Lulu floundered for half a moment, wringing her hands. "But that doesn't make any sense," she lamented. "You can't walk to the ends of the earth and stay in one place at the same time."
It was true. Physically, anyway, for at least as far as she was prepared to consider things. Another true thing was Lulu's tendency to think along a fixed line, allowing herself to stop before things grew too dark, too uncomfortable. Jon assured her of his love with words -- and he'd given her a ring, too, something to look at and touch with her fingers. It should have been enough.
"How nice," she murmured at last, reaching for Jon's glass of moscato. I love you, too.
On some level, Lulu was aware of behavior in a way that would make all of this horrible to remember later. She could already feel the tears stirring behind her eyes, in the back of her throat. Ridiculous. Jon's eyes met hers -- so much lighter than Lulu's, so much easier to read -- and she made a little choking sound, halfway between a laugh and a kind of exasperated snort.
A future to look forward to. What was the point, if she couldn't imagine it? A year... And afterward? They'd have a talk like this again, trying to decide what Jon could and couldn't stomach. Lulu would want what she had now. She knew that. She'd want the MOMA, and the city, and everything she'd won for herself.
She'd want him, too. That went without saying.
Still, Lulu struggled with saying anything at all. A thin hand lifted to cover her mouth, whatever was about to slip out of it -- definitely not anything reasonable, patient, well-considered. There was another brusque, uncomfortable little giggle. Then Lulu dropped the glass of wine, half-deliberately, off the side of the table. It shattered noisily, breaking the bubble that had begun to grow around them; then a waiter came rushing in to clean everything up, and it was easier and harder at the same time.
But it was inevitable: the moment they were alone again, something gave way. Lulu's hand came down to rest on the table again, revealing a strained smile. Her dark eyes swam angrily with tears. Now I'm going to go all red. I hate crying.