Eva was already sitting in her usual chair, a steaming cup of black coffee raised to her lips, when Dylan came in.
"I wasn't sure if I'd see you today," he said, sitting down across from her.
"Why wouldn't you see me?" Her tone was blank, but her eyes laughed above the rim of her cup. She took a sip; it burned going down, just the way she liked it.
"Maybe because of last night," he said. "Things didn't end that well."
"Things didn't end so badly," she said. Her mouth turned up in a small smile. "I had a wonderful time."
Dylan's heart fluttered in his chest. Suddenly self-conscious, he ducked his head. "I'm glad," he said. "I wanted you to like them."
"What are we talking about?" Lily let her bag slam into the floor. She dropped into the chair next to Eva.
"The superiority of the upper classes," Dylan said, shooting her a look.
She ignored it. "Toast them while you can," she said. "They won't be around much longer. Not that there are many left," she added after a moment. "The Crash took out most of 'em."
Dylan stole a glance at Eva; if she was bothered by Lily's comment, she didn't show it. She said that on purpose, he thought. But that's Lily, plunging ahead and damn the awkwardness.
"I saw Mom and Dad off this morning," Lily said as a waitress set a cup of coffee in front of her. She reached for the sugar. "They said they'll call when their train gets in."
"They left already?" Eva asked, a trace of disappointment in her voice.
"We're going out there in a few months," Dylan said. "You could come along."
Her eyes lit up briefly. "That would be strange, wouldn't it?" she asked. "Having me along?"
Dylan shook his head. His green eyes held her violet ones. "I can't think of anything I'd like better."
"I can," Lily said. "Some milk. This coffee tastes like evil."
*****
"When are you going to ask her?" Dylan ignored his sister's voice and kept drawing. "C'mon," Lily said, laying her hand in the middle of his paper. "We both know you want to. You invited her to Christmas. How many people get invited to Christmas? How many people get invited to anything?"
"Get your hand off the paper."
"Answer me."
He glared at her. "Fine. Say that's what I've been thinking. Say that is what I want. It doesn't mean I can do it."
"Why not? You think she'll say no?" He avoided her eyes. "Dylan Monet!"
"What?"
"Are you serious? You really think she doesn't want that, too? Have you been watching what I've been watching? Were you there last night? Or this morning? Or for the past year?"
"No, actually. I was sailing down the Rhine with a pack of bourgeoisie."
"Well, while you were doing that, the rest of us were watching Eva fall in love with you."
"You really think she loves me?" Dylan smoothed his paper. He capped his pen and dropped it in his pocket.
Lily watched him, shaking her head. "You say that like you don't know what it looks like when you see it."
Santa Monica
Three Days Later
From the street, the house was almost invisible, and in fact it wasn't exactly reachable from the street. A stone path, laid by Jack the summer after they bought it, led through a garden and up to the door. Roses, once carefully tended by Lily and now left to their own devices, climbed the walls. A set of French doors led from Jack and Rose's bedroom in the back down to the beach.
"It smells the same," Rose said happily.
Jack finished opening the last window. "It looks the same, too," he said. "Except for the dust cloths everywhere. Those kind of make it look haunted."
Rose rolled her eyes. "You know ghosts are opaque."
"I know the ghost we saw that time was, but these could be a different breed entirely."
"Oh, really?"
He enveloped her in his arms. "Really." Their lips met in a soft kiss. "Happy?" he asked, cradling her face.
She kissed his palm. "Ecstatic." Blindness couldn't stop her eyes from sparkling. "Can we unpack tomorrow? I hear the ocean calling."
He pulled her in for another kiss. "Of course we can."
Swimming was one of the few things Rose hadn't mastered. It wasn't something she could feel her way through, and as much as she loved listening to the ocean—especially at night when there was nothing but the waves in one ear and Jack's heartbeat in the other—it did nothing to help her know where she was. But that didn't stop her from running into it, curls flying behind her, shrieking with laughter. Jack followed close behind, his arms outstretched and ready to grab her.
Rose stopped when the water became waist deep. "It's so warm," she said, tilting her head toward the sun. "If I hadn't felt it myself, I wouldn't believe an ocean could be this warm."
Jack's arms snaked around her from behind. "It's nice." He pressed his face into her hair; the scent of lavender filled his next breath.
She covered his hands with hers. "Does it look the way it sounds?"
"How does it sound?"
"Beautiful and blue—like your eyes."
"It is beautiful. The water's so clear you can see straight to the bottom. Fish keep swimming around us. There aren't any big waves, just a bunch of small ones crashing against the rocks."
"I think that's what I hear. What else?"
"There are some people down the beach giving us funny looks."
She laughed. "Tell me about them."
*****
"You awake?" Rose murmured something in reply. She rolled onto her side and threw an arm across him. "Guess not," Jack said, breaking into a smile. He lightly kissed her eyes. They fluttered weakly, but remained closed. He brushed her curls away from her face. Her skin glowed in the light from the full moon. He wished there was some way he could capture the way she looked at that moment, but no drawing or painting, no matter how good, would ever fully capture her. He got snatches of her, but never the whole thing.
"That's absurd," she said the last time he showed her a drawing. "Look at this! It's perfect!" She had snatched it from his hands. "Jack, how can you not see how gifted you are?"
He moved to take the drawing back. "It's not that good," he said. "I've done better ones."
She held the paper out of his reach. "It's beautiful. Tell me you see that."
That had been the last time he showed her a drawing. After that, he hadn't drawn anything for almost two years.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry, Rose Petal." He kissed her eyelids again; it was a long time before he moved away.