“Need help in there?”
“No . . . I want to do this . . . for you.”
I take a sip of the crisp, cold wine. As I sit at the table, I pull my computer closer to me.
Guess it’s time to finish this article, and we can put a bow on whatever this is before it becomes too much.
25
Layla
After we are done eating, Cain volunteers to clean up the mess while I sit in front of my computer again. Finishing the last part of the article means that this happy chapter is going to end.
I’m not ready for what happens after publishing but making Cain proud of my work drives me to finish the task. A new sense of inspiration flows through me as my fingers hit the keyboard at an alarmingly fast pace. The emotions that The Elysian evokes pour through me. Hopefully, this article will allow everyone to see and feel it, too.
Everyone, but especially Cain.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, but at one point, I notice Cain place a bottle of water in front of me. I take a sip and then I’m back at it.
He keeps himself busy as I check my notes, reread phrases, remaster sentence structure. I have no clue what he’s doing, but he’s keeping close and not hovering; I appreciate it.
Having him here could be a distraction, but he’s not like that. He understands what I need. I feel comfortable in my skin around him. I don’t need to be a hostess to a guest.
He just fits into my life.
I continue to type, and soon, I realize I’m done. Everything that I felt that week is in the article. None of the unhappiness of walking away from him that last day has seeped back into the writing.
I look up from the computer, bleary-eyed, and scrub at the wariness inside me. The moment of truth. Was he here just because of the article, and now that it’s perfect, will he walk away for good?
In the quiet of the apartment, I hear his footsteps as he approaches me. I turn my head to him; his hair is disheveled, and his eyes are glassy. I woke him.
What time is it?
I glance over at the clock, and that’s when I see it’s after one in the morning.
“Did I wake you up?” I ask. Although, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know the answer since the moment I stopped working, he came in to check on me, but for some reason, I want to hear him say it.
“I am here because of you. I’m also up because of you.” His words do funny things to my stomach, making me feel a surge of energy, but there’s no time for that. Instead, I turn from him and look back down at my computer.
“Do you want to read it?” My voice is practically a whisper, and he takes the seat across from me.
“Yes,” he answers.
I slide my computer across the surface of the table, the squeaking sound jarring at this time of night. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
I hope he likes the changes.
As he reads, I fidget with my fingers under the table, needing an outlet for my anxiety. I care what he thinks about this piece more than I want to voice.
He is his property. In turn, this piece is about him. To someone who doesn’t know how he feels about the development he constructed, they might miss it, but he won’t miss anything I’ve written here.
The Elysian is Cain Archer. And Cain Archer is The Elysian.
Time seems to stand still as I wait for him to read. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face is neutral, the stoic look he gives when you can’t ascertain what he means. Finally, he closes the top of the computer.
The sound of it shutting has my hands shaking in my lap. I lift my eyes to look into his. At first, he gives nothing away. Then the right side of his lips tip. Instantly, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My shoulders uncoil.
“It’s phenomenal.” His voice is laced with pride. “The changes . . .”
“Did you like them?”
“How can you even ask that?” He leans forward, cocking his head to the right. “Where did the changes come from?”
At first, I don’t understand what he means. He saw me typing, so they came from my head, but then I understand what he means. He means where I got the inspiration to write this. “They came from you.”
He doesn’t stop staring at me as he thinks of how to respond. “What do you mean they came from me?”
“Having you here brought back the memories of seeing you, talking to you, smelling you. That brought it all to life. I remember the colors and the sounds.” My cheeks become warm, and I look down.