“You won’t.” He shakes his head. “I promise. I won’t.”
I wish I could believe him—what would it take for me to believe him? And what do I need in the meantime, what am I willing to withstand? (How would someone withprideanswer these questions . . .)
I close my eyes. My voice is low. “I’m not saying you have to stay with me forever. But you can’t just give up without a fight.”
“I’m so sorry, Baz.”
I push and pull on his jumper. His forehead thunks against mine. I nod. “Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?” he whispers back.
“Okay, Snow. We’ll try. We’ll try this with you trying.”
“Yeah?”
I nod against him. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” He exhales roughly against my lips, then takes another shuddering breath. “Christ, I’m so scared.”
“Already? Don’t we get a day of clinging to each other before things fall apart again?”
Simon laughs over my mouth. He’s been drinking orange juice. He needs a shower. He smells like a locker room and a back alley and something bleachy.
“I don’t—” he says, looking down. “I—”
His hair is in my eyes. I brush my nose against his.
He starts again: “I don’t know how not to be afraid that you’ll leave me.”
I scoff. “Iwon’t leaveyou.When have I ever left?”
“You can’t know how it will be,” he says, head hanging. “Over time. You might not want me once you don’t have to worry about me leaving.”
Who even knew Simon was capable of such mental gymnastics? “You have a real genius for catastrophizing, Snow.”
“Is that the same as having a genius for catastrophes? Because, obviously. How many times has Penny’s mum said so?”
I pull back so he can see me. “I’m not going to gettiredof you.”
“You can’tknowthat,” he says, bumping my nose with his forehead.
“Ican.Look at me.” I catch his chin. I wait for his blue eyes to settle on mine. “This thing between us didn’t start with us dating. It didn’t even start when you kissed me. You’re in me so deep, I wouldn’t know how to dig you out. I may get fed up with you . . . But, Simon, I’ll never gettiredof you.”
His hand is still on my face. He traces his thumb under my eye. “Penelope always says that the best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour.”
“Penelope didn’t say that. Everyone says that.”
“Iliterallydestroyliterallyeverything I touch.”
“That’s an overstatement.”
“I fuck it up, Baz, with everyone. Look what I did to Agatha. And the Mage. Merlin, who knows what happened with my own parents . . .”
“There is so much to unpack in that sentence.”
He laughs, but he looks miserable again.
I tug at his jumper. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Snow. You’re not allowed to feel sorry for yourself as long as you get to have me.”
