“I don’t mind,” I said gently.
There was another long moment. He looked up. “When do you leave?”
“This weekend.”
He nodded again. “Saturday or Sunday?”
“Sunday.”
“And there’s no chance anything can change…”
“My boss has been trying. He’s trying to get them to reverse the policy, but I think first they have to drag everyone back into the office to prove a point. And I applied—I did apply for a Canadian work visa.” Paul glanced up at me. “But the lawyer put my chances around fifty-fifty, so I don’t want you to wait on that. Not that you would, but...”
“What a day,” Paul said.
“If it matters any,” I said quietly, “I want to stay.” It was true. I wanted to hug my sister and make her feel better. But I wanted this life. I wanted Paul.
“It matters,” he said. “But maybe this is good. We knew things would end, and I—I have so much to deal with right now, and I felt guilty dragging you in the middle of it.”
“Don’t. You deserve someone who can help you through all this. I want to be that person. You can call me anytime. I just can’t expect you to…” I trailed off.
“It’s good you’re going to be with your sister. She’ll need you.”
He moved over to sit next to me and took my hand. It was a strange feeling. I felt like I was noticing for the first time how introverted he was, how much trouble he had with talking about things. I thought of the way Lisette had explained their marriage, that Trish walked all over him, perhaps because he was like this, so quiet. He could be loud and funny on stage, but in ordinary life, he retreated. I waited for him.
After a moment, he took a breath, pulling himself together. “So how was the rest of the show? Was there a rest of the show?”
“It went fine. Everything was fine. We got through the rest of the performance. We got a laugh or two, even. But it was awkward. I wanted to come after you, but I didn’t want to make things worse.”
“No, you did the right thing.” He shook his head a little. “You’re so amazing, Abby. To still keep going in the middle of all that. During your first show? You have to do improv in New York, you know. I hear they have some there. Not as good as ours, of course.”
“Of course not.”
“Can I…can I come over?”
I shook my head. In spite of my best efforts, I started to cry. “I don’t think I can handle it. I’ll be too sad.”
“Okay.”
My phone buzzed. It was Lisette.
“She wants to know how you’re doing.” I showed him the text.
“I’ll call her,” he said.
“I should get going,” I said, standing up.
“You don’t have to go yet.”
“I do…I can’t…” I took a deep breath.
He gave me a sad little smile and nodded, once.
I got up to go, and he gave me a hug good-bye at the door. “You’ll call me before you go?”
“I’ll come by,” I said. “Saturday. I’ll bring you back all your books. Okay?”
“I would say you can keep them, but I want to make sure I see you again, so okay.”
