The New Normal (Solange)

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

There were few things Tristan dreaded doing than coming into work these days. He’d never thought of his funeral home as lifeless, but the past months had proved dull and uninspiring. Perfunctory. Fear should have been gripping his stomach – fear that the impending inspection would go poorly, due to missing rings and fillings from decedents. Instead, dullness, sharp and hollow, settled into his bones. He felt it most acutely in the early mornings when he and Solange were the only ones around and late at night when it was just him in that stupid, big apartment. The times in between, he still could smile and laugh and empathize. Do his work, eat, tell Leopold fantastic stories, make morbid jokes with Torben, listen to Gwen’s persistent prattle.

He led an otherwise fulfilling life and he knew it. A better man would be thankful for the things in his life that made it worth living.

But Tristan wasn’t as content as he should have been. And the sharp sound of Solange’s high heels in the hallway at the funeral home were a ticking bomb in the back of his mind. He wondered if he would explode from wanting one of these days. Watching her pull her hair back and out of her jacket collar, just barely showing off the back of her long neck stirred acute and shameful desire in him. Hearing her talk to some unseen friend on the telephone, jealousy. It was irrational. Embarrassing. He’d stopped sleeping altogether – settling on twenty minute snatches of rest during his lunch break or micro-naps in the hearse after services.

So totally unlike him.

He was all shades of awkward. A cynical optimist, comprised of bad jokes and lofty romantic notions and morbid fascinations. Not cut out for this scorned-lover sh*t. Especially since the break-up had been a mutual decision. No one’s fault.

It would have been easier if Tristan could lay blame somewhere. Instead, he could only plaster a false, but convincing demeanor of calmness and go about his days. Try not to let Solange know he missed her even though she was right there. Too much of a coward to do anything about it. What was supposed to be a few weeks of a break had turned into months of being broken up and that didn’t seem like something you came back from.

Especially since the mysterious blackmailer hadn’t sent any more letters. Things still disappeared from the embalming room if Tristan didn’t lock them in his office, which was a short-term solution to a long-term problem.

This morning began like all others had in the weeks since the break-up. A sleepless night bled into morning. Tristan brushed his teeth in the shower and shrugged on his suit. Ran early morning errands. The only marked difference about this morning, as opposed all the other mornings this week was that one of Tristan’s errands had been a trip to the barber shop for what was supposed to be a quick trim.

He’d fallen asleep in the chair. And when he woke, his hair was gone. Short, clean-cut. Horrific.

The fear he ought to be feeling for his job security, for his failed relationship, for the business he’d built in the last decade rained down on his unsuspecting hairdresser. It was like being some unruly teenager again. You call this a trim? What the f*ck, man? Why didn’t you wake me up? God…! Rash and angry, Tristan had stormed out of the barber shop without paying, and driven to work at reckless speeds. And to his dismay, Solange’s car was already parked in its designated spot. So much for slipping past her unnoticed. He tried to make as little noise as possible, walking up to the front door. Avoiding the gravel, treading lightly. He’d been so good about getting here before her, at locking himself in his office with paperwork so as not to make things awkward between them. Now, he just had to tip-toe past the front desk and-

The visitor bell attached to the front door rang, signaling his arrival. Somehow, Tristan had forgotten about that… He averted his eyes, mumbled some sort of vague greeting and shuffled towards his office. He accidentally caught her eye anyways.

Too late for sneaking in…

“Morning,” he said, drawing himself to full height. It was supposed to make him feel cool and nonchalant. Like he hadn’t just lost his cool at a hairdresser. Like he had consciously chosen some sort of style change. Like it was no big deal. Instead, it just made him feel like a lanky teenager. In a foreign body. His hands swung at his sides like unsteady pendulums. A smile cracked across his lips because mortified though he was, Solange was looking at him and even though he hated himself for it, he still got stupidly giddy when she looked at him. Practically drunk when she smiled at him. “Happy Monday.”

Don’t say anything about the hair, he tried to tell her telepathically. To himself, Don’t say anything stupid.

“Did you have a good weekend?” he asked. Which wasn’t utterly stupid, but made him feel like sinking into the carpet anyways because asking was dangerous territory. It opened up a world of discoveries he did not want to make. It slayed him because he used to know the answer to that question before the words sprang from her lips. “Like… do anything exciting?”

There it was. The actual stupid words. The rambling. Good to know you haven’t lost your touch…

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Peanut Butter had always been sort of a comfort food for Solange. Her Grandmother had often made peanut butter sandwiches when she was sick and she'd eat them with a glass of milk while laying in bed. For dealing with a bad grade, peanut butter cookies were always a very helpful solution. The nutty taste always soothed something in her soul as strange as it sounded. And the truth was lately she couldn't seem to keep enough of the stuff in stock at her apartment.

She knew the whole break up had been her idea in the first place but she couldn't help but wonder if it had been a very big mistake. She'd foolishly hoped that they'd just stay out of trouble for a little while and track down the blackmailer. Once the person was gone then they could go back to being together and being happy. She'd been thinking the whole thing would take a couple weeks at most...they were coming up on three months apart. She had never thought it would end up lasting this long.

Honestly she was beginning to worry that this might go on for a long time still. She wondered and feared if they didn't act soon that their relationship would be irreparable. There was really only so long you could be broken up and still expect there to be a chance of getting back together, even if the break-up was a fairly mutual agreement. The thing was Solange just didn't know how to go about fixing this. She couldn't until they didn't have the ax of the blackmailer hanging over them.

She had gotten to work early that morning in order to get a head start on the day (and because she was tired of tossing and turning in her bed). She sat her usual desk in the front lobby as she went over the schedule for the day. The bell gave a little chime in signal that someone had come in and she glanced up from her work to greet the customer, a very familiar looking young man in business dress.

“Morning,” he said and she gave him a kind smile.

"Good morning. Can I..." she began before cutting herself off as it suddenly registered. "Tristan?!" And suddenly there was no mistaking the short haired man before as Tristan. What on earth had happened to him?! She was trying not to make a big deal out of it but where had all his hair gone?! The hair she had loved running her fingers through and tugging playfully on...it was gone. Surely Tristan hadn't just woken up and decided cut off all of his long hair!

But he seemed very intent on steering clear of that topic. “Did you have a good weekend?” he asked her politely instead. “Like… do anything exciting?”

She broke her shocked gaze and sighed softly. They use to spend the weekend together doing the kind of stuff a boyfriend and girlfriend usually do...going to movies, having dinner out the occasional homemade date night at one of their apartments. Those almost felt like a lifetime ago now.

"My weekend was good. Went to the club with Devi Saturday night and just relaxed on Sunday," she told him. Reverting back to simple small talk like this with him just felt so wrong. "How about you? How was your...morning?" she asked, still confused by the hair situation but she got the feeling it would be best not to address it directly. It definitely hadn't been that way Friday night when they'd closed.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Recognition finally registered in Solange’s eyes. If he’d cut his hair intentionally to shock, Tristan might have enjoyed throwing her off-kilter. But instead, he kind of wanted to disappear into the carpet. Or at least hide in the embalming room for a while. Instead, he maintained his cocksure positioning, his uncomfortable grimace-y smile, and listened.

"My weekend was good. Went to the club with Devi Saturday night and just relaxed on Sunday," said Solange. Pinpricks of jealous curiosity made Tristan’s heart bleed. So she was going out again already? Was she seeing anybody? Trying to? Maybe it was time he did the same, after all. At least Solange could say Devi made her go. No one would believe him if Tristan said Torben dragged him onto the singles’ scene…

"How about you? How was your...morning?" she asked.

“Um.”

Tristan had never claimed to be an articulate man.

“I got a free haircut,” he said, trying to put a positive spin on the unfortunate reality of falling asleep and letting your barber take a pair of hedge clippers to your scalp. “That’s been my morning.”

He crossed the room and walked over to the coffee machine stored beside her desk. He’d need the caffeine if he was going to survive today.

You’re the one who started small talking…

“So… How’s Devi?” he asked. “You two still, y’know…” Insert weird hand-gesture meant to mean “best friends”, but looked more like Tristan was trying to collect energy the size and shape of a baseball. He turned to the machine and began to set it up.

Don’t say anything else until you have a cup of coffee or five.

“I’ll bet she’s happy to have your Saturdays back,” he said anyways. It came out about as bitter as the black coffee he was making. As tepid and uninspired, too. Embarrassment flooded his ears and without his long hair, he couldn’t hide the fact that they were turning tomato red. “Er… Ignore me. That was uncalled for. Sorry.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Going to the club with Devi had been kind of miserable, honestly. She'd enjoyed hanging out with her friend, but she just couldn't get into the whole club thing anymore. It had been hard enough to convince her best friend that the break up and the ensuing heartbreak had been a voluntary and mutual decision. She felt like she owed it to Devi to just suck it up and go out every once in a while to at least pretend like she was doing better now. In the end she hadn't much strayed from the bar and had refused the couple of offers to buy her a drink. Devi had been frustrated but understanding...her friend just wanted her to feel better and she knew that.

It was hard to feel better though when they'd gone from admitting they loved each other to making small talk like they had when she'd first started. He'd ask about her weekend, she'd ask about his morning...but this time she was anticipating a major story. The hair was going to take some getting use to. It wasn't that he didn't look good...he looked really good...this was just something she knew he wouldn't ever do on purpose.

“I got a free haircut,” he said vaguely. “That’s been my morning.”

Solange bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh or crack a grin. Her poor Trist...well, not her Trist anymore. Three months later and she still had trouble with that. "I think you look very nice," she told him with a gentle look.

“So… How’s Devi? You two still, y’know…” he asked as she raised a brow at him, trying to figure out what he was indicating with his hand gestures. “I’ll bet she’s happy to have your Saturdays back,” he said suddenly in a way that really stung. The bitterness in his voice took her by surprise.

"Tristan, I..." she stammered a bit in shock.

“Er… Ignore me. That was uncalled for. Sorry.” he tried to brush it off but by now the initial shock had worn off and she was bristling at the insinuation that she was going out every Saturday and wasn't hurting like he was.

"No. I'm not going to ignore you," she said sharply. "It most certainly was uncalled for. What exactly were you trying to say? I'm very curious now."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

“Nothing,” Tristan said. “I’m not… I’m not thinking clearly. I’m not thinking at all.”

He was not a pleasant person without sleep or caffeine. Usually the type to mumble greetings and wander off in vague search for one or the other. But without sleep, caffeine, his girlfriend or his hair, Tristan was falling apart. He reached up to run his hand through his hair, twist it around his finger, but there was barely anything to grip onto.

“Just. Talking, really,” he said, pouring coffee grounds into the machine. “Haven’t…”

A yawn punctuated his sentence unnecessarily.

“Haven’t had the best of mornings. Don’t need to take it out on you,” he told her. “Sorry.”

He wasn’t going to tell her that he was scared and jealous that she was out there clubbing and his idea of a fun night was trying to paint and then taking an exacto-knife to said paintings because the colors were too muddy and the lines unclear. Or that she’d probably chatted up a dozen other guys and danced and drank with at least one of them and some lucky b*stard had probably held her on the dance floor and the only time they’d ever gone out dancing together had been an accident and back then, he’d been her creepy and bitter boss and she’d been…

It really had always been that way, hadn’t it? She was too good for him. He was some dumb and bitter mortician and she was…

smartandbeautifulandfunnyandkindandandand
And she had this way of rolling her eyes
And this way of pursing her lips and flaring her nostrils
And when she laughed…

It hurt to realize – not for the first or last time – that he was still in love with Solange.

“Really, I am. Sorry.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Was that what Tristan honestly thought? That she was out partying it up with random guys all weekend? It upset her to think he believed he was the only one hurting from this break up. It made her irrationally angry mainly because a part of her feared that he still resented her for bring this idea up in the first place. At the time it had seemed like a logical solution but it was becoming harder to justify the longer this whole mess went on. Things were still occasionally going missing with no explanation and there was no telling if or when the person would be caught.

“Nothing. I’m not… I’m not thinking clearly. I’m not thinking at all. Just. Talking, really. Haven't..." he old her before getting cut off by a long yawn. “Haven’t had the best of mornings. Don’t need to take it out on you. Sorry. Really, I am. Sorry.”

She knew that even if he was just taking out a bad morning on her that it was only releasing some pent up anger that was still festering in him. But her own anger was gone now like all of the air going out of a balloon because she also knew that he would never be purposefully malicious. He had a truly good heart...it was part of what had made her fall in love with him. He was hurting now, though, and it was all her fault. She felt even more horrible now.

Worry filled her as it seemed like Tristan wasn't getting near enough sleep. She stepped up to stand in front of him, blue eyes meeting his with soft concern. Almost unthinkingly, she reached a hand up to his face, thumb brushing lightly over the bags that were forming under his eyes and making him look like the weight of the world was on him.

A moment later she realized what she was doing and broke the eyes contact, pulling her hand away. A heavy sigh heaved her chest as she tried to glance anywhere else other than up at Tristan. She was still very much in love with him and she missed him terribly even as he stood right in front of her. She was definitely beginning to see what everyone meant when they spoke of the dangers of office relationships. It really hurt when it ended...however mutually and (hopefully) temporary.

"You look like its been a rough morning...I certainly can't fault you for that," she assured him, looking up at him slowly. "It might be a good idea for you to try and get some sleep in your office. I can handle things out here for an hour or two. I'll bring you your coffee in a little while." She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. He definitely seemed like he could use a little more rest.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange’s feather light touch on Tristan’s skin burned him. Branded him. Any half-formed thoughts of making her jealous somehow, someway, dissipated. Hers. That’s what he was and breaking up hadn’t changed that. He was in love with her and disgusted with himself for it. His eyes fell shut as Solange’s thum traced beneath his eyes, his cheekbone and instinctively, he arched forward as if to kiss her.

But Solange had flitted away by the time he reacted. The moment had passed.

"You look like it’s been a rough morning...I certainly can't fault you for that," she assured him, looking up at him slowly. "It might be a good idea for you to try and get some sleep in your office. I can handle things out here for an hour or two. I'll bring you your coffee in a little while."

“Don’t,” Tristan said. His voice was deep, as it should have been, but too tinged with fatigue to sound commanding. He offered her the best approximation of a smile he had in his arsenal these days. “I’ve gotta learn to take better care of myself. You’ve got plenty to do without me taking a nap during office hours.”

He pulled down a Styrofoam cup and looked over at Solange. She wasn’t looking at him. He wouldn’t have looked at himself, either, if he was her.

God, I’m an *ss, he thought, looking back at the carafe and watching the coffee percolate in. He shook his head.

“Thanks, though,” he said. “That was very… considerate of you to offer.”

Are you forty? Who says ‘considerate’? To their ex-girlfriend? About coffee? Jesus, Tristan, get a grip.

The small talk was killing him. He had always been particularly bad at small talk. Post-break-up small talk was the worst. Sometimes, he still ran into his ex-ex-girlfriend at the hospital en route to the morgue. They exchanged pleasantries, as if she hadn’t called him an unmarriagable man child; as if he’d never seen her naked. As if they hadn’t practically lived together, as if they’d never had sex.

At least we don’t have to worry about that, Tristan thought, again looking at Solange. He wished the thought had been as relieved and optimistic as it should have been. Instead, there was still a sea of bitterness rocking his gut. Because what they had done and hadn’t done created the perfect storm of unfulfilled desire.

He’d said he loved her and meant it.

And she’d said it back.

And now, here they were, making tight small talk in front of a coffee machine. And the coffee machine was taking forever and he was standing here, wanting nothing more than to either kiss her or to die, like some melodramatic teenage kid.

But instead of doing either, he got down another cup said, “You still take your coffee the same, right?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange was trying very hard to remain strong. There was so much familiarity in the way he leaned close...all she had to do was close the distance, press her lips to his. It would be so easy. But in the end she pulled away because she knew they would both completely break if they crossed that line back into a relationship. As much as she wanted to be with him again, they couldn't do this while they still had no idea who the blackmailer was. Maybe if she was the only one who'd get hurt, she might have kissed him then, but she wouldn't risk Tristan's business reputation like that.

She tried desperately to cover up the moment by offering to take care of things for an hour or two while he took a nap in his office. He looked almost as worn out as she felt and she knew he could use the extra rest. She told him she'd bring him the coffee in a little while, though she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his gaze right then, still afraid of breaking. Her heart felt sore and sick and kept pounding out a disjointed rhythm...

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou...

“Don’t,” he said in a tired, weary voice. “I’ve gotta learn to take better care of myself. You’ve got plenty to do without me taking a nap during office hours.” Solange wanted to protest but he continued quickly. “Thanks, though,” he said. “That was very… considerate of you to offer.”

She sighed as they both turned to look at the coffee maker, silently pleading with it to hurry. She didn't know how much of this awkward small talk either of them could take. She watched as he got down another cup and set it down.

“You still take your coffee the same, right?” he asked and for the first time that morning, a genuine smile (though very small) crept across her lips.

"You mean milk and sugar with a hint of coffee? Yes, I do." she assured him. "I'm assuming you still like yours black and strong enough to wake the dead?" She paused a moment and groaned. "Did I seriously just make that pun? ...you rubbed off on me..." She gave a tiny smile, gaze coming to meet his.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

He caught it: her smile. It made him feel dopey on the inside – panicky, too. He knew how she took her coffee: overdosed with sweetener and milk so that it was a light caramel color. He’d tried it once or twice and thought that his teeth were going to melt right out of his head. But when he kissed her and that lingering sweetness was in her mouth…

Stop. Don’t.

You’re only gonna make this hurt more than it has to.

"You mean milk and sugar with a hint of coffee? Yes, I do." she assured him. "I'm assuming you still like yours black and strong enough to wake the dead?"

A beat. Two shared grins. A groan.

"Did I seriously just make that pun? ...you rubbed off on me..."

Tristan started to laugh. He covered his mouth with one hand, but knew full well there was no point in pretending it wasn’t funny. What he had to pretend was that he wasn’t flattered that he’d made an impact. What he had to pretend was that he didn’t want to kiss her. What he had to pretend was that he wasn’t turned on by the way she was smiling and rolling her eyes and-

Dammit.

The worst part was that he had to pretend he didn’t love her and was utterly disaffected by everything she said or did and that was impossible. He rubbed his mouth and pulled himself back up straight; he’d started to slouch comfortably for a moment.

“Yeah, well,” he said, tugging at his jacket. “If I had to rub off on you, at least you got my bad puns and not my fashion sense or something.”

He meant the hair, but now he was imagining Solange in one of his button down shirts, standing in his living room and offering a come-hither smile.

Stopstopstop.

He looked back at the coffee machine and wondered, not for the first time, how long it took to brew two cups of coffee anyways.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange felt her smile grow a little more genuine when she heard Tristan laughing. It was such a natural response to that sound for her. She loved his laugh, loved making him laugh. Even if that meant she'd made some terribly cheesy, unintentional pun. She'd groaned but his laugh made it completely worth it. She'd playfully accused him of rubbing off on her but it was the truth. And honestly she didn't mind. He'd gotten her to loosen up and let go which had been hard for her ever since her grandparents had passed away. She missed that...

“Yeah, well,” he said, tugging at his jacket. “If I had to rub off on you, at least you got my bad puns and not my fashion sense or something.” He looked away rather quickly, glancing back at the coffee machine which still had yet to finish. Seriously, they needed a new one if it was taking this long. She was having enough trouble trying to cope with this as it was. She wasn't sure she could get through the whole day like this without caffeine.

Solange however hadn't stopped looking at Tristan. The void between them now just didn't seem right at all and she couldn't take another day of it, caffeine or no. She sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his arm, turning him to look at her. She met his blue eyes with a gentle look, needing his attention.

"Trist, I think it's time we talked about this...like, really talked about it," she said. "I am just so sick of us having to walk around eggshells around each other. I mean, it makes no sense why we can't be friends...right? We could at least try. I want to try..."

She looked up at him hopefully, wondering if after three month they could really begin to repair the damage that had been done.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan looked at Solange. Incredulity crept into his widened eyes and before he could stop himself he said, “You want to be friends?”

It wasn’t a question as though he hadn’t heard her right. It wasn’t a question as though he didn’t know what she meant. It was a question echoed in shock. He knew he’d heard her right; it made it even more a blow to the heart than Tristan ever would have imagined possible. It was enough to set him boiling hotter than the coffee in the machine.

“I don’t want to be friends, Solange,” he told her. “I love you and maybe if I didn’t know that for certain, we could be friends. But I do so we can’t. Or at least I can’t. I’m not – God, I don’t know – I’m not noble enough for that or whatever.”

I love you and it’s selfish.
I want you and it’s painful.
I need you and it kills me that you just want to be friends.

“You want me to stop walking on eggshells?” he continued without pausing for breath. “Fine. I love you and this break up is stupid. We’ve been afraid of some *sshole for months and it's ridiculous. Things have still been going missing and we’re no closer to finding out who is behind it. And to top it off, we’re both miserable because I still love you and I think – I hope – you still love me too. What’s the point in being miserable apart when we can be miserable together? … You know what I mean. I-I mean I love you and if we lose the business, I can’t lose you, too. So please don't tell me you just want to be friends.”

The light on the coffee machine finally glowed orange. 

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange didn't actually want to go back to being just friends with Tristan. But it was better than this nothing they were stuck in now. Surely there had to be some kind of comfortable middle between their love and acting like complete strangers. She was willing to take what she could for the time being. Friends still embraced. Friends still hung out together. Friends still made each other laugh. She just hoped that from there they could begin to work their way back up.

“You want to be friends?” he repeated in shock. “I don’t want to be friends, Solange. I love you and maybe if I didn’t know that for certain, we could be friends. But I do so we can’t. Or at least I can’t. I’m not – God, I don’t know – I’m not noble enough for that or whatever.”

Tears began to form in her eyes. She couldn't believe it. He was standing right in front of her admitting he still loved her. Really, it was everything she could have asked for.

“You want me to stop walking on eggshells?” he continued without pausing for breath. “Fine. I love you and this break up is stupid. We’ve been afraid of some *sshole for months and it's ridiculous. Things have still been going missing and we’re no closer to finding out who is behind it. And to top it off, we’re both miserable because I still love you and I think – I hope – you still love me too. What’s the point in being miserable apart when we can be miserable together? … You know what I mean. I-I mean I love you and if we lose the business, I can’t lose you, too. So please don't tell me you just want to be friends.”

Her heart skipped in her chest. She couldn't bear to hold back for another moment. It would be at least another hour before the interns showed up. The blackmailer never had to know.

She reached out and placed a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips with his. She kissed him deeply, sighing softly against his lips with something akin to relief. It had been three months since they'd kissed and she had missed him terribly. She kissed him until finally they had to part for air.

She let her hand rest against his chest and left her other hand there against the back of his neck, needing that closeness. "I don't want to just be friends. I love you too..." she told him. "I want to be with you! I miss you so much. I'm tired of being miserable by myself." Her hand slid to his cheek. "But what are we going to do about the thief? They'll tell the board everything and we will definitely lose the business."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

For a moment, everything was right with the world. Solange kissed him and her breath filled his lungs. Tristan wrapped his arms around her, closed his eyes, and got lost in the moment – trying to feel every little shockwave, every heartbeat, just in case another moment like this never came. He wasn’t given to calling things perfect, but Solange’s lips against his, holding her in his arms, that was his idea of perfection.

It ended all too soon in that breathless way kisses end. Until they broke apart, Tristan hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing. Now, chest heaving, he looked at her and thought: We’re us again.

And then Solange opened her mouth and started worrying.

Tristan listened and when she was done, pinched the bridge of his nose. Pulling away, he walked over to the table with the coffee machine on it. With his free hand, he shut off the coffee maker.

“Y’know,” he said, pouring coffee into the cups. “I never thought I’d ever meet – let alone fall in love with – someone who worries more than I do.”

He grinned at her over his shoulder and added creamer to her drink, then sugar. He sighed and tossed a stirring stick in it. He handed it to her and picked up his own coffee cup. Taking a scalding sip, he leaned against the table, crossing his long legs at the ankles.

“What we shoulda done, is get in touch with a lawyer,” he said. “I’ll call around this afternoon, after the Cohen funeral. That’s one good thing about the industry. Puts us in touch with all sorts of people.”

His mind flitted to the collection of business cards sitting in his desk. Everyone always insisted he throw them out, but Tristan never quite could. Maybe that was a good thing.

“And maybe you can do a Google search or something about what the law actually says,” he said. She was much better with computers than he was. By far. “There’s bound to be some sorta - I don't know - precedent. We can’t be the first people to ever meet and fall in love at work, right? Maybe in a funeral home, but…”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Her worries just came pouring out before she could even think about how they would just ruin the moment. She wished they could just go back to kissing, bodies pressed against each other as they held each other tightly. She especially wished that when Tristan simply pinched his nose like a headache was coming on and pulled away from the embrace. Her eyes followed him as he moved to go to the coffee maker which had finished making their coffee finally. She wished that he would just forget about the coffee and kiss her again, but obviously that moment had passed. She just hoped that it wasn't the last of moments like that.

“Y’know,” he began, smiling back at her as he poured the coffee for them. “I never thought I’d ever meet – let alone fall in love with – someone who worries more than I do.”

She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him without any real venom behind it. "I'm not worrying, I'm trying to be logical," she insisted. She couldn't bring herself to be properly angry though when he kept saying he was in love with her like that. Hearing him say that made her stomach feel all fluttery and an irrepressible smile to start to pull at her lips as it was now.

He handed her the cup of caramel colored liquid. He really did know exactly how she liked her coffee. She took a sip, savoring the warm sweetness with her favorite hazelnut creamer. Blue eyes flickered to him as he leaned casually against the counter.

“What we shoulda done, is get in touch with a lawyer,” he said. “I’ll call around this afternoon, after the Cohen funeral. That’s one good thing about the industry. Puts us in touch with all sorts of people.” She thought this over for a moment and nodded in agreement. “And maybe you can do a Google search or something about what the law actually says. There’s bound to be some sorta - I don't know - precedent. We can’t be the first people to ever meet and fall in love at work, right? Maybe in a funeral home, but…” he suggested.

A smile spread across her ruby red lips. She was glad that they were finally making a plan to deal with this. She supposed they'd just been too miserable to even think about how to take care of things.

"I can do that. No problem. I think we have some time between the two morning services and the afternoon ones," she said. Another thought occurred to her though. They'd kissed but that didn't actually mean they were back together, necessarily. "But in the meantime, what should we do? Do we keep acting like we aren't together or do we go back to...how things use to be?"

She absently stirred her coffee, looking down at the cup in her hand.