Against the far wall, a suitcase and a small clothes rail are the only other items.
“It’s so temporary,” I whisper.
Months, he said. But his apartment looks as if he’s already left.
“Emmy.” Ben says my name haltingly, and I force myself to look at him. “I don’t spend a lot of time here.”
Slowly, I nod, turning back to stare out of the window.
I suck in a breath when I feel him approach. Ben’s chin fits perfectly on top of my head as he encloses me in his arms, and it empties out the tightness in my lungs.
“I’m not going yet,” he whispers. “Not yet.”
For the first time, I give voice to the thoughts inside my head. “I could go with you. When you leave.”
He stiffens, and I twist in his arms, staring up at him.
He looks so tired again. The circles beneath his eyes are almost black today. He tossed and turned for most of the night.
I’ve never slept better than I have with him wrapped around me.
“Emmy,” he says heavily. He’s not looking at me, so I grab his face, pulling it down.
“I would go with you,” I say hoarsely. “I don’t have anything here worth staying for, Ben.”
But maybe I have something worth leaving for.
Ben closes his eyes. And he looks…agonized.
That fear wraps around my ribcage again, constricting it. “You’re not telling me everything.”
His eyes open, endless brown fixing on me. He doesn’t say anything.
“Ben,” I breathe desperately. “Talk to me.”
Tell me why you have an empty apartment.
Tell me why you never go to work.
Tell me why you always look so tired.
The pleas all pile up on my tongue, and I’m too scared to voice any of them.
He doesn’t say anything. But his arms are tight around me, and I press my ear against his chest. I need to hear it.
“You know,” he says hoarsely. “This place could do with some color. Maybe some furniture.”
My grip tightens. “It could?”
Not yet, he said.Not yet.
He nods against me. “Are you tired?”
I should be. I’ve been awake since yesterday morning. But I shake my head.
When he pulls away, I feel the loss of him like a cold wave of air over my body. Ben pushes my hair back, smiling at me.
But it’s a sad smile. “Decorating it is.”
