Page 135 of Hamartia

“Just over the river, cool. It’s a good vibe there.”

“It is. I love Paris. I’ve often thought about moving here for a couple of years too.”

I’d told her that we were moving to New York in a year or so, when Lili starts pre-k there. But that we’d planned to live for a bit in every city we loved eventually. She’d looked inspired.

“I would recommend it. I love it here too. Be sad to leave it.”

“New York is wonderful as well though, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

We shoot the shit for a little longer while she switches out the house slippers with her boots and then she’s gone. To be back on Friday to do the part about Finn.

About my father.

I don’t have the same issue I used to have in calling him that. Yeah, I still havesomeissues, but they’re different ones. They’re more about loss and grief than anything else. Because once I’d dealt with the resentment and the hatred and the bitterness, I’d uncovered a whole lot of other shit under there.

I’m working on those too. I’m getting there. I’d even visited his grave. It was a whole process. One I’d never have imagined for myself ten years ago. But there were a lot of things I didn’t imagine for myself ten years ago.

I grab a quick dinner of leftover chicken and salad, and then take a shower. I think about jerking off because I haven’t seen him in person in eight days and I don’t want to blow my load as soon as he walks through the door. But I decide against it. He’ll be here in a matter of hours. I can wait that long for fuck’s sake.

There’s a text on my phone when I get out telling me he’s landed and is in the car.

Camille calls to check the plans for Sunday, which we’d already gone over multiple times. She doesn’t get stressed often, Camille, but when she does it’s normally related to Lili. I tell her it’ll be fine and that since she’s three and won’t even remember it, it doesn’t matter if it all goes wrong. Surprisingly,that doesn’t fucking help, Rapha.She hangs up straight after, warning me not to be late with the cake.

I hadn’t meant to dose off, but I’m woken by the feel of my journal being extracted from my hands, the distinct presence above where I’m lying on the couch. When I open my eyes, he’s staring down at me with a soft mouth and softer eyes.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he says.

I reach out and take his hand, pulling him on top of me. He buries his face in my neck and sighs, before leaning up to kiss me, deep and slow.

“How was your flight?” I ask, as I place kiss under his jaw, under his ear.

“Long. I did not sleep.”

“No? But you had your own bed,your own room?”

The fashion label had sent him and Ada a fucking jet to fly them from Seoul to Paris for the show tomorrow, even though he’d have been coming here anyway. The currency of brands and their brand ambassadors during Paris Fashion Week was private jets and pretty clothes.

“Yes, but I lay awake wishing you were there so we could join the airplane club and so I couldn’t sleep.”

I smile. He’s fucking adorable. “It’s the mile high club, baby. But yeah, I can see how that would have been distracting.”

Jae settles comfortably on top of my chest, tucking his head under my chin. He smells good even with thirteen hours of flight on him. His hair is his natural brown black these days—had been for a while now—and it was my new preference. It matched his eyes and made his skin look like sculpted marble. After five years, he’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You saw Lili today?” he asks, sleepily.

“Not today. I had the interview with Descript, remember.”

“Ah, yes, sorry. It went well?”

“I think so. We talked a lot about your asshole.”

“My religious, soul-shifting asshole?” He laughs but it sounds heavy with exhaustion.

“Did you eat on the plane at least?”

“A little.” He lifts his head and looks up at me. “But I think I would like some pizza. With mushrooms. Some pizza and wine and we can eat it in bed. Then I will suck your cock.”