“You can change your mind whenever you want.”
“I’m aware.”
“We can use separate entrances.”
“I know.”
“We can skip the carpet.”
“Annie.”
“Yes?”
“You have now provided every exit available in this vehicle.”
“There may be a service road.”
“Stop helping.”
I closed my mouth.
Ellie adjusted the skirt over her knees.
“I want to walk in with you,” she said. “I am also nervous, the shoes are hostile, and I reserve the right to refuse any question I don’t like.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“I may refuse every question.”
“Still reasonable.”
Her gaze stayed on me.
“Are you sure you want this?”
Questions about my own discomfort were easier to answer.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because I loved her.
Because Claire had once entered buildings through kitchens while I smiled alone at the front.
Because six months of delayed flights, early-morning calls, weekends on Pelican Key, and disagreements about calendars had made Ellie part of my real life whether anybody photographed us or not.
Because I was tired of allowing public silence to resemble private shame.
All of those answers were true.
None belonged in a sound bite.
“I want to arrive with my girlfriend,” I said. “I don’t want to turn you into a statement, but I also don’t want to act as if standing beside you is something that needs to be disguised.”
Ellie considered the answer.
“Good.”
