Sunday Dinner
893 Words
5:30 PM.
Lucien was wearing blue.
I was wearing gray.
He brought the thesis.
Bound. My name on it. Dr. Maya Carter.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” he said in the car.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are,” he said. “Your knee is bouncing.”
He put his hand on it.
Stopped it.
“Can I hold your hand inside?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell her if she’s too much?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he said.
---
The Ashford House. 6:00 PM.
Eleanor opened the door.
She was wearing blue too.
She looked at us.
At our hands.
At the thesis in Lucien’s hands.
“Come in,” she said.
Dinner was already on the table.
Roast. Vegetables. Wine.
It looked like a magazine.
“Sit,” Eleanor said.
We did.
Lucien next to me.
Thesis on the table between us.
Eleanor poured wine.
“I read it,” she said. No preamble.
Lucien froze.
“All 200 pages,” Eleanor said. “Twice.”
She looked at me.
“It’s good,” she said. “It’s angry. And it’s fair.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Thank you,” I said.
She took a sip of wine.
“Can I ask you something, Maya? Off the record.”
“Yes.”
“Did you love him when he was your advisor?”
The question.
The one I didn’t prepare for.
Lucien’s hand found mine under the table.
Squeezed.
You don’t have to answer,his eyes said.
But I did.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Did you want him?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I didn’t act on it. Because of the power.”
Eleanor looked at Lucien.
“And you?”
“I did,” he said. “And I acted on it. And that was wrong.”
Eleanor set her glass down.
“Good,” she said. “That you can both say that.”
She cut her roast.
“Because if you’d lied, I wouldn’t trust either of you.”
Dinner continued.
Normal questions.
About my job search.
About Lucien’s consulting.
About the garden.
No one mentioned the board.
No one mentioned the Ashford Building.
At dessert, Eleanor pushed a small box across the table.
To me.
“Open it,” she said.
Inside: a ring.
Not an engagement ring.
A signet.
Ashford crest.
Worn. Old.
“It was my mother’s,” Eleanor said. “She gave it to me when I married in.I’m giving it to you.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” Eleanor said. “Because you’re not marrying into the name.You’re making him earn it.”
Lucien looked at me.
Eyes wet.
“Can you take it?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I said.
I put it on.
It fit.
---
After dinner. 8:30 PM.
We were in the garden.
Just us.
Eleanor was inside cleaning up.
She’d told us to go.
Lucien was quiet.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “She likes you.”
“I know.”
“That’s rare,” he said. “She doesn’t like anyone.”
He turned to me.
Took my hand. Looked at the ring.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He did.
Under the string lights.
Slow.
Like he was thanking me.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead on mine.
“Can I tell you something?”
“What.”
“I’m proud of you,” he said. “For answering her.
For not lying.
For choosing me after knowing all of it.”
I smiled.
“Can I tell you something?”
“What.”
“I’m proud of you too,” I said. “For letting me.”
He laughed.
Quiet.
“Can we go home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
---
Back at my apartment. 10:00 PM.
He took off his jacket.
Hung it up.
Like he lived here.
"I'm staying again tonight"
"Might as well moved in at this rate"I joked.
"Maybe I should"he grinned.
We got under the covers.
Lights off.
He was quiet for a minute.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Do you ever miss it? The before. The chase.”
“No,” I said. “I like the after better.”
“Me too,” he said.
He pulled me closer.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?”
“Yes.”
He did.
Forehead. Then lips.
“Goodnight, Maya.”
“Goodnight, Lucien.”
---
Day 193. 7:00 AM.
Text from Eleanor.
The ring looks right on you.
Come by the foundation next week?
I need help with the archives.
Me: Yes.
Lucien read it over my shoulder.
“She’s recruiting you,” he said.
“I know.”
“Can I be mad about it?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he said. “Can I be happy about it?”
“Yes.”
He made coffee.
In my hoodie.
In my kitchen.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” I said.
He handed me coffee.
“Can we do this forever?”
I thought about Day 1.
About Day 180.
About last night.
“Yes,” I said.
- Writer
