She shrugged, small. “Maybe nothing. Maybe just to keep me alive.”
I said, “I want to keep you alive. As a minimum. That would be nice.” I smiled.
The eggs hit the pan. The sizzle filled the air. I watched her as I cooked, the way her eyes softened as the smell hit her.
I plated the eggs, the sausage, the peppers. I grated the cheese over both, thick enough to melt, then set a plate in front of her.
Was I really going to lie to her? This heavenly creature?
I said, “Eat. Please.”
She picked up the fork, started slow, but finished half the plate before I’d even sat down.
I ate next to her, both of us silent, the only noise the scrape of forks on ceramic and the faint hum of the radiator.
After, we sat in the quiet. She wiped her mouth, then looked at the pad again, tracing the notes with her finger.
She said, “Are we safe?”
I wanted to tell her yes. I wanted to tell her no. What I did was squeeze her hand, once, then let go.
“For tonight, we’re safe.”
She nodded, believing me, or pretending to.
I watched her for a while. The light caught the rim of her glasses and made her eyes look almost silver.
Something hit me. We were walking into danger together. I had to give her something before it all hit, something good. Something pure.
I said, “Tomorrow, I want you to take the day off. No work. No research. No nothing. You’ll let me take care of you. You’ll let me treat you. Take you somewhere.”
She snorted. “You mean, like a date?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She glanced away, then back at me. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“You’ll do more than try,” I said, and let my voice drop, soft but final.
She blushed. I liked it. I liked her.
The night moved quiet after that. I cleaned up, she watched me. We didn’t touch again, not right away, but the silence was easier now. Like we were both waiting for something but not in a hurry.
The phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew the number. Sal.
I stood, dropped my napkin, kissed the top of her head, and said, “I have to take this.”
She nodded, already reaching for her pen, already back in her world.
I stepped onto the terrace, let the cold hit my face, and answered.
I listened to Sal’s voice, low and tight, as he ran through the plan again. We had at least a day, he said, before they hit. Maybe longer. But tomorrow was clear.
I watched the city lights. I watched my breath cloud and disappear.
I thought about her, warm in the kitchen, glasses crooked, pen in hand.
I thought about what would happen if I lost her.
