Page 47 of Gates of Tartarus

“You were watching for me to come home, right?”

“Oh,” he replies. “Some guy named Jonah called me.”

I struggle upright but am locked in place in his arms.

“What?”

He pauses and smiles down at me. “Yeah. I was working away in the shed when my phone rang. It was your tone so of course I answered it. Jonah was on the other end, introduced himself, said he knew you and I are ‘tight’, and that you’d been injured at work, and to check on you. And then said to apologize to you for using your phone without your permission. Andthengot into an argument with someone in the background over sending you home in a cab, and it being invasive if they come out to the island uninvited. Andthen, got back on with me, said he had to go and ‘Thanks, man! Hope to meet you soon! Guess we’re rescheduling movie night. Don’t panic. She’s okay.’ and hung up. Seems like a nice enough guy, but Lord, Kai, he can talk. I didn’t get a question or word in edgewise.”

Grinning affectionately, I shake my head slightly. “That’s Jonah.”

Lachy makes a non-committal sound before opening the door to the guest room and putting me gently on the bed. “I’ll be back in fifteen. Your robe’s in your bathroom. I’ll just grab a bunch of stuff from your place... unless you want anything specific?”

“Just my charger and headphones. Some pjs.”

He nods and leaves. I move to open the curtains from the windows. This is my favorite room in Lachy’s home. I have no idea why it’s one of the guest rooms and not the master suite – it’s so beautiful. I’m sure it was meant to be the master when Lachy fixed up the home. The room is enormous. It has huge, arching windows overlooking the Sound, large, curved panes of glass that take up almost the entire wall. The room is the same pale grey, slate, and white as Lachy’s library downstairs, with a raw-wood, king-sized bed coming out from the wall, with built-in shelves around it and two matching tables coming out next to it. There’s an oversized, white chair by the windows, a twin to the one in the downstairs library, with a small reading table next to it, and a large, very fluffy rug on the floor in front of it. To the right, on the wall of windows, is a small, inconspicuous door that blends into the larger, glass background. It leads to a small deck, the line of the railing blending perfectly with the horizon so it doesn’t take away from the view.

It even has an en-suite – a huge, pale grey, white, and slate bathroom with a truly massive soaking tub raised next to the giant window looking down over the Sound. There’s a towel-warming rack, a rain shower behind beautiful, swirled-glass blocks – the entire thing is like it’s from a magazine. It’s funny – maybe a year after Gemms and I had moved in down the hill, Lach had asked us for help redesigning the inside of his home. Itwasvery utilitarian at the time. He’d commissioned Gemms to do some gorgeous oil paintings for him of the Sound – knocked quite a lot of rent off our monthly bill, which had really helped at the time. We’d been in some dire straits a couple of times, and it gave us some breathing room. While she was painting, I’d go up and walk through rooms with him. Mostly, I think, he just didn’t want to do it alone, wanted someone with him to get excited about things with. But the guest rooms, those were all me. Lach’s house is maybe 4,000 square feet – it’s pretty massive, though from the outside is deceptively cozy. It has five bedrooms and five bathrooms, which is insane to me, and then an enormous downstairs that has a half bath.

When I started helping Lachy, he’d asked me to go room to room and just suggest some color choices. Most of the rooms were going to be pretty basic because it was just him, but he’d wanted help making them look nice for when his large family would come visit. I’d assumed the master would be Lachy’s – but when I’d commented on how stunning it was and asked how he’d wanted it decorated, he’d shrugged with a small smile and said he preferred the room down the hall and I could do with it what I wanted. Every time I’d hesitated to make a decision he’d plead for my input, saying he just didn’t enjoy doing it, and eventually I’d run with it. He’d filled in the blanks I’d left – put in the overstuffed chair, the bookshelves, made the bed. The room ended up being my dream room, and I loved the few times I’d stayed in it, when things had been being repaired in our cabin or when we’d had late movie nights.

The bathroom had been all him, though. We were in a store picking up paint samples, and I’d seen a magazine which had made me catch my breath in pain for a moment. He’d noticed, of course he’d noticed, and he asked me about it.

Pointing to the front cover, I showed him a photo of a bathroom. “Sostupid,” I told him. “It just reminded me of... just, when I was a kid, there was this one year I was insanely happy. For a time anyways. I’d been adopted by this couple... I’d loved them. Really loved them. And they had done up a room for me with all these amazing things, but my favorite part was the bathroom. It looked like this, kind of –” I pointed to the photo “– nothing fancy, just a tub, shower… but it just felt like I’d be okay, since they took the time to fix up even thebathroomfor me. It’s so, so stupid, but I loved that fucking bathroom. It was made for a kid. Had this fish shower curtain, and a fish floor mat. They’d even bought this little garbage can that looked like an octopus… I named him Legs. Who names a fuckinggarbagecan?” I choked a little, clearing my throat. “I just loved that room. Like, it meant so much that someone thought enough about what I’d like that they made an effort to make thebathroomwelcoming. Whodoesthat?”

Lachy’s smile sagged, the corners folding in under the weight of anticipated sadness. “What happened?” he asked softly, and I shrugged.

“What always happens.” Smiling a little, I ran my fingers over the photo on the magazine again. “I loved that stupid bathroom though. Anyways…”

I hadn’t seen Lachy for a couple weeks after that – work had picked up – but when I finally got back to his house and went upstairs, I saw the redone bathroom. It was… it was like something from a movie. He’d gutted the entire thing, had built a platform by the window surrounded by shelving for candles, books, glasses – and had put in the enormous soaking tub. Honestly, it probably could have fit both of us with plenty of room to spare. And every detail in the room was perfect. The double sinks, the floors, the walls – just every. Single. Thing. He’d watched me look around and had puffed with pride and happiness at my expression.

“Holy shit, Lach!” I said. “This is freaking amazing!”

“Do you like it?” he asked seriously, like he was waiting for something.

“I mean… Lach. This is gorgeous. It’s fucking gorgeous. But this issomuch more than you were planning! This must have eaten into your budget like… Christ! Lach! What made you change the plans?”

A warm, happy smile lit up his face. “I just wanted to make it welcoming. Wanted it to feel like home. For whoever stays here.”

I didn’t even hear his answer, cooing over the tub, the towel warmer, the handmade cabinets. And he watched me the entire time through careful, satisfied eyes, but his energy was still slightly edgy, still worried anticipation. I could tell he knew the moment I saw it. He was unsure he’d done the right thing, was really, really nervous, but hopeful.

My throat hurt, my lungs tight, and a sharp pain shot across the bridge of my nose as I moved forward slowly. In the corner, tucked behind a shelf area that held towels with different slotted bins underneath for laundry, was a small, exquisite, clear-glass octopus trash can. It fit the room perfectly, not standing out, had a sweet little face with beautiful curling tentacles, a grown-up version of the one I’d had as a child.

“Lach…” I said, voice shaking, and I cleared my throat.

He frowned a little and said, almost wryly, “Too much? I didn’t want it to be a bad memory. I wasn’t sure... wrong choice I guess.”

But his voice trailed off as I turned to him, wiping away the tears that would justnotstop flowing, despite my best efforts, and I smiled at him, tremulous and wide. “It’s beautiful. And thoughtful. And I love it. But this isn’t my room…”

He shrugged. “I want you to know you’re welcome here. Always. So I thought I’d try to put a piece of home here for you. Just a secret between you and me.” Tilting his head, he nodded as though a question had been asked and answered and said, “Come on. My room still is a work in progress. Take a look for me.”

Lachy’s room still hasn’t had much done to it, to be honest, in the years he’s been here. It’s a smaller, more compact room down the hall from the guest room where I’m staying. It’s very minimalist – it doesn’t actually look like he lives there. Not really. But that’s probably because he spends most of his time in the shed when I’m not around, carving and creating to his heart's content. Lost in my thoughts, I jump slightly when Lachy pokes his head through the door, surprising me.

“Kai!” he says, concerned. “Do you need help? You haven’t moved – I’m about to head down to your place but wanted to check in on you before I leave.”

“I’m okay!” I rush to reassure him. “I was just thinking about how much I love it here.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. Do you need help before I go?”

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