even louis vuitton makes mistakes.

                             —— hey sugar? you got a storm comin’.

luca  points  towards  the  suv  parked  in  the  lot  ,  one  of  a  few  options  of  cars  he  has  though  his  preferred  to  take  out  on  a  casual  evening  .  he  takes  the  keys  from  his  pockets  and  unlocks  it  before  they  reach  the  side  ,  taking  it  upon  himself  to  open  the  passenger  door  for  len  before  rounding  the  front  to  the  driver’s  side  .  “  she  prefers  watching  on  the  security  cameras  ,  more  convenient  since  she  doesn’t  have  to  get  out  of  bed  —–  i  wouldn’t  worry  though  ,  if  anything  she  will  be  said  she  missed  the  opportunity  to  get  to  know  you  better  .  ”  the  engine  comes  to  life  with  a  push  of  the  ignition  button  ,  both  buckled  in  before  he  eases  out  of  the  parking  space  and  onto  the  downtown  streets  .  “  she  is  uh  ,  a  special  cat  that’s  for  sure  .  kind  of  grateful  the  other  vet  made  it  her  personal  mission  to  befriend  her  .  not  that  i  mind  a  few  scratches  but  generally  from  other  people  and  not  felines  ,  ”  he  says  with  a  light  laugh  .

.

Tucking into the quiet cab of the car, Len felt small, watching the streetlights pass like wide-mouthed road markers, with bright laughter spilling from them into a coin-shaped pool that bathed them in white light as they passed. “As long as she isn’t threatening to gut me like a fucking fish, she can watch all she wants,” she replied, casting him a long, wary glance. “No one wants to believe that their wife can be cruel.” She could take any name, any shouted insult or any horrible, ill wish. She’d heard most of them, and she was still here, heart still beating, her skin un-scarred. A lot of significant others had been much less understanding when their partner had forgotten to be careful. “Sardine practically refuses domestication. I love that about it. I’d offer it up to science to be tested, to see how close a cat that size can be related to lions or raccoons.”

There’s a click against the wood of the table as Marcus turns his wrist and flips through the packet. He signs his name in the permanence of ink right on the dotted line. With the drop of the pen, it was official: he was an unmarried man, as if it never happened in the first place, memories erased with the spill of ink. He slides the document across the table and stares at her expectantly. “I can’t this Sunday,” he says. “I have a date.” A date with a girl he actually likes, one he was sure his mother would have approved of too, had it not been for the camera roll filled with photos of the pair that sat at the round wooden table.

More at ease now with the signing of the paper over, Marcus lifts the drink up to his lips. He had ordered his coffee black mostly to avoid more questions from the waitress, and the bitter taste feels appropriate now. “Let’s do it Saturday,” he suggests. “Or tell her I have to work a double. She’ll understand,” he says. Despite how he felt about Len, he harbored no animosity towards her family. They were good people, kind people, and while they had forced the wrong two people together, their hearts were in the right place. He reminds himself of that when he looks at Len. “Is that a problem?” 

.

Len bristles at the thought of it. Him, on a date, with some beautiful, long necked stranger. He’d never been hers but she was possessive over everything that she’d once held— and it was different when it wasn't her that was leaving, when the parting wasn't the uncomplicated split after a night’s rendezvous. Besides the grit of her teeth she doesn’t show it, she has no right to it, and the flare up of jealousy fades like any other bitter emotion she holds onto. Let him be happy, not everyone had to succumb to halting misery like she had. She hoped the girl was pretty but stupid, some vapid thing that she couldn’t bring herself to hate but laugh at when their paths crossed.

“Saturday then,” she agreed, pleasantly enough as she began the business of tucking away papers into folders and nestling them back into her bag. “I’ll tell her you’re too busy cheating on me with some slut who washes the dishes at your restaurant. Or maybe the pool boy? I’ll decide on my way home.” She said it cheerily as she stood, leaning in to peck a kiss on the high points of his cheek bones, one on each side. “Let me know when your mother expects us to visit. I have to find time to get myself pregnant so I can happily claim it’s yours over brunch.” Len shoved her bag higher up the thin shoulder it slipped down, her smile revealing too many teeth, and her eyes mirroring something dangerous, like the shine on the edge of a knife. “I’ve gotta get ready for work, but we should do this again. Fresh photos to feed the wolves, and all that.”