“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Tilly went still.
“I understand why.”
Then I looked at both of them.
“But neither of you gets to decide what I can handle for me.”
After Tilly left, Conor asked, “What do you want from me now?”
“I want a husband. Not a protector who shuts me out.”
He nodded.
“I understand why.”
“And if I make it hard for you to be scared around me, tell me. I’ll work on that.”
I took his hand.
“But don’t lie to me and call it love.”
***
Several weeks later, the cast was gone.
Conor sat beside me.
“I’m worried about the next follow-up.”
I took his hand.
The old questions rose automatically.
I let them pass.
“Do you want help, or do you want company?”
“Company.”
He reached for my hand, then stopped halfway, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to anymore. I closed the distance myself.
