“So there’s no reason to…worry. I think there’s no reason for us to worry. About us. What we are to each other. What we mean to each other.”
“Good,” I said. “I can get behind that.”
He was nodding now, like this was a script he’d run through his head over and over, and I’d answered appropriately.
I was on board. We were bailing water.
“So that means right now, for a little while, we don’t need to worry about the choices we’re making. We trust each other.” He must have seen the shift in my expression, though I wasn’t sure what was coming through. Confusion? Fear?
“Because we’re good,” he added hastily. “As a…together. We might want something…different…more…promises later. But that would just be icing on icing, because we’re already cake. And icing. But good, right? We’re already good.”
He stopped and swallowed. He was sweating now, his color up. If I didn’t know him better I’d say he was just one more “good” away from a panic attack.
It felt like my heart was being squeezed between two bricks. We weren’t talking about a sinking ship or cakes and icing. I was pretty sure we were talking about marriage. And he was telling me, without telling me, that he did not want the same thing I wanted. Not now.
Was that why he was avoiding me?
I took a breath and remembered the pot on the window sill. Remembered a little plant that hadn’t bloomed yet.
Patience.
“I think you’re talking about more than cake,” I said calmly.
He nodded.
Sunlight.
“I heard you. So what I’m going to do is step back. Give us time to think. We can talk about it more. Later. Are you okay with that?”
The nod again. His hand squeezing mine was hot, tight, sweaty. This was tearing him up inside, a conflict I could not understand. I hated that the simple idea of us exchanging vows, of us promising to be together forever, was kicking his needle into the red.
Water.
“I love you, Ryder Bailey.”
His breath came out hard, caught on a hiccup as if he’d held it too long. “Yeah,” he said, wobbly with unshed tears. “I love you too. I’ll be home more. The job…it’s almost done. I promise. It’s almost done. Just, please, wait for me. Don’t give up.”
“I am not giving up.” I inhaled, exhaled, settling the emotions crashing around inside of me. It had been a long damn day. “How about dessert and a movie instead of dinner?”
He closed his eyes for just a second too long, dealing with his own inner storm. Then he raised his head and gave me a smile. “I’d like that.”
I retrieved a carton of ice cream from the freezer while he dumped the dishes into the sink. With two spoons in one hand, ice cream in the other, I headed to the living room.
We sat on the couch, close, touching from shoulder to hip. I threw a leg over his because I was lost at sea, the ship having fallen into splinters that were washing away on the waves.
I needed to hold on to someone, to hold on to him. He wrapped his arm behind my shoulders and pulled me closer, shifting so we touched as much as possible.
Spud jumped up next to Ryder, laying his head and the stuffed french fry in his mouth on our laps. He wagged his tail slowly, like he did when we were sick and he was in bed waiting for us to get better.
I handed Ryder a spoon. He turned on the TV.
We shared the ice cream, adrift and looking for shore.
* * *
I woke on the couch, stiff and cotton-mouthed. The sound of Ryder’s footsteps, his boots, crossed the floor to the door. I blinked at the ceiling, waiting, listening.
It was still dark out.
