“I love you too. I’m heading out. I just need a little time before being bombarded with questions.”
“I haven’t had any sleep, and I’m sorry,” Greyson says, weary and worn.
Matt folds his lips over his teeth and just nods in appreciation for the apology. Our feet seem to be stuck in cement. No one moves.
“Okay. Leaving now. Matt, follow me to the diner?” I ask.
“How about we just go to my place?”
“Okay, then I’ll follow you.” Because if Matt doesn’t say what I’m wishing for, then I’ll need an escape plan.
We leave without saying goodbyes. It’s better this way.
TWENTY-NINE
MATT
“Want a drink? Oh, uh. I have water and Diet Coke.”
“I’m good.”
I grab two water bottles out of the fridge, loosen the top on one, and hand it to her. “Sit. I have so much to say.”
We sit the same way, half-turned to look at each other with one knee tucked under the other leg, making a diamond shape. Placing her hand in mine, I brush back and forth over her skin.
“There’s only one thing I need to know. Are we in a real relationship or not? Because if the answer is no, we’re not, then there’s not much else to say.”
I wish that was all that mattered.
“No, there’s more that you need to know.”
“I have six months or so to figure out how to be a mom. Just tell me if you want me.”
Her words are brittle, like she might break if I say no. But sometimes life isn’t easy, and we need to lay all of our cards on the table before decisions have to be made. She needs to know what I’ve been hiding from her.
“I’m on dialysis,” I say plainly. No jokes. No deflection. “Started recently.”
Her face drains of color. “Dialysis? Why?”
“Diabetes is a nasty disease, even when you do everything right. I’m on the kidney transplant list too,” I continue. “They don’t know when—or if—a match will come.”
The silence stretches. Heavy. Fragile.
“That's why I tried putting a little distance between us. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you,” I admit. “I’m still getting used to it myself.”
She scoots closer. “Matt…”
“You already have so much on your plate. I need you to worry about you and your baby’s health, not mine.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” she says, her voice quiet but rock-steady.
“You should walk away from me without regrets. I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together, but…”
“Is that what you want? For me to walk away?” she asks, stressing the wordyou. “Because I’m asking you if you have real feelings for me. Not as a sex mentor or my brothers’ little sister. But for me?”
I almost choke. “I do. I haven't attached myself to someone in a long time. One, no one interested me. Two, I can’t give a girlfriend… you. What can I give you? A life of wondering when I’m going to die?”
She reaches for my hand and says, “Mom lived a short life. She was about your age when she passed away. Do you think my dad sits around and thinks he should have married someone else? Someone who wasn’t going to die on him?” She pauses. “Of course, he doesn’t. He thinks about all the things they did together, the life they lived. How hard they loved.”
