The Muse's Undoing

Fuck, I missed him.

The Two E Lounge inside The Pierre serves high tea, which is what appears to be happening when we come in. Several groups of older women—likely tourists—gather around tables laden with pots of tea and plates of biscuits.

Matthew and I walk to the bar. He orders me another vodka tonic and gets himself some tea.

“You’re not drinking?” I ask.

“Not right now. I’m worried I might overdo it.”

I hang my cane on a hook underneath the bar and lean an elbow on top. “Don’t let me overdo it, then.”

“One drink, that’s it,” he promises. “Then my place.”

We share a glance. He smiles faintly. “I tried to warn you.”

“I know you did,” I say, assuming he’s referring to the bizarre aftermath of our kiss.

“Listen, I want to explain about why I said what I said the other night…”

I shake my head, dismissing the topic. “Please, no. No need. I think it’s fair to say we both lost it.”

He takes my hand and holds it in both of his, resting them on his thigh. “Okay,” he whispers. “But I wish I would have stayed.”

“I wish I would have talked to you,” I admit.

“We can do better,” he says. “I have faith in us.”

I manage a smile.

“But,” he adds, “This means I have to ask…”

I brace myself and sit back as the bartender delivers my drink. With my free hand, I lift it to my mouth and take a sip. It’s the best martini I’ve ever tasted.

“Do you wanna forget about it?” Matthew asks. “I’d totally understand if you did.”

“I can’t,” I confess.

“That’s not the question.”

No. It wasn’t. “Do you want to forget about it?” I ask instead. “You keep giving me all these off ramps, and I’m wondering if maybe I’m coming on too strong.”

“No. I want this. I really want this. But I need you to know I can live without it. Like if it’s too much, or you’re not comfortable, I get it. I’m not going anywhere. Like you won’t lose me over this. If there’s a line we can’t cross, I can live with that. You’re way too important to me.”

“I needed to hear that,” I say in a moment of total unguardedness.

He squeezes my hand. “I understand. It’s okay.” And then he starts to let go.

I hang on tight. “Matty, please—don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want to forget. And there’s no line.” I swallow hard because what I’m about to say is the most vulnerable thing I’ll ever say with my clothes on. “I want you.”

His brows lift as we stare at each other. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t think we’re done yet.”

He lets a small smile bend one corner of his mouth. “Is this the ‘get it out of our system’ theory?”

I grin back at him. “Maybe.”

“And if that doesn’t work, then we’d be what? Friends with benefits?”