“The wallpaper is a criminal offense, but otherwise, I agree.”
She laughed.
Then she turned to me.
“Would you help me move?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t have to do everything for me.”
“I know.”
She studied my face.
“I’m serious, Mark. I want to be able to stand on my own again.”
“And you will.”
“What happens to us when I move out?”
There it was.
The question we’d both been avoiding.
I slipped my hands into my pockets.
“Hopefully, you continue making fun of my cooking.”
She smiled faintly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” I admitted. “It isn’t.”
She looked toward the balcony.
“I care about you.”
My heart began to beat harder.
“I care about you too.”
“But I don’t want you to feel responsible for me. I don’t want to stay because I have nowhere else to go.”
I stepped closer.
“Sarah, the first night you came here, I gave you a room because you needed somewhere safe. Everything that has happened since then has been a choice. Yours and mine.”
