My Favourite Part

27: midnight snack

Everyone has those staring-at-the-ceiling sort of nights, and, as hard as I've tried, tonight seems desperate to be one.

Eric was fast asleep by the time I got upstairs, with his long limbs tucked underneath him, neat and considerate, on his side of the bed. Even though the house is pin-drop-silent, save for Eric's slight snoring in my ear, and a few eruptions of sound from the east wing, it feels like the clogs turning in my head make little mechanical whirring noises with every new thought that pops up.

I can't remember it exactly, and Eric would know it better than I do, but I think C.S. Lewis said something about thinking. Something like: 'passing the night with a toothache is in part miserable because the night is spent both with a toothache, and the thought that one has a toothache.' Something like that. I don't think a toothache is what's wrong, but it would be so much easier if it was. This ache is one I can't place.

I've run through the obvious options: number one – guilt. I thought maybe it was that I felt bad about lying to Mum. But if ever there was a time when I understood the purpose of a lie, this lie in particular, it was now: nestled against Eric's chest, in the beautiful British countryside. If rational guilt was going to keep me up, it wouldn't choose tonight. Cross that one off. As soon as I rule it out, Eric rustles behind me, tangling his leg with mine, and I feel warm and safe. Definitely crossing that one off.

Number two, worry. Maybe it's Lolly's 'don't look so scared, Jelly' ringing in my ears; the thought that my being here is putting Eric's reputation in jeopardy. Is it? At home I understand what's at risk – Eric's job, Mum's sanity. Here I don't know what his family would think; I don't know what's on the line, and all the not knowing inspires a little nausea. Maybe that's it.

Number three... hunger? I chew on my inner lip, trying to remember what I've had to eat today. I had some orange juice before Kitty's little shopping trip, and then, of course, a bit of cheesecake in the afternoon; but between all the questions and tensions at dinner, I only managed to get down some rosé, cauliflower and truffle starter soup, and an after dinner mint. I thought the 'crippling fear of ruining my boyfriend's life' thing dwarfed a little hunger, but the sound of my gurgling stomach makes me glance down and reconsider.

The sound wakes Eric up, and his sleepy chuckle against the back of my neck is the sexiest sound.

"Someone hungry?"

"No, no," I whisper. Gurgle. "Go back to sleep."

"Evie."

When I sigh and roll over to face him, he rests his hand on my hip as he looks at me. Half his face is still buried in the white pillow, but the sleep-heavy eye I can see is trained on me, and ugh, he's ridiculously adorable.

He looks incredulous at first, but when he reads my expression, he raises his head and his brows are slanted in concern.

"Everything alright, my love?"

"Mhm. Just..." Gurgle "...thinking."

He smiles, before his eyes squint and search mine, then glance at the clock above the headboard, reading 2:10am.

"Feel like thinking out loud over some cheesecake?"

God, I love this man.

　————-  ♡  ————-

I'd never have guessed it, but the slowly rising glow of a black sky in the early hours of the morning, paired with the sound of the sound of sterling forks raking in unison make for a beautiful kind of peace.