I woke up slowly, which was unusual for me because normally I snapped awake like someone had fired a starting gun, but this morning my eyes opened in stages, first a crack, then a blink, then a long stare at the ceiling while my brain rebooted. The chandelier sparkled above me, and I had stopped arguing with it weeks ago. We had an understanding now. It sparkled, I existed, and neither of us bothered the other.
Something was different, though. The bed felt warmer than usual, fuller, and when I turned my head I found Lucas sleeping next to me, his face half buried in the pillow, his hair a mess, and his breathing slow and steady. He had stayed, not downstairs in his emergency apartment and not on the couch, but here, in my bed, on the other side of this ridiculously huge mattress, far enough that we had not touched all night but close enough that I could see the tiny freckles on his nose. I had never noticed his freckles before. They were faint, almost invisible, but they were there.
"Stop staring," he mumbled without opening his eyes.
"I'm not staring. I'm observing."
"You're staring."
"You're supposed to be asleep."
"I was asleep. Then I felt someone watching me."
"The chandelier is watching you. Not me."
"The chandelier doesn't have eyes."
"The chandelier has presence."
He opened one eye, then the other, and his gaze found mine. His ears turned pink.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning."
"You slept."
"I slept."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"You didn't have nightmares?"
I thought about it. The dreams had been quiet last night, no crying, no screaming, no waking up in a cold sweat not knowing where I was.
"No nightmares," I said.
"Good."
"Lucas."
"Yes?"
"Thank you for staying."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. But I wanted to."
His ears turned redder, and he sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "I should make coffee."
"You should stay in bed."
"I should make coffee."
"You're avoiding me."
"I'm not avoiding you. I'm prioritizing caffeine."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing."
"Close enough."
He got up and walked to the kitchen, and I watched him go, his gray t-shirt wrinkled, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his feet bare. I was noticing a lot of things lately.
---
The kitchen smelled like coffee when I walked in, and Lucas had already made two cups, one black and one with cream, perfect as always.
"You're getting predictable," I said, sitting on the stool next to him.
"I'm consistent."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing."
"You're impossible."
"You say that a lot."
"Because it keeps being true."
He pushed my coffee toward me, and I took a sip. The cream was perfect, the temperature was perfect, everything was perfect.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"What happens now?"
He looked at me, the morning light golden and soft through the windows, his face calm and his eyes warm.
"Now we keep going," he said. "One day at a time. One cup of coffee at a time."
"The plant has two leaves."
"The plant is thriving."
"The plant is a metaphor."
"For you."
"I'm not a plant."
"You're a plant that is learning to grow."
I laughed. "That's still the strangest compliment I've ever received."
"Thank you. I worked very hard on it."
---
Sophie texted me at nine, her message appearing on my phone screen in all capital letters. DID HE STAY? I looked at the phone, then at Lucas, then back at the phone.
"She knows," I said.
"Kevin has a camera in the bedroom too."
"He does not."
"He does. For emergencies."
"Watching us sleep is not an emergency."
"Kevin thinks it is."
I texted Sophie back. Yes. Now stop watching us.
Her reply came immediately. NO. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.
I put the phone down.
"Sophie says no," I said.
"I figured."
"Your friends are strange."
"Your friends are strange too."
"They're your friends now."
"Unfortunately."
He said it with a smile, a real smile, soft and warm and full of something I was starting to recognize.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For everything. For the coffee, for the company, for staying when everyone else left, for drinking my burnt tea, for living below me for five years, for being creepy."
"You're welcome."
"For not being scared of me."
"I was never scared of you."
"I know."
"Good."
---
We spent the morning on the couch watching another movie that neither of us paid attention to. Lucas's feet were on the coffee table again, and he was wearing his diamond socks, the ones from a three pack that had been on sale.
Around noon, Sophie showed up with cupcakes, purple and grape flavored, still weird and still delicious. Kevin came with her, laptop in hand and Marmalade's judgmental face glowing on the screen.
"The plant has two leaves," Kevin said, staring at the ficus.
"The plant is thriving," Sophie and I said at the same time.
"The plant is a miracle," Lucas said.
Everyone looked at him.
"What?" he said.
"You just called a plant a miracle," Sophie said.
"The plant has two leaves."
"That doesn't make it a miracle."
"It makes it a survivor."
"Same thing."
"Not the same thing."
"Close enough."
---
They left around three, Sophie hugging me twice and Kevin patting my shoulder and saying something about Marmalade sending his regards. I still didn't know what that meant.
Lucas stayed.
He was standing by the window looking at the city, the sun starting to set in shades of orange and pink and gold.
"Lucas," I said, walking to stand beside him.
"Yes?"
"We made it."
"Made what?"
"The first month. Thirty days. I woke up crying, not knowing who I was, and now..." I looked at the city, at the buildings, at the lights starting to come on. "Now I'm here. With you. And I'm not crying."
"That's progress."
"That's everything."
He looked at me, his ears pink.
"Vivian," he said.
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens next, I'm not going anywhere."
"I know."
"Good."
We stood there in silence, watching the sun set over the city. The chandelier sparkled behind us, and the ficus sat in the corner with its two leaves reaching toward the light.
"Lucas," I said.
"Yes?"
"Your ears are pink."
"They're always pink around you."
"I know."
"Good."
He smiled. I smiled.
The sun kept setting, the city kept moving, and somewhere out there the future was waiting. But right now, in this moment, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.