The Place Beside Him

I called him before I could turn the message into something frightening.

"Does she know we're dating?"

"I told her. She asked whether you were responsible for my recent interest in terrible paintings."

"What did you say?"

"I admitted that I had received advice."

I looked toward Mia's room. "And does she know about Mia?"

"Yes. I haven't surprised her with a six-year-old."

"Good. I can confirm that it is an overwhelming experience."

He laughed, but I could hear the nerves beneath it.

For the rest of the week, he was worse than any man waiting to close a deal. He asked whether his apartment felt unwelcoming, whether Lily still liked the food she had liked at fifteen, whether meeting us immediately might be too much.

"Ask her," I said on Thursday.

"You make that sound very easy."

"I didn't say it would be easy."

He was quiet. Then he kissed my forehead and took out his phone.

On Friday, he went to the airport himself. Thomas drove, but Adrian waited at arrivals holding the ridiculous yellow scarf Lily had once left at his apartment.

He told me that much later. At the time, I received a message at seven twenty.

She's here. She says I look older.

I replied: Tell her you have been under considerable pressure from a pancake instructor.

On Saturday, they came to my apartment.

Lily had dark curls, brown eyes, and a mustard coat that made Adrian's charcoal one look even more severe. She held a paper bag from a bakery and stood a fraction behind him.

Mia stopped in the doorway.

"You're nineteen," she said.

"That is what my passport claims."

"I thought you would look more finished."

Lily blinked, then laughed.

"I thought so too, honestly."

Within twenty minutes, they were on the living-room floor building a cardboard castle. Lily cut windows while Mia explained the structural requirements of Gerald's bedroom.

Adrian stood beside me, watching them. His shoulders were rigid.

"You can sit down," I whispered.

"I am aware."

"You look as though you're waiting to be sentenced."

"That is not entirely inaccurate."

I touched his hand behind the kitchen doorway. He held on a moment longer than usual.

Lunch went well until Mia asked him to reach a plate on the top shelf. He lifted her instead, letting her retrieve it herself.

She squealed. "Higher, please."

He laughed and set her safely down.

Across the table, Lily's smile faded.

It lasted only a moment. She looked into her glass, then asked Mia about school. But I had seen it, and when Adrian noticed, he went quiet too.

After lunch, Mia took Thomas down to inspect the building's courtyard pigeons. My mother had arrived to collect her for an afternoon outing and seemed delighted to acquire a security escort.

Lily helped me clear the plates.

"She's lovely," she said.

"She liked you before you finished taking off your coat."

Lily smiled, then pressed her lips together.

"I thought I was going to hate her."

I waited.

"I know that sounds awful. She's six. But Dad keeps telling me about the things she says, and he answers when she calls, and I wondered whether he had found a smaller daughter who hadn't learned to be angry with him yet."

Her eyes shone. She looked furious with herself for it.

"Have you told him?" I asked.

"He starts explaining. Then I start trying to prove I had a reason to be hurt. We both get very articulate and nobody feels any better."

I dried my hands slowly.

"You don't have to make this visit comfortable for us."

She looked at me, surprised.

"And you don't have to like me immediately," I added. "Although I will probably keep offering you cake."

She laughed, wiping beneath one eye.

Adrian stood in the doorway. He had heard the last part, perhaps more. He looked at his daughter rather than asking me to interpret her.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked.

Lily hesitated, then picked up her coat.

I watched them leave. I wanted to help so badly that doing nothing felt physical. But he had to be the person beside her when she finally said what hurt.

They returned two hours later. Lily's cheeks were red from the cold. Adrian looked exhausted.

She kissed his cheek before going to wash her face.

He stayed by the door.

"She remembered every time," he said quietly.

I took his coat.

"I thought she was angry about the exhibition. She told me she had started bringing two tickets to everything. One for her mother. One she kept checking until the lights went down."

He looked at the floor. I had never seen him struggle so hard to hold still.

"What did you tell her?"

"That I should have been there."

I put my hand against his cheek. He turned into it, closing his eyes for a moment.

That evening, we ordered food. Lily sat beside her father rather than across from him. They argued about which film to watch, and when his phone vibrated, he silenced it.

She noticed. So did I.

Before leaving, Lily stopped in the hall with me.

"He likes you," she said.

"I like him too."

"He looks at you when something funny happens. He used to do that with me."

There was no accusation in it now, only a sadness I could recognize.

"He still did today," I said.

She looked toward him. He was waiting by the stairs, giving us room without disappearing.

"I know," she whispered.

On Sunday night, he called after taking her back to his apartment.

"She invited me to London next month. There is an exhibition."

I smiled into my pillow.

"Are you going?"

"I've already booked the flight."

Then his voice lowered.

"I wish you were here."

The longing in those five words settled beneath my skin. I lay in my quiet bedroom, imagining the warmth of him beside me, and finally stopped pretending I wanted less.

"So do I," I said.