It's around 11 when I wake up again. I'm hardly leaping out of the bed with a skip and a song, but I feel better. Calmer.

Eric's back from wherever he went, sound asleep with both arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. The late morning light paints a streak of sunshine across the half of his stubbled face that isn't buried in his pillow, and with his eyelids fluttering, he looks like an angel. He's frowning slightly though; clenching his jaw. My first instinct is to reach out and touch him – trace the light on his cheekbone, as I watch his features soften under my hand.

But I won't. Eric's a light sleeper. At least, that's the justification I'm sticking with.

The gnawing paranoia in my stomach looks at his tight-knitted brows and doesn't know who I'll awaken – my Eric or the man from last night who resented Thursdays and treated me like a kid.

"It's too early for all that," I mutter, stopping myself before my thoughts begin to spiral. My stomach grumbles when I toss the duvet aside, and I sigh in relief, grateful for something else to focus on: breakfast.

───

Pip's perched on the island when I walk into the kitchen, digging his hand into a family-sized box of breadsticks.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he grins when I enter, and his cheeriness is just the breath of fresh air I need.

"Morning – quite the balanced breakfast you've got there," I tease, nodding at the large packet.

Pip wiggles his blonde brows,

"Say what you like – it's a lazy man's hangover breakfast, and it works like a charm." He tilts the packet down so I can look inside.

"What's that all over them?" I ask, squinting at the golden sticky liquid the breadsticks are doused in. "Honey?"

"Indeed," he mumbles through a mouthful, "try one."

I slide a stick out of the pack, catching the fallout with my hand as I crunch.

"Not bad..."

It's got a certain 'comfort food charm', but I didn't drink nearly enough last night to stomach so much salt and sugar and carbs in one meal. The metabolism of teenage boys never fails to astound me. Pip puts three in his mouth at once before extending the packet to me again,

"I'm serious, you know – this shit works."

"Yeah, I think I'll stick to the more natural remedies, Pip," I laugh, shouldering the fridge with a raspberries and a pot of Greek yogurt in hand, "thank you, though. Where'd you even get those? I asked Ana where you guys keep the junk food, and the best we could find was some bloody kale chips."

"Personal stash," Pip says with a wink, "Mum swipes carbs like contraband. I'll hook you up, though."

"Ah, cheers," I snort distractedly. My attention is grabbed by a new text message notification.

Scott 😁: Hey, good news - I wasn't murdered by my sister! Thought it was only polite to let you know :)

I don't reply straight away – I put the phone down on the counter first and scoop out my breakfast – but my smile can't help itself.

With everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, it feels like ages ago that I was contemplating the whole 'reconciling with Scott' thing. Looking at the date on my phone now though, February 21st, it's only been a few days since we saw each other at the races.

Evangeline 😊: I'd say congratulations but with exams coming up I don't know if that's such good news after all...

Despite my best efforts to ignore them, the notifications I've left unread glare at me.

*2 NEW MESSAGES*

Babe🐽: Just to be clear, I DON'T WANT DETAILS. But I hope yesterday went well x

Mummy💖: Missing you darling!! Hope they're not working you girls too hard 😠 😠 Stay wrapped up warm ok? Talk soon sweetie xxx

I don't know what to say to either of them just yet. But this text to Scott doesn't require a lie or a coverup. It's trivial and fun and sending it makes me feel as though things are... normal again. I'm not even sure exactly what that means, but it puts me at a gentle ease as I go back to chopping up my breakfast with a chuckle.

"Is that your boooyfriend?"

Pip's teasing comes from just behind me, making me jump. When I turn to face him, he's bearing his ever-present grin, and, of course, he's kidding.

"Piss off," I laugh, although the accusation makes me a little nervous, "he's just a mate."

Pip waves a dismissive hand as he hoists himself back onto the island,

"I'm only teasing. From what I've seen, you couldn't be any more in love with Auby if you tried."

"Oh? And what exactly have you seen?"

His limp gold curls fall to one side when he tilts his head for a moment, his face the picture of serious consideration.

"Well it's not like it's hard to spot," he begins, "you hardly leave his side whenever he's around; and when he's not, you look sort of like of a confused puppy, or like..."

"What?" I exhale. "Like a kid lost in a supermarket?"

"No, no, more like... more like you're missing half of yourself," Pip says, sounding rather philosophical as he points an insistent finger at me as though he's given a perfect depiction.

I laugh because he laughs first, shrugging off the comment and returning to his sticky breadsticks, but mine must have betrayed my nervousness, because he looks up with teasing concern.

"Aw, not to worry, Evangeline," he says, reaching out and pinching my cheek, "he looks just as lost without you."

I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out playfully, before turning away. I don't want him to see me shaken, but something about his comment bugs me.

Do I really look so helpless without Eric?

When he's off with his uni mates or his old colleagues, he seems perfectly fine – more than fine; lively, aglow with charm, the life and soul of the party. There's something naively romantic about how much I seem to need him... but surely, Eric isn't what completes me? Surely, I'm something, someone, on my own too?

"I am not a puppy," I say adamantly, wiping the honey residue from Pip's fingers off of my face.

The answer comes from a husky voice I wasn't expecting,

"No, I'd say you're more of a kitten."

"Eric!" I squeak as I spin around to hug him.

His arms are wrapped around my waist as he chuckles warmly in my ear,

"Morning, kitten."

With my chin nestled on his shoulder, I've got a clear view of Pip as he smirks and raises his hands like paws, miming a silent woof. I give him the finger, but my hands drop to my sides – not just because I do indeed feel like a 'puppy', but because my memories of last night begin to flood back at Eric's scent. My head stings with a fleeting, phantom pain of last night's migraine and all the tears that came after it.

When my hug falls limp, Eric stands back questioningly.

"Morning," I say quietly, before turning my back to him and mixing my yogurt.

He stays close behind me, close enough that I feel his exhale on the back of my neck. Then, I feel his kiss on my shoulder as he takes hold of me again.

"Evie..." he says, resting his chin on my shoulder as he speaks, "my love, I can't tell you how sorry I am for last night. I was an utter drunken dick."

I gnaw at my lip. I want nothing more than to accept his words; melt into him and move on. But...

"Just 'cause you were drunk doesn't mean you didn't mean the things you said..." I say quietly, hoping that he'll know just the right thing to say. And, of course, he does.

"But I didn't, Evie. Look," he places his hands over mine, stilling their stirring, "I know things are complicated, but I wouldn't trade you for anything. I wouldn't trade our Thursdays for the world."

I should be hesitant...right? I know the words he's whispering are the polar opposite of the ones he slurred last night, but I can't help but believe every syllable. 

"You mean it?" I whisper.

"With all my heart," he says, matching my breathy tone.

I drop my head to hide my blush and dumb grin, but Eric raises it again with a finger under my chin. As he holds my gaze with tender promise, everything feels perfect again. But as he leans in to kiss me, I jerk away slightly.

When he raises a questioning brow, I feel my face flush an even deeper red, and my eyes dart behind him to Pip, who's scoffing his breadsticks and watching us intently as though he's sat front row at a new movie.

"Pip."

"Yeah, Aubs?"

"Get lost, would you?"

"Aw, but it's just getting to the good bit!"

I laugh aloud as Eric lunges at Pip, who shrieks at a pitch higher than I thought he was capable of and begins chucking the sticky snack at his brother. Eric's highly amused by Pip's spectacle as he launches the food back at him with military-level prowess. Watching him, bare-chested and grinning in his pyjama trousers as he wrestles his little brother, I decide that this is all that matters. He's not Mr. Macklin, or Auby, or anything else. This is the real Eric: the man I'm utterly and entirely in love with – even if he is losing woefully.

"Ahem." A clearing of the throat, both dainty and firm, snatches the boys' attention, and the sight of Louisa smirking in the doorway is enough to make both Pip and Eric regain all macho composure.

"Cute," she simpers, and she seems her suave, snarky self, until something in her demeanour shifts. The hand on her hip falls; her shoulders drop slightly. Then, her eyes flit to meet mine.

"Aunty Kitty wants to see you. Talk to you."

"Me?" I gape with wide eyes. It's a stupid question, and from her I expect some mean or mocking answer, but Louisa only nods in response.

"In her room."

"Alright..." I say, brushing the breadstick dust off of my pyjamas. I look up just in time to catch a look between Pip and Louisa before she leaves, and his nod and her look of sincere apology tells me that her shift in attitude towards me might be his doing.

"Should I be afraid?" I ask Eric. His smile tells me I shouldn't, but it's Pip who answers as he hoists himself off of the island,

"Don't look so scared, Pup. Mumsie and I talked - you've got nothing to worry about."