intense stare."
"Marmalade is a cat. Cats stare. That is what they do."
"Marmalade stares like he is judging your soul."
Sophie laughed. "You sound like Kevin."
"Kevin is growing on me."
"Like a fungus?"
"Like a friend."
She grinned. "You have friends now, Vivian. Multiple friends. It is a miracle."
"I am a miracle."
"You are a menace."
"A menace who eats your cupcakes."
"That is the only reason I keep you around."
---
Lucas found me in the break room after Sophie left. He was holding two cups of coffee. One black. One with cream. He set mine on the table and sat across from me.
"You look happy," he said.
"I ate three cupcakes."
"That will do it."
"Sophie says I have friends now. Multiple friends."
"She is not wrong."
"I also have a dying plant. And a chandelier that stares at me. And a very creepy assistant who lives in my building."
"I live below your building."
"Same thing."
"It is not the same thing."
"Close enough."
He shook his head. But he was smiling. His ears were pink.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For the coffee. For the company. For not being scared of me."
"You are not scary anymore."
"I was never scary. I was misunderstood."
"You yelled at a plant."
"The plant was not growing fast enough."
"The plant was a plant."
"The plant had potential."
He stared at me. Then he laughed. A real laugh. Loud and surprised. It echoed through the empty break room.
I stared at him. "You laughed."
"I did not laugh."
"You laughed. I heard it. It was loud."
"I coughed."
"That was not a cough. That was a laugh."
"I have allergies."
"To what?"
"To you."
My heart did something complicated. "You are allergic to me?"
"You are ridiculous."
"You are ridiculous."
"We are both ridiculous."
He stood up. Walked to the door. Paused.
"Vivian," he said.
"Yes?"
"Your ears are not red."
"My ears do not turn red. That is your thing."
"I know." He smiled. "I was just checking."
He left.
I sat in the break room, alone, holding my coffee, my heart pounding.
He was checking if my ears turned red.
Why was he checking if my ears turned red?
Sophie appeared in the doorway. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"Lucas. Laughing. I heard it from the marketing floor."
"He coughed."
"That was not a cough."
"I know."
She grinned. "He likes you."
"I know."
"Do you like him?"
I looked at my coffee. At the cream swirling in the dark liquid. At the way Lucas always made it exactly how I liked it. Without asking. Without reminding. He just knew.
"Yes," I said. "I like him."
Sophie screamed. Actually screamed. I had to cover my ears.
"Finally!" she yelled. "I have been waiting for this for weeks!"
"You have known me for weeks."
"I have been waiting for this since the day you smiled at me in the lobby."
"That was weeks ago."
"I am patient."
"You are not patient. You are loud."
She hugged me. Flour got on my sweater. I did not care.
---
That night, I could not sleep.
Not because the chandelier was staring at me. Not because I was thinking about Elena or Alexander or the notebook.
Because I was thinking about Lucas.
The way he laughed. The way his ears turned red. The way he drank chamomile tea even though he hated it. The way he lived in the apartment below mine for five years just to make sure I was safe.
The way he looked at me.
Like I was someone worth protecting. Someone worth waiting for. Someone worth loving.
I got out of bed. Walked to the kitchen. Made tea. Did not burn it.
"You are awake."
I turned. Lucas stood in the doorway. Gray t-shirt. Sweatpants. Messy hair. He looked like he had not slept either.
"So are you," I said.
"I heard you walking."
"My footsteps do not sound like elephants."
"Tonight they sounded like giraffes."
"Giraffes are quiet."
"These giraffes were very loud."
I laughed. He walked to the counter and sat on the stool next to mine.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Why do you live below me?"
He was quiet for a moment. "You know why."
"I want to hear you say it."
He looked at me. The kitchen was dark. Only the light from the city came through the windows. His face was half in shadow. But his eyes were bright.
"Because I needed to know you were safe," he said. "Every night. Every morning. Every time you cried in your office when you thought no one was watching."
"You heard me crying?"
"I heard everything."
"That is still creepy."
"I know."
"Say it again."
"What?"
"That you needed to know I was safe."
He looked at me. His ears turned red. "I needed to know you were safe."
"Thank you."
"You do not have to thank me."
"I know." I put my hand on the counter. Close to his. Not touching. "But I wanted to."
He looked at my hand. Then he looked at me.
"Vivian," he said.
"Yes?"
"You have amnesia."
"I know."
"You do not remember who you are."
"I know who I am right now."
"Who are you?"
I looked at him. At the man who waited five years. Who drank chamomile tea he hated. Who lived below me just to make sure I was safe.
"I am someone who likes you," I said. "I said it before. I will say it again. I like you, Lucas."
He was very still. His ears were very red.
"You have amnesia," he said again.
"Stop saying that."
"It is important."
"It is not important. What is important is that I am sitting in my kitchen at two in the morning, wearing banana socks, drinking tea I did not burn, and telling you that I like you."
"You did not burn the tea?"
"Do not change the subject."
He almost smiled. "I am not changing the subject. I am impressed about the tea."
"Lucas."
"Vivian."
"I like you."
He looked at me for a long moment. The city hummed below us. The chandelier sparkled in the other room.
"I like you too," he said quietly. "I have liked you for five years."
"I know."
"Then why did you make me say it?"
"Because I wanted to hear it."
He shook his head. "You are impossible."
"You say that a lot."
"Because it keeps being true."
He put his hand on the counter. His fingers touched mine. Just barely. Just enough.
We sat there, in the dark kitchen, fingers touching, tea growing cold, the city sleeping below us.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"What happens now?"
He looked at me. His eyes were soft. "Now we wait."
"For what?"
"For you to remember. Or not. Either way, I am not going anywhere."
"You promise?"
He smiled. A real smile. Soft and warm and full of something I had never seen before.
"I promise."
---
We sat in the kitchen until the sun came up.
We did not talk about the future. Or the past. Or the notebook. Or Alexander. Or Elena.
We talked about small things. His mother's garden. Kevin's cat. Sophie's cupcakes. The ficus that was finally growing a new leaf.
"Maybe it was not dying," I said. "Maybe it was just waiting."
"Like you?"
"Like me."
He looked at me. His ears were red.
The sun rose over the city. Pink and orange and gold.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"I am glad you waited."
He smiled. "Me too."