In Limbo - Part II
22:30 - London - February
Ask anyone and they'll tell you Nakiri Erina is anything but a romantic. Her hours are too long and her responsibilities too widespread. Between juggling her two restaurants and her responsibilities at Tootsuki, she hardly has time for a bubble bath, let alone a whirlwind romance.
Yet there she is, two timezones from her current home, with her livelihood in the hands of her sous chefs, naked in a bed she hasn't slept in since September and completely, utterly alone.
This is the last time I'm listening to Alice. You absolute idiot.
She doesn't know who she's angrier at – Alice, herself, or the man whose bed she's currently in.
Two hours into The Crown on Netflix and half a bottle of Bordeaux later, her phone buzzes. Annoyed, she swipes to answer, and practically snarls into the receiver. Earlier, she'd accidentally unearthed a pair of black lace-and-silk briefs from his laundry basket. To add insult to injury in her current precarious situation, she doesn't even recognise them. "What?"
Silence precedes a vague, helpless chuckle. "Nakiri, are you almost done already?"
"Done what?" She really should've gone hours ago, but a combination of spite and broken-heartedness keeps her rooted.
"With service. I didn't fly all the way to Santorini to drink by myself at your bar."
Her breath catches in her throat. "You're in Santorini?"
"Landed four hours ago." He pauses, and she can practically hear the gears clicking in his head, and the horror in his voice. "Nakiri. Why is it so quiet where you are?"
"I'm not at the restaurant." She sits up in bed, and suddenly it hurts to even speak, to even acknowledge the fact that he is there waiting for her when there are foreign panties in his washbasket. "I thought you'd be out on a date with some leggy blonde."
"You are the leggy blonde." The background sounds fade, and Yukihira's voice grows louder. She supposes he's made his exit. "Are you out on a date with some muscled Adonis?"
"I caught a flight to London this afternoon." She tries for indignance. What comes out is a glum, almost defeated mumble.
Silence again. When Yukihira speaks up again, his voice is touched by amusement. "What exactly were you planning on doing if I'd actually brought a leggy blonde back home to find you in my bed?"
"I guess we'll never know."
Yukihira laughs. "The panties are yours, in case you're wondering. I found them last week." He quietens, and his voice grows serious. "There's… no one else."
"Oh." The words refuse to come. But if she's honest, she's not even surprised any more. All of seven years, three lovers, and five moves across two continents later, she's still hung up on her high school boyfriend.
Apparently, he's done about as well forgetting her.
"Nakiri."
"Yeah?"
"Stay there."
She hugs his pillow to her chest. It smells like him. "I won't have too long."
"That's okay." Yukihira's voice softens – the way it always does before he pulls her in for a kiss. It's hard to believe she'd ever left him at all. "I have a belated Valentine's gift for you."
And as she mumbles in soft affirmation, she wonders how she could ever bear to leave him again.
