I Love You to Death(30)

As I stand there looking at him, there’s a mixture of anger and sadness churning inside me. I want to tell him to leave. I want to open my mouth and scream at him to go. I’m angry that he’s here, but it’s anger because he knew to come, not because he’s standing here at my front door. I don’t want to need him and I don’t want to need him today especially.
But more than that, I really don’t want to need him at all. I don’t want to be that kind of person, the kind who can’t survive without having someone be there for them. Because no matter how much I might want it, I don’t want to need it. It seems so pathetic, makes me feel so pathetically useless.
It hurts being so alone, but I can’t let him see how much I want him here, how tempted I am to just let myself try. To let myself need him, just a little. I can’t risk it, I can’t risk him and I definitely can’t go through it all again, because that’s the part that hurts the most.
But nothing comes out. Only a defiant tear, which insists on making its way down my cheek, just when I thought I didn’t have anymore left. Luke sees this and without saying another word, he pushes his way into my apartment, puts his boxes on the floor, does the same thing with the bags in my hands and pulls me into his arms.
Again.
And again, it seems I’m helpless to stop it.
As I stand there wrapped in his arms, for some reason the only thought that enters my head is that Luke is in my house. That’s it. How does he even know where I live? Once more, all I feel are his arms holding me against him. Once more, all I can smell is him. And once more, I find myself crying into his chest, making a complete fool of myself.
We stand there like this for ages, neither of us saying anything. It’s just my tears and Luke’s arms wrapped around me and I don’t know what the f*ck is going on anymore; with me, with Luke, with anything.
Eventually it’s Luke who breaks the silence, whispering in my ear words I hadn’t ever expected to hear, words I never knew could even help, words that have absolutely nothing to do with today.
He whispers that Liam is gone now, he won’t be at work ever again and everything will be okay. He whispers that I will be okay and I won’t have to see him again. Everything will be alright now. He whispers that it’s okay for me to feel this way, he understands, that I can talk to him if I want to, if I need to. I wonder if he even knows what I’m really feeling. Even I don’t know what that is any more.
All I do know is that standing here in Luke’s arms, feels so incredibly comforting. Standing in his arms, feels warm and safe, even with his mouth at my ear and his breath on my skin. But then he says nothing more. He just gently strokes my hair until I stop crying.
Eventually I have to pull away. "Sorry," I whisper, not looking at him. "I’m sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for Ash," he answers softly, pushing my hair back from my face and gently tilting my chin, making me look at him. There’s no pity on his face now, no sorrow either. He just looks as if he wishes he could do something to make it all go away. "Go and wash your face, then come back and see what I’ve brought you."
He smiles softly at me as he tucks my hair behind my ear. The tiniest shiver runs down my spine in response and I can only nod, before walking into the bathroom to do as I was asked.
As I stand at the sink, I look at the tiny heart drawn on the mirror. It’s almost gone now, barely visible anymore. Days, weeks and months of shower steam slowly working it off. I don’t want to redraw it because then it would stop being something Sam had put there and become something I’d drawn. Instead I have to slowly watch it fade from my life.
Just like him.
I wonder when he drew it, and I wonder why I never noticed it until he was gone. Did he know? Did he somehow know he was going to die all along and if he did, why the hell did he stay with me?
Did he want to just slowly disappear from my life like the stupid heart he drew on my mirror? I can’t believe that and I can’t watch it either. So without thinking about it, I reach out and wipe the last remaining bits off the mirror with my thumb.
Now it’s gone. Just like Sam. And I don’t feel any different.
I wash my face and dry my hands before quickly dragging a brush through my hair. I look like I’ve been crying but the damage isn’t too bad and despite knowing it shouldn’t matter, I’m glad. When I come back out, I see Luke has put my bags of groceries in the kitchen and picked up the boxes he bought and is now laying whatever’s inside them, out on the table. As I come closer I see they are cupcakes, lots of cupcakes in lots of different flavours.
"What’s this?"
He looks at me with an expression that says, are you seriously asking me this?
I raise my eyebrows at him and shrug. I like that we’re both now acting as though me crying all over him again, is not an issue we need to discuss. I’m glad that what happened yesterday between us is over; gone, washed away like the tears I just washed down the drain. I’m relieved he seems to be so readily able to forget that I was a complete bitch, to him especially.
"These are your birthday cakes," he says, waving his arm over the selection. "I don’t know which flavour is your favourite, so I baked you one of every sort."
"You made all of these?" I ask him, momentarily shocked at the effort he’s gone to, for me.
"Uh huh," he replies cautiously. "I did."
"Shit Luke, that’s a lot of cupcakes," I say quickly eyeballing the table in front of me. "And each one is a different flavour? This must have taken you forever?"