Page 149 of Cruel Demands

Instead, I sit on the floor outside a locked bedroom because the woman inside might decide to leave me.

The door opens shortly after midnight. Taylor stands there in a thin sleep shirt, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and her eyes are swollen. She looks down at me. “What are you doing?”

Lying near you. “Trying to sleep.”

“Why are you out here?”

Because I am afraid that if I go to our room, what is supposed to be our room, you will disappear.

Because I have spent my life believing control was the same as security, and today you looked at me as though every promise I made was another lock clicking shut.

Because there is a child growing inside you, and I have never wanted anything more or trusted myself with anything less.

“I wanted to be near you,” I say.

Taylor closes her eyes. “You wanted to be near me, or you wanted to know if I was leaving?”

I move to my knees and steady myself against the wall, looking up at her, at the exhaustion in the purple under her eyes, the youth I still see in the shining green of them. I take her hand and smile to see that she is still wearing the costume ring I put on her finger four weeks ago. I consider her question carefully, the anger simmering under her calmly constructed expression.

“How can I be near you if you are leaving?” I ask.

She runs a tongue along her teeth, and I am certain that I said the wrong thing. “What a…diplomatic…answer.”

“You are angry.”

“Yes. You bought my father’s restaurant without asking me.”

“Well, I am angry too. Go back inside. I will stay out here.”

“So, no apology from you then?”

I consider giving it to her just to smooth things over. It would be easier. To give her the answer she wants, promise to undo whatever can be undone, and persuade her to come to our shared bed.

But she already believes I manipulate her. I will not confirm it by offering remorse I do not fully feel. “No.”

“You think you did nothing wrong?”

“I think I should have told you earlier, in a different way, not to prove something. I know you do not use me for money,” I say.

“You should have told—you should have asked me.”

I look away. The distinction remains difficult for me. Not intellectually. I understand her argument. I simply cannot understand watching a person I care for drown while waiting for permission to pull her from the water. “I will stay here,” I tell her.

“That’s ridiculous. You have a bedroom. Several bedrooms.”

“I am fine, Taylor. I have been through worse than sleeping on the floor.”

Her mouth tightens. Then she steps aside, rolling her eyes. “Just get in the bed.” I do not move. “Before I change my mind. It doesn’t mean I forgive you. Or trust you again.”

The word again is almost a mercy. Not completely lost. Only damaged.

I enter carefully. I lie on top of the covers, fully dressed, keeping my body near the edge of the mattress. Taylor gets in on the other side and turns away from me. The space between us is less than a meter. It feels greater than an ocean.

For several minutes, neither of us speaks. Then Taylor says, “You can get undressed. And you can get under the covers.”

“I am comfortable.”

“You look insane,” she says, turning to face me, her palms pressed together under her cheek.