She runs.
I drop the duffel.
She hits me in the chest and I catch her and her legs go around my waist and her arms go around my neck and sheburies her face in my shoulder and she doesn't say anything and I don't either.
I stand on a Toronto sidewalk in the middle of the night holding a woman who flew from my cabin to this city four days ago and could not survive another four hours without me and I knew it because I could not survive another four hours without her.
"I had a speech," she says into my neck.
"Yeah?"
"It was a good one."
"Tell me."
"Can't remember a word of it."
"That's okay."
"Gray."
"Yeah."
"Don't go back without me."
My whole chest locks up.
"Simone."
"I'm done. I'm done pretending I can do this from here. I was going to call you in the morning. I was going to say it. I had it in my phone. I was going to say I'll finish the follow up from the cabin. I'll file from the porch. I'll come back to Toronto when I have to and I'll go wherever my job takes me but home is where you are and home is on that mountain. I was going to say that. I was going to say it in the morning."
"Say it now."
"Home is where you are."
"Again."
"Home is where you are."
I set her down. Keep my hands on her waist.
"I was coming here to ask you."
"Ask me what."
"To come back with me. Whenever you were ready. This week. Next month. After the follow up filed. I was going to ask and then wait."
"You flew to Toronto at one in the morning to ask me a question and then wait?"
"Yeah."
"Grayson."
"What."
"You are a ridiculous man."
"I know."
