Page 117 of Hidden

I look at her, knowing this is the one time I have to be honest with her.

"I saw you in the courtyard," I say. "You had the camera and I couldn't stop looking."

She holds my gaze. "That's not an explanation," she says.

I stay quiet because I’m not sure what to say to her, I really don’t have the words.

She looks at her plate, she picks up her fork this time and keeps it. We eat for a few minutes in the quiet that is looming over us.

"Did you think about stopping?" she asks, "at any point."

"Yes."

"But you didn't." I look at her across the table. At the two bracelets on her wrist, both of which are catching the low light.

"Because every time I decided to stop, I found something else I didn't know yet," I say. "And I became more and more addicted to you.”

She's quiet for a moment. "Do you have feelings for me?"

I look at her and there is only one word to say. "Yes,"

She looks at me for a long time, placing her fork down. Then she leans back slightly in her chair.

"You could have just talked to me," she says.

"I could have."

"That would have been the normal thing to do."

"I know."

"But you didn't."

"No, I thought it would be more fun this way."

"Because?"

I look at her. "Because I wasn't ready for you to know me yet. I needed to understand you first." I hold her gaze. "I know that's not how it's supposed to work."

"It's really not," she says, but something in her voice has shifted into something soft.

We finish eating, I pay the bill, and I’m still working out what this means for us.

"What happens now?" she asks as the waiter walks away.

"That depends on you."

"You're very good at turning questions back." She smiles, and it’s the first time she looks like the Sadie I know.

"You're very good at asking them."

"I'm not saying everything is fine," she says. "Because it isn't. You went through my things, and you watched me without my knowledge. There are parts of this I'm still…" she pauses, finding the word, "…processing."

"I know."

"But..." She looks at me. "I also know how the Debussy feels when I run the floor piece. I know what it felt like when you said you carry too much at eleven o'clock at night." Her hand stays on mine. "And I know what it felt like when you kissed me this afternoon."

“I don’t mind kissing you again,” I say making her laugh “Or happy to do other things.” I stand up and walk around the table to pull her chair out for her so she can stand.