"I know." She doesn't look at me. "I'm nervous too."
"We don't have to do this. We can forget the whole thing."
"I don't want to forget it." She closes the dishwasher and turns to face me. "I want to do this. I'm just scared."
"Of what?"
"That I'll freeze. That it'll be too much. That I'll panic and ruin everything."
"You won't ruin anything." I step closer, giving her space to back away if she needs to. She doesn't. "We go at your pace. We stop when you need to. That's the deal."
"What if my pace is too slow?"
"Then it's too slow. There's no timeline, Maya."
She studies my face. "You really mean that."
"Every word."
Something shifts in her expression. The fear doesn't leave, but it softens. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. Tonight. After everyone goes to bed." She pauses. "If you still want to."
Want to?I've wanted her for years. But saying that would break rule number five.
"I want to," I say instead. "But only if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
She leaves the kitchen before I can respond. I hear her footsteps on the stairs, the guest room door closing.
I stand here gripping the counter, heart pounding.
Tonight.
The next two hours are torture. Emma and Chase watchsome show in the living room. I sit with them pretending to pay attention, but all I can think about is Maya upstairs waiting, nervous, probably second-guessing everything.
I try to focus on the TV, but it's useless. My leg bounces with nervous energy, my hands keep fidgeting with my phone, and every five minutes I check the time like that'll make it move faster.
Chase notices. "You good, man? You keep bouncing your leg."
"Yeah. Just thinking about tomorrow's practice."
Another lie to add to the collection.
Emma yawns around ten. "I'm exhausted. Pregnancy is kicking my ass."
"Come on." Chase helps her up. "Let's get you to bed."
They head upstairs, and I hear them moving around, the bathroom routine, the bedroom door closing.
Then silence.
I should wait, give them time to fall asleep, and make sure nobody's going to come back downstairs for water or a snack.
Instead, I head to the basement. My room feels too small, the walls too close, and I sit on the edge of the bed trying to steady my breathing.
