“Exceptionally,” I confirmed, looking toward Abe who was wiping the bar top with a rag. He gave me a nod, one validating Cal’s years of reassurance that Abraham never pined for his Peach as much as I had. Cal had been mine before I knew he could be, no resistance, only coexistence. Constantly surrounded by immense beauty, Abe grew tired of even the most gorgeous. So gorgeous. I could not think of a better way to describe him as the imperative portions of my brain went numb, inundated with endorphins and chemically altered by the alcohol I had drowned it in.

I was dancing, overtaken by Cal, flanked by queens and bitches swaying to the music, not giving a shit I was doing the same. Pictures of his face. I’d close my eyes expecting when I opened them he’d be gone but he wasn’t, freckles smattered over his nose and an angular jaw, smiling at me.

“My man,” Cal crooned, nuzzling his face into my neck. What did he see in me? I pissed on his positivity and challenged his cheer, yet his fingers were interlaced with mine. We were having a good time. Dancing.

“You’re crazy,” I admonished, shaking my dizzy head.

“About you,” he assured. I saw it in his eyes. He was in love with me. He looked at me like I was something, and I knew he was everything.

While whiskey should have hit my lips, making them loose with affection, instead it moved my hips, into him, our private dance in public, but I didn’t care because he was there holding me, and I’d washed all other thoughts away.

“Did Abe talk to you?” Cal asked, and I bristled at the mention of his name. “About the new plan?”

“The New Deal.” I laughed until my sides split. “The New Deal.” Cal was Congress petitioning the President to give me something to work with. Abe loved Cal. He loved him so much he saw past the fact that his Peach was a gorgeous thing. He loved Cal enough to help me. It would have been too much to ingest if I wasn’t starving from my anemic dinner.

“Shhh,” he hushed, resting his lips against the shoulder of my shirt.

“Tell me why,” I whispered, falling into the routine we had in our life so far removed from the rest of the world. Tell me why you want me. Tell my why I’m worth it. Tell me what you see in me, why you see me at all. I don’t deserve to be seen by you.

“You’re smart as a whip and clever as shit.”

Cal liked to rhyme.

“You’re so handsome it hurts to look at you, but heals to touch you,” he continued, pecking my lips as I chuckled.