She laughs again, but there’s no humour in it. “Yeah, well. Real got me kicked out of my flat.”
“You can stay here for as long as you want.”
She looks at me for a long time and I can see the argument she’s fighting with herself not to start. Then, she gets out of bed and walks into the bathroom. The shower turns on a minute later.
I listen to the water hit tile and try not to think about the fact that this is the longest five days of my life.
And we’re nowhere near the end of it. I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees and try not to brace for whatever version of her walks back out.
When the water cuts, I don’t move.
She comes out in one of my T-shirts and fresh shorts, towel rubbing through her hair aggressively like she’s trying to scrub the week off her scalp.
She doesn’t look at me at first.
She goes to the dresser.
Opens it.
Closes it.
Opens it again.
“Do you resent me?” I ask.
She freezes then she finally looks at me. Her eyes aren’t angry, they’re tired.
“You want me to say it?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.”
“Fine. I resent you.”
I nod once. “Okay.”
Her eyebrows knit together like she expected me to argue.
“Okay?” she repeats. “Don’t just take it!”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Defend yourself. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re not. Still,” I push. “Tell me what’s on your mind. Please.”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Then make me get it.”
She sighs before she runs a hand through her damp hair.
“If you had just been a fling, I could’ve chosen her. If you had just been a distraction, I could’ve walked away and hated you and moved on. I had her for twenty years before you. Twenty. Years. And you came in and in months I couldn’t even answer her when she asked me to choose. It feels like you came in and rearranged my entire life. My loyalties. My priorities. My future. And now everything is on fire and I’m standing here with nothing stable except you. And that terrifies me.”
I step closer.
“Why?”
“Because what if you leave?”
