“So I’m asking,” he continued. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Her throat moved.
“Maybe.”
“I can wait.”
“Of course you can.” There was an unexpected sharpness in the words.
He turned towards her and saw her eyes had gone bright.
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means you can always wait. You can always step back. You can always give me space.” She looked down at the beads again. “You’re very good at making sure I know exactly how little you expect from me.”
“I thought that was important.”
“It was.”
“Was?”
She drew in a breath.
“It still is. I don’t want you making my decisions for me. I meant everything I said before.” She looked up. “But that’s not the same thing as pretending you don’t have any wants of your own.”
He stared at her, not understanding what she meant.
“I don’t pretend that.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She gave a small, unhappy laugh.
“Exactly.”
“Polly—”
“Last night meant something to me.” Her voice wavered, but she kept going. “This morning meant something to me. Andthen I spent half the day thinking about what comes next, and I came home wondering, and you’ve been sitting over there being careful.”
“I didn’t know whether you wanted me close.”
“Did you want to be close?”
“Yes.”
“Then why weren’t you?”
He winced.
“Because I knew you were pulling away.”
“So you pulled farther.”
“I was giving you room.”
