Page 180 of His Surrender

I place my hand over hers. “Then you had to make me love you.”

My voice breaks. “And he had to do the same thing.”

I look toward the hallway before I can stop myself, as though Dean might somehow appear there despite being at work.

I woke before my alarm this morning after spending most of the night drifting in and out of shallow sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Love you and survive it.”

The longer the silence stretches between us, the more impossible it becomes to pretend that Saturday night was only a moment of panic.

Dean loves me. He also believes loving me may destroy him.

I’m not sure which truth will win.

Liana drops the teething ring and lets out an irritated grunt. I pick it up, wipe it against my shirt, and return it to her.

“You’re lucky your problems are easy.”

She smiles around the rubber ring, and I try to smile back.

At eleven, I take Liana into the kitchen for her bottle. I warm it while she watches every movement with the serious concentration she reserves for food.

She drinks greedily, one hand resting against my chest.

My phone vibrates on the table. My heart jumps so violently that Liana startles in my arms.

“Sorry.”

I reach for it with one hand, nearly knocking over my water glass in my hurry.

The notification is an email. A response to one of the applications I submitted a couple of weeks ago.

For several seconds, I stare at the subject line—Interview Availability.

I look down at Liana and feel something hollow open inside me.

The job is with a graphic design company in Chicago.

I applied before Dean and I were serious, before I thought we had a chance at being a real couple. At the time, Chicago seemed practical.

The position is entry level but legitimate, with benefits and room to grow. The salary would not go far in Manhattan, but it would be enough in Chicago if I found a roommate.

I read the email twice. They want to speak with me on Wednesday afternoon.

Liana’s sucking slows as she begins drifting toward sleep.

I should reply immediately. Instead, I lock my phone and set it face down.

The thought of leaving makes my chest ache.

I lower my cheek to the top of Liana’s head and breathe in the sweet, warm scent of her.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Her eyelids remain closed.