Chapter 19: What He Never Asked

I lasted four days.

On Friday night I drove Hallie's Honda to the boat shop.

I sat in the gravel yard with the engine off for ten minutes.

The loft window was lit.

I could see him moving behind it, shirtless, with a sander in his hand.

He had not called, because I had asked him for time, and he had given me every minute of it.

That made me angrier than anything.

I went up the stairs and knocked.

He opened the door in jeans with sawdust in his hair.

He didn't smile, and he didn't step back.

"You said how much time," I said. "It's been four days."

"I said how much. You said you didn't know."

"I know now."

"How much?"

"Not any more."

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he took one step toward me, and I took one toward him, and the door swung shut behind me.

His hand came up and closed along my jaw, rough and warm, and he turned my face toward him.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"I want you to quit being so patient with me."

"That's not what I asked."

"I want you."

He kissed me so hard that my back met the wall by the coat hooks.

His mouth was hungry, and his thumb pressed under my chin, and my hands were already under his belt.

I was breathing in his sawdust and his soap.

I felt him hard against my hip, and I rolled against it, and he groaned.

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