I opened the door. Julian knelt on the step, soaked through. The suit he had worn to board meetings was wrinkled and stained at the cuffs, his hair stuck to his forehead, and cheap whiskey clung to his breath. Rainwater had collected around his knees.
He looked up with red eyes.
“Sera.” He caught the hem of my coat in one wet hand. “Please.”
I waited. Water ran from his sleeve onto the step.
“The house is so quiet,” he said. “I keep waiting to hear you in the studio. I watch for the light under your door, but the rooms are empty. Your coffee cup is still beside the sink. I haven't moved it.”
He shifted forward on his knees and tightened his grip. “I was a fool. A goddamn, arrogant fool. I thought you'd be angry, then get over it. I thought you'd come back. You always came back.”
Even
