It was a beautiful day in the city. The sun was beating down, but there was enough of a breeze to make the heat bearable. They strolled through her neighbourhood with their arms linked, chatting and catching up. He showed her some recent photos of Nathan and Haley's year-old son, and he explained the plot of his next novel. She told him about some new bands she was scouting, and where she was focusing her energy now that she was a single girl again. They made it to a nearby park and they walked among the trees, passing young families and running children. They came to a clearing and sat right in the middle, the sun on their skin as they laid down on the grass.
"How crazy is it that Brooke's back in Tree Hill?" Lucas asked, turning his head to face her.
"I know! It sounds like she's really happy there, though," Peyton mused, still with her eyes closed and facing skyward. "And with Emma, she really wanted to get out of the city."
Brooke had adopted a little girl about 6 months prior. She was beautiful and no one had ever made Brooke as happy as that baby had. No boy or clothes or money even came close to the contentment all her friends could now see that she felt.
"You ever think about coming home?" he asked. Her eyes snapped open and she turned to him.
"Not until about a month ago," she said quietly.
He inwardly kicked himself and closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. "Peyton, I'm sorry. I didn't meant to..."
"Luke, it's OK," she said with a chuckle. "My job's here, though. I can't really leave."
"Right," he said absently.
They lay there in the grass for about an hour, mostly in silence, until Peyton felt a shadow cast across her face. She opened her eyes to find a toddler, clad in a Baby Gap polo and jeans and a little sunhat, staring down at her.
"Hey there," she said with a smile.
The little boy grinned back at her, and Lucas turned to look at them both.
"What's your name, buddy?" she asked, sitting up so her eyes were level with his.
"Parker!" a woman shouted, running towards them. She looked about their age. "I'm so sorry," she said, kneeling down and picking up her son.
"It's no problem," Peyton insisted with a laugh. "He's beautiful."
"Thanks." The woman looked over to Lucas who was smiling. "Yours will be, too," she said with a grin.
"Oh, we...we're not," Peyton stuttered, but Lucas interrupted.
"As long as they look like their mother," he said with a cheeky smile, kissing Peyton's temple.
"You're officially the most adorable couple in the park!" the woman laughed. "Sorry again," she said before walking away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Peyton smacked Lucas on the chest.
"Lucas! What was that!?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh come on, Peyt. If you can't joke around with me, who can you joke around with?" he teased.
They got up and walked from the park to Lucas' favourite restaurant in the city, where they took their time eating and sipping beer on the patio. They walked back to Peyton's condo giggling and buzzy from the alcohol they'd had, and stopped along the way for another 6-pack.
Once inside the door, Peyton threw her keys on the counter and went to check her answering machine. It was blinking, signaling that she had a message, so she pressed the button to listen, and grabbed the beer Lucas had extended towards her.
"Mrs. Phillips, this is Maggie from Weissman's Gallery. I'm just calling to let you know that I found the piece you'd asked me to track down for your husband. It's currently at a gallery in Houston, but we'd gladly bring it in for you if you like. Call me when you get a moment, or pop in and we'll talk about delivery."
Peyton set her bottle on the counter and began picking at the label. Lucas just stood and stared at her. Just when he thought he'd pulled her from her funk, this message comes and reminds her of her failed marriage and the man she would have done anything for.
"Peyton..." he said softly.
"I'm um...I'm just going to go to bed," she said, never meeting his gaze. "You remember where everything is, right?"
"Yeah," he answered. He glanced at the clock. It wasn't even 9:00 yet. "Are you sure you're OK?"
"I didn't say I was," she said, looking at him finally. "Goodnight, Luke."
He watched as she retreated to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. He grabbed a pillow and a couple blankets from the hall closet, where she'd always kept them, and made up the couch so he could sleep there. He sat for a while, sipping his beer, angry at Joshua for hurting her like he had. How could he have done that without so much as a proper explanation? Peyton deserved so much more than that.
Once in her room, Peyton splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth to rid her mouth of the taste of beer. She pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top and lay down on her bed. Their bed. The first few nights after Joshua had left, she'd slept on her side, leaving half the bed empty and cold. Then she caught Something's Gotta Give on TBS and Diane Keaton explained that the key was to sleep in the middle of the bed. She'd been doing it ever since.
Tonight was different. Tonight she could picture him coming into the room and grinning at her when he saw her laying in the centre of the bed. He'd always come in and lay on top of her when she did it, and she'd squirm and giggle and promise not to let it happen again. She secretly loved that tradition. She loved his weight on top of her and his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear that she had to move.
She lay awake for a while and thought of him. She missed him. She missed how he'd smell like sawdust when he came home from work. She missed his rough and calloused hands running over her stomach as she lay reading at night. She missed him taking over the living room on Sunday to watch football, and yelling at the quarterbacks when they'd do something other than what he wanted them to. She missed coming home late from the office to find him sleeping on the couch with Miles Davis flowing through the apartment.
She got up from her bed and walked to her dresser, where she opened her jewelry box and took out the gold band she'd worn for three years. She held it in her hand and sighed at the thought of never wearing it again.
Most nights, she'd just deal with it and try to sleep, but this night, she knew that she had company. She had Lucas.
When she looked at the clock and saw that it was only midnight, she quietly opened the door and walked into the living room to see Lucas laying on the couch in the dark. He mustn't have heard her enter the room because he was startled when she spoke.
"Hi," she said. "Are you awake?"
"Yeah," he said softly, opening his eyes.
She walked towards him and sat on the floor next to the couch so her right shoulder was resting against the leather. She raised her arm and placed it on the couch alongside his body, and he reached for her hand.
"You OK?" he asked, already knowing the answer. She shook her head and he could see her blonde hair moving thanks to the light creeping into the room through the open windows.
"Sorry I just walked out on you," she said quietly.
"It's alright," he said with a breathy laugh.
They sat like that for a while - hands intertwined and silent. He was listening to her breathing and the sirens outside on the street. He'd known her for 10 years, and he knew better than to push her. When she wanted to talk, she'd talk.
"I miss him." She said it so quietly that he almost couldn't hear her.
"I know," he replied, stroking her arm with his free hand. She raised herself onto the couch and sat next to him.
"I miss him," she repeated, louder this time, and meeting his eyes with her own.
"I know." He sat up to face her.
"I miss him," she said once more, collapsing against him. He put his arms around her.
"I know."
He could feel the tears start to fall against his chest, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She'd told him over the phone during their last conversation before the divorce papers had arrived, that she hadn't cried yet. He knew she needed it. He just let her cry against him, and ran his hand in a circle over her back. He wished he could somehow take this pain away from her and put it on himself. He knew that he should have felt badly over his own relationship ending, but if he was being honest, knowing that Peyton was in pain hurt him more than his own breakup.
It must have been a half hour before she finally pulled away from him. Neither of them had said a word during that time. The only sounds in the room were her muffle sobs and sniffles.
She raised her hands to her face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm being such a girl."
"Peyton," he said seriously, pulling her hands away from her eyes and holding them in his. "You are allowed to do this, you know?"
"I don't want to though," she explained. "I don't want to miss him."
He reached out to wipe a freshly fallen tear. He didn't know any other way to help her, other than just being there. So he said nothing.
Peyton's bedroom had always been more of a sanctuary than anything else. Her and Joshua had spent a lot of time in there together. Every Saturday and Sunday morning, they'd drink coffee and listen to music and talk. They'd watch movies in the evenings, or laugh at the latest episode of The Office. It was where Joshua had proposed to her that morning, laying in bed. The art on the walls had been agreed upon by both of them. Even the 'heavy rotation pile' of CDs were a collection of their mutual favourites. It was a space where they had existed so much together, that all of a sudden was too hard to exist in alone.
"Lucas, can I sleep out here with you?" she asked timidly.
He let out a quick sigh and smiled at her. "Of course you can."
They lay back on the couch and she curled into his side.
"I just can't be in there right now," she explained.
"OK," he whispered.
He ran his hand over her arm and hoped to God that he could help fix her.