Eli's flat had a crooked picture in the hall and a book resting under one end of the sofa to stop it rocking.
“Don't judge the book,” he said when he saw her notice. “It wasn't what I wanted for it either.”
June laughed. He took her coat, then stood with it over his arm while she looked round the room.
“You can sit,” he said.
“I know.”
“So can I. I'm remembering how.”
He put the coat away and came back. June sat on the sofa. He sat beside her. There was a quietness after an afternoon of talking which felt full of something neither of them had said.
She touched the back of his hand. He turned it over to hold hers.
“I need to ask something first,” she said.
“Okay.”
“About the video.”
His hand stayed still.
“You said you didn't help write it,” June said.
“I didn't.”
“But you're a writer. And you were working with Ruby. I want to understand what you knew.”
He sat back enough to look at her properly.
“I read what she gave me. The adapted piece. I told her where a pause might work, where something sounded awkward aloud. Performance feedback.”
“And my phrases?”
“She said she'd quoted a few things you'd said. I knew that.”
June let go of his hand.
“You didn't tell me that in the café.”
“No. I should have. I was trying to explain the part I played, and I left it out.”
“Did you have what I sent her? The whole original thing?”
“No. I never received your complete pages.”
“Before we met, did you know the breakup story was mine?”
“No. I knew some phrases came from you. Not that it was your breakup.”
“And you didn't write any of the script?”
“No, June. I gave feedback on performing it. I didn't write it.”
She looked at the crooked picture through the open door. From the sofa she could see that it wasn't the frame that was crooked. The image inside it had slipped.
“When I told you the words were mine, you could have said you'd known there were some,” she said.
“Yes.”
He wasn't asking her to stop talking. He wasn't taking her hand back. June turned toward him again.
“I don't like finding out things in pieces.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I like being with you. I don't want you sitting beside me wondering whether I'm telling you something true.”
She wanted the simplicity of that. She also wanted to kiss him. Both things made it harder to sit still and decide.
Sam had confirmed the kiss. Eli was trying to put right the foolish part he'd agreed to. June wanted to believe there wasn't more behind it.
“If there's anything else,” she said, “tell me now.”
He looked at her. “I've told you my part.”
June waited a moment longer. Then she took his hand again.
He leaned toward her slowly. She met him before he finished the movement. The kiss wasn't like the one outside the florist, with the street open around them. It had room to last.
She moved nearer, one knee on the sofa. He held her at the waist, and she touched his face as she had wanted to in the small screen. He closed his eyes beneath her fingers.
When he asked whether she wanted to stay, she said yes. She said it without pretending it was merely an arrangement for the evening. He kissed her once, smiling, and led her down the little hall.
They were awkward over a sleeve, and laughed. He asked what she wanted. She answered, and asked him. Outside, traffic passed in uneven rushes, then faded. June felt wanted in a way that didn't require her to become more entertaining first.
Later, she lay with her head on his shoulder and watched the light move along the wall. He brushed her hair away from his mouth. She caught his hand and kissed the base of his thumb.
“You'll be late for your own work,” she said.
“I still have time.”
“Then stop checking.”
He put the phone face down out of reach. She liked that he listened. She liked being the person beside him when he did.
At seven he made them something simple to eat, then sat at his laptop. June stayed on the sofa, reading a book he had recommended because she had said she didn't trust the ending. Every now and then he looked over, and she felt the glance before she looked up.
For almost an hour, neither had to fill the room with speech.
When the work was sent, he came over and sat on the floor beside her. She rested a hand in his hair. He put his head back against her knee.
“Have you reached it?”
“No.”
“You will hate it.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It's an invitation to tell me at length.”
She closed the book and leaned down to kiss him. She would read the ending later. Tonight she wanted to remain in the room where he was.