Happy Together

Greensleeves

But as he put the phone down, the darkness crept back in, his grin returning.

"Don’t worry, Victoria," he said to himself as he started the car. "When this is over, you’ll never have to think about him again."

The engine roared to life, and Lucius drove off into the night, his plan unfolding piece by piece in his mind.

After a long shift at the coffee shop, Victoria was relieved to finally be home. She kicked off her shoes by the door, dropping her bag on the counter and sighing as the quiet of her apartment settled around her. It was a stark contrast to the bustle of the mall, and for a moment, she just stood there, soaking it in.

The kitchen light flickered faintly, reminding her that she still hadn’t called the landlord about fixing it. She made a mental note as she poured herself a glass of wine, her movements slow and deliberate. Her mind kept wandering back to the morning, to Alistair’s kiss, to the way Lucius had lingered beneath the surface of his words.

It wasn’t just Alistair or Lucius. It was them, together, somehow inseparable yet distinct in her mind. The duality of who they were fascinated and frightened her in equal measure.

She carried the glass to the couch, curling up under a blanket. The TV was on, but she wasn’t really watching. Her thoughts swirled, replaying the events of the last few days. She thought about the mugging, how Lucius had appeared like a storm, his presence overwhelming but undeniably protective.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was Tanya from work.

"Hey! Just checking in. You seemed distracted today. Everything okay?"

Victoria smiled faintly, typing back: "I’m good, just tired. Thanks for asking. Hope you’re having a good night."

She set the phone down and took a sip of wine, her gaze drifting to the small Christmas tree in the corner. It was simple, decorated with white lights and a few ornaments she’d collected over the years. She’d always loved Christmas, but this year felt... different.

Her mind wandered back to Lucius. She couldn’t shake the image of him from that morning—his intensity, his strange blend of danger and comfort. She hated how safe she’d felt in his arms, knowing what he was capable of. Yet, there was a part of her, buried deep, that didn’t entirely want to let him go.

"God, what’s wrong with me?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her temples.

She turned her attention back to the TV, flipping through channels aimlessly. Nothing held her interest. Instead, her thoughts drifted to Alistair and how different he was from Lucius. Alistair was kind and thoughtful, always trying to make her smile. But Lucius... Lucius was raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically himself.

The thought made her stomach twist. She didn’t know how to reconcile the two parts of him, or how she felt about either of them.

Finishing her wine, Victoria got up and wandered to the kitchen, setting the glass in the sink. She checked her phone again, hoping for a message from Alistair, but there was nothing new.

"Probably busy," she murmured, trying to shake off the nagging feeling in her chest.

Deciding she needed to distract herself, she grabbed her journal from the bookshelf and settled back on the couch. Writing had always helped her sort through her feelings, and tonight was no exception. She opened to a fresh page, her pen hovering for a moment before she began.

"I don’t know how to feel. Alistair is so sweet, but Lucius... he makes me feel something I can’t explain. It’s like he knows my darkness, and instead of being afraid, he embraces it. Is that wrong? Am I crazy for even thinking this? I don’t want to lose Alistair, but I can’t ignore Lucius, either. What does that say about me?"

She paused, staring at the words on the page. The truth was, she didn’t have any answers. All she could do was hope that, somehow, things would become clearer with time.

Closing the journal, she leaned back on the couch, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Before she knew it, she’d drifted off to sleep, the blanket pulled tightly around her as the TV played softly in the background.

The morning sunlight spilled through Victoria’s window, pulling her from a restless sleep. She groaned, reaching for her phone to silence the alarm blaring from her bedside table. Another day, another shift.

Rolling off the couch, she stretched, her muscles sore from sleeping in the same curled-up position all night. The dreams she’d had lingered on the edges of her mind—hazy fragments of Alistair, Lucius, and the chaos they brought into her life.

She shook it off as she moved through her routine. A hot shower helped wake her up, and soon she was dressed in her usual work attire: black leggings, sneakers, and a long-sleeve shirt to go under her coffee shop apron. With her bag slung over one shoulder and a travel mug of coffee in hand, she locked the door behind her and stepped into the brisk morning air.

By the time Victoria arrived at the coffee shop, the holiday rush was already in full swing. The line of customers stretched to the door, most looking frazzled and caffeine-deprived. She tied her apron on and jumped right into the chaos.

"Victoria, I need a venti peppermint mocha stat!" Manny called from the espresso machine, his voice tinged with its usual cheer.

"On it!" she replied, grabbing a cup and jotting down the order.

Manny, her coworker and partner in crime on most shifts, was the only thing keeping her sane some days. His quick wit and constant stream of jokes made even the busiest days tolerable.

"How’d you sleep?" he asked during a brief lull, wiping down the counter.

"Not great," she admitted, handing off a drink to a customer. "Too much on my mind."

"Let me guess—tall, dark, and broody?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

Victoria rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Something like that."

The morning passed in a blur of orders and holiday music, the kind of day that made time feel both impossibly fast and excruciatingly slow. When her lunch break finally arrived, she collapsed onto the couch in the back room, grateful for the silence.

She’d barely unwrapped her sandwich when Manny popped his head in.

"Hey, there’s someone at the counter asking for you," he said, a playful smirk on his face.

Victoria frowned, her stomach twisting. "Did he say who he was?"

"Nope, but he looks like someone’s wise uncle who knows all the best fishing spots."

Her lips quirked up in a smile. "That’s Francois."

"Who’s Francois?" Manny asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"You’ll see," Victoria said, standing up and heading for the counter.

Sure enough, Francois was there, his tall frame leaning casually against the counter. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his warm brown eyes sparkled as he greeted her with a wide grin. Dressed in a floral aloha shirt and khaki shorts, he looked every bit the laid-back island uncle he was.

"Victoria, there’s my favorite girl," Francois said, opening his arms for a quick hug across the counter.

"Francois! What are you doing here?" she asked, laughing as she hugged him.

"Ah, I was in the neighborhood," he said, his voice deep and soothing, like the roll of ocean waves. "Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing. You look tired, though. Life keeping you busy?"

"You have no idea," Victoria said, shaking her head.

They chatted for a bit, Francois updating her on the latest fishing trip he’d been on and a big family luau he was planning for Christmas. Francois had always been like a calm sea breeze to her, a steady presence in her life when things got chaotic.

"You know, you’re working too hard," he said, giving her a pointed look. "You should come to the luau. Take a break for once."

"I’ll think about it," Victoria said, smiling. "But you know how it is this time of year."

Francois nodded, his expression softening. "Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, yeah? You’re important too, Victoria."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak.

"Well, I won’t keep you," Francois said, stepping back. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Francois," Victoria said, her smile genuine.

As he left, Manny sidled up beside her, leaning on the counter.

"So, who’s Uncle Cool over there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A very close friend," Victoria replied. "He’s always looking out for me."

"Well, he seems like a good guy. You should take his advice and take a break."

Victoria laughed softly. "Yeah, maybe."

The rest of her shift passed uneventfully, though Francois’s words stuck with her. As she drove home that evening, she thought about the kind of life she wanted—a life with less chaos, more peace. And maybe, just maybe, it was possible to find that balance.