Page 149 of Rivals

The elephant is still sitting on my shoulders, the why. I don’t want to ask, but I still want to know. I’m afraid the answer will be because I said what I said. I will regret those words for the rest of my life. I also don’t want to ask her because I want us to move on. You can’t move on if you keep revisiting the past, seventy-two hours or five years ago. It doesn’t matter, and we can’t go back.

We eat in silence, watching the show I put on earlier. After I’m done eating, I shift to lay my head on her lap. Her hands run through my hair, and I sigh into her legs. “You can ask me,” she says quietly. “I know you want to know why,” she says.

I lay there for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. I don’t want to be insensitive, but I know Revna. Even if I want to treat her like a rare painting, she won’t want that. My feelings aside, she’s tough. “I’m afraid to ask,” I say into her leggings.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers.

“It’s not yours, either,” I say back. My heart twists, and my nose burns. How could she think that any of his is her fault? If anything, it is mine.

“I would beg to differ. But like you said earlier, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s part of the past, and it’s time to move on.” I turn so my back is on the cushions and look up at her while she gazes down at me. “We still have a set of paintings to do,” she says, brushing my hair back.

I startle at her words. I figured she would want to drop out. The competition is the last thing on my mind. That’s why I never brought it up. “You seriously want to do it? Revna, I don’t know. We have maybe two and a half weeks. I don’t know if we can do all of it.”

She shrugs and continues to run her hand through my hair. “I feel like I have to do it. Not out of obligation because we’re in this, but because I think the woman from the Plaza could be right. What you and I have made together is so unique. I’ve never seen anyone do it like us before. I’m not saying we’re all special and groundbreaking, but…” she trails off. “This piece is about our story, Lachlan. I feel like I need to do it to move on, for us to move on. I feel like it’s a step that needs to be taken after…everything,” she whispers the last words, and I sit up and tug her onto my lap.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what we will do. But it means that we won’t be able to stop. Are you sure you can take that? Don’t you need some rest?”

“I mean, yeah. I feel like I can sleep for years, but I also feel that gnawing feeling, you know? I have to do it, otherwise—“

“You’ll feel like you’re going to rip your heart out?”

“Yeah,” she rasps. I nod.

“Well then, little bird, let’s get back to work.” She leans forward and nibbles my lower lip before sweeping her tongue over the sting.

“I missed these lips,” she murmurs against me. I grab the back of her neck and crush my mouth to hers. Our tongues struggle for dominance, and I immediately lose the battle.

“Baby,” I pull back. She hums, her eyes still closed as she draws her nose up and down my face. “You have all the power right now. Tell me what you want, and you will have it.”

She smirks. “Just you.” Her hand slides down to my fly, drawing her finger over the zipper.

“Are you sure we should be…” I want her very badly right now. But I also don’t want to hurt her. She sighs and lays her head on my shoulder.

“No, we shouldn’t. The doctor said ‘no vigorous activity,’” she says mockingly. I grin and kiss her cheekbone.

“Soon enough, my love. In the meantime, let’s blow the judges away.” She smiles and nods while her head is still laid against me.

“You know…Betty was worried about you. Maybe you should call her.” She sighs.

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Do you want me to call her?” I ask. She shakes her head yes. “Alright, I’ll keep it vague.”

“Thank you,” she says, clasping my beard with her palm.

She lifts off my lap and goes to our stacked-up sketches, flipping through them. “You know, I thought of something for one of the last two panels.”

“I did, too.” Her eyebrow lifts.

“Are you going to tell me?” she asks.

“Let’s sketch it first, then we can decide.” She nods and goes to the jar of pencils. Once she makes herself comfortable on the floor, I grab my phone and call Betty.

“Oh, Lachlan, is she alright? I’ve been worried sick.”

“Hey, Betty. Yeah, she’s fine, but uh—she needs a few weeks.”

“Oh, ok, that’s fine…” she trails off. “You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?” She states it more as a fact instead of a question.