“I need to know what I’m doing here,” she says.
There it is.
The line in the sand.
I swallow once.
“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I already know.
She huffs a soft breath, almost a laugh.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
A step closer.
Now we’re within reach.
“I’ve been here,” she says. “Showing up. Spending time with you. Letting you take care of me.”
Her eyes search mine.
“And I like you, Tristan.”
That lands.
Because I know it’s real.
“I’m not doing this halfway,” she continues.
Her voice lowers.
More intimate.
More direct.
“I’m not your distraction.”
My jaw tightens.
“I’m not your… placeholder until you figure your shit out with her.”
That hits harder.
Because it’s closer to the truth than I want to admit.
“I deserve more than that,” she says.
She does.
That’s the problem.
“So,” she finishes, lifting her chin slightly, “are we doing this?”
Silence.
The question hangs there.
Heavy.
