"That's not..." She sounded breathless, her voice barely there. "Not what I wanted to talk about."
She didn't say anything, and he amused himself by imagining her gaping at him like a fish, struggling for words.
"What about you? Am I in your top ten?" he asked.
She spluttered.
And he couldn't resist. "If you need a refresher, maybe we should do it again."
It was a dare, and they both knew it. Maybe it was stupid, considering he’d been planning to hire a painter rather than see her again.
But it stuck in his craw that she was the one who'd come over here to give him a let's-be-friends speech.
"Noah, it's not..."
"Me?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"I haven't dated anyone since my boyfriend broke up with me a few weeks after my diagnosis."
Ouch. That sucked. Her ex was an idiot.
"I haven't wanted to date. It's not... I'm not..."
He waited for her to continue. He couldn't tell where her trailing sentences were going. Was she making some kind of hand gesture? Trying to figure out how to let him down easy?
Because he'd mostly been arguing with her for the fun of it. He wasn't going to protest when she walked out of there.
"I'm not... shaped like a woman anymore. I had surgery and..."
She took a breath, and he realized by how shaky it was that she was right on the edge of tears. She was making herself vulnerable to him.
I'm not shaped like a woman anymore.
Was she saying what he thought she was saying? Of course she was.
His feet took him toward her. He reached out before he even knew he was close enough to touch her.
His hand connected with her upper arm, but she immediately shifted and pulled away.
"Noah, I can't do this."
He stopped moving, let his hands fall to his sides.
"I can't do this," she repeated. Her voice was soft and broken.
All he could say was, "Okay."
