Chapter 21: My Choice

"Because he's waiting," I told Finlay. "And I'm slow."

It wasn't a good answer, but Finlay accepted it with a nod and another bite of French toast.

I carried the question around all day.

At the clinic I held a beagle still for his shots and thought about a man with his boots on a dashboard.

At lunch I thought about his hands.

At five Dot came into the break room, took my coat off the hook, and put it in my arms.

"I'm taking the kid," she said. "I've got a movie about a crab that sings. He's sleeping in my room."

"Dot."

"Go and knock on that window, Yvaine. I'm too old to keep carrying coffee out there."

I went downstairs at nine.

The rain had stopped, and the streetlight made a yellow puddle around the black truck.

I tapped on the glass.

Hamish sat up so fast that he hit the roof with his head.

He rolled the window down.

"Is Finlay all right?"

"He's with Dot."

"Are you all right?"

"No," I said. "I've been alone with this for three nights, and you've been out here being decent about it. I'm sick of it."

His mouth opened, and I put two fingers on his lips.

"I'm going to say it once, so don't talk. I have not forgiven you. I may not for a long time."

"But you have asked me for nothing. I want something, and it's mine to ask for."

He looked at me over my fingers.

His amber eyes were very dark.

"What do you want?"

"Come upstairs," I said.

He followed me up the back stair without a word.

I locked my apartment door behind us and turned the lamp on low.

In the bedroom he stopped at the foot of my bed with his hands open at his sides.

I stood in front of him and undid his shirt button by button.

I took my time.

His heart was thudding under the black letters, and I laid my cheek against it.