“Tell me how you’re doing,” Felix says. I peer at him. “I’m fine.” “Lucy.” His gaze travels my face, and I feel like he’s drinking me up. “Really tell me. Tell me what’s happening at the store. Tell me about Farah and what poetry she’s working on. Tell me about flowers.” He sounds a little desperate, and his words run together. “Felix Clark, are you drunk?” I don’t even think I’ve seen him tipsy before—he holds his liquor well. “Maybe a little,” he says with a half smile that’s definitely intoxicated. “But I also want to know, Lucy. Talk to me.”
