Super Associated

Epilogue

In the week since the radio show, I'd taken a few days off work to drive up to Aberdeen to visit Vaughn's family. I wasn't sure if they had heard the Loose Lipped show but if they had, I needed to apologise to them, face-to-face, for mentioning Vaughn and his suicide. His parents were gracious and forgave me, insisting that perhaps that I should have talked about Vaughn sooner, for the sake of my own sanity. They said that he wouldn't have wanted me to shut my heart off from anyone else. He would want me to be happy. 

After that, I visited Vaughn's resting place and told him all about Francis. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I drove back to London. Finally, my head was clear, I could think straight and I knew what it was I needed to do. 

As soon as I get back to London, I have to sort things out with Francis. 

We hadn't resolved anything during or after the radio show; after his question lingered in the air for a minute too long, I had a breakdown and walked out of the studio, heading home. I switched my phone off and didn't speak to anyone. In fact, I haven't turned my phone on since that night but I did call my sister and told her not to worry, and asked her to pass on the message to everyone else. I don't think Helena would have gone so far as to give Francis the message, though. 

Pulling up outside Francis' house, I double check the time on the clock in the car, wondering if he'd be home. It was a Saturday night and I knew he wouldn't be at work- Loose Lipped is a Monday to Friday show- but I know that Francis likes to go out with his friends every once in a while. Perhaps tonight is one of those nights when he's out on the town. Maybe I should just go home. Try again in the morning. 

I was about to start the car engine again when I spotted Francis jogging up the street. He was sweaty and had a baseball cap on but I knew that he spotted me. Slowing down until he was at a walking pace, he veered towards my car and came to open the door for me. I guess I was getting out then. 

"Hi," I awkwardly greet him, pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Looking him up and down, I can't help but wrinkle my nose up. "You look disgusting."

He laughs. "I'd love to say that you look disgusting, too, but that would be a lie," Francis smiles at me. Shutting my car door, he walks towards his house and invites me inside, kicking off his shoes and throwing his keys into a teacup that was on the sideboard in the hallway. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he drops it on the fourth step of the stairs and continues into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?"

"I'll have what you're having," I answer. When I see him take out baby spinach and Granny Smith apples, however, I quickly change my mind. "I'll have a glass of water actually. I'll leave you to drink the super-healthy smoothies."

Watching as he pottered around the kitchen, the smile didn't leave my lips once. I've always thought that Francis would make an excellent catch for someone; he's intelligent, funny, charismatic, he knows how to cook, he never takes himself too seriously and he will always treat you like a Queen. He looks great in a suit and also looks great in disgusting, smelly gym clothes after coming home from a run. His hair is always an artistic mess and his glasses give him that Clark Kent vibe that I find incredibly sexy. 

He's the full package, really. 

"Helena rang and said that you'd gone away for a few days," Francis commented after finishing blending his smoothie. Leaning against the countertop on the opposite side of the kitchen, he eyed me up without making it feel as if I was being interrogated, which I was thankful for. "Did you find the answers that you needed?"

I nod. "Yeah, I did. I think, in turn, I also found the answers that you needed, too," I confess. He frowns at that, his features looking devastated like I was going to deliver bad news. "For years, I refused to move on and I know that isn't healthy, clinging onto a guy that left me. Vaughn didn't think about me when he did what he did- he said it himself in the letter, I made him happy but not happy enough. If that's what our relationship was like, then it wouldn't have worked out between us.

"When I was away, I started to think about some of the things you said, about whether you could be my future." Francis' eyes widen when he hears me say those words. For a brief moment, hope overtook his features but it was brief and it disappears as quickly as it came. "I'm not sure if you are my future-"

Francis sighed. "Way to break the news, Romilly."

"I wasn't finished," I chastise him for interrupting me when I was in the flow. Settling my temper so I didn't lose my mind, I inhale deeply and continue. "I'm not sure if you are my future but I want to at least give it a go. No more being on a thing. No more being a layby. I won't ghost, I won't zombie. Drafting and cuffing season is off limits. The only peacocking and thirst trapping I'll do is in your Whatsapp messages, for your eyes only. Don't bring a snack pack over because I'll give you your own space in my closet."

Pausing so my words settle, I smile as I approach him. "I want strings attached, Francis, and if you'll let me, I would very much like to take you out on a date-date date."

"No more stashing?" Francis asks. 

I shake my head. "No more stashing. I will shout it from the rooftops, Francis. I'll go back on Loose Lipped and tell the nation: Francis Aubert is mine and all you bitches better back off."

"Ok," Francis says thoughtfully. "But you can still do the deeplinking thing where you go through all my social media posts from years ago and like them all. Gives me ego a boost."

I laugh. "Noted. Now, what about this date? You haven't answered me."

"I didn't?" Francis raises an eyebrow at me. "I thought it was rhetorical but if you really require an answer, then it's a yes. Always a 'yes' for you, Romilly."