Page 46 of Obeying

She takes a breath, then faces me. "I'm sorry about the other night. It was inappropriate. I don't know why I did that. I think with everything going on it's just getting to me, and I wasn't thinking clearly, and it was a moment of, I don't know, temporary insanity probably, and I shouldn't have⁠—"

"Portland."

She stops.

"It's fine."

She blinks. "It's fine?"

"It's fine." I take a sip of my coffee and try to look calm, because one of us has to be, and she clearly isn't. "You've got a lot on your mind. I get it."

She exhales, then wraps both hands around her mug, even though the coffee is too hot to drink. She stares into it, processing, trying to figure out if 'it's fine' means I'm brushing it off or if it means something else entirely.

It means something else entirely, but she doesn't need to know that right now.

The silence stretches. She's gripping her mug like it's the only thing keeping her grounded.

"For the record," I say, "you don't have to avoid me. I'm not going to make it weird."

"I was the one who made it weird."

"Do my ears deceive me? Kristen Portland, self-aware?"

"I've always been self-aware, Maxwell. Don't push it."

"There she is." I take a sip of my coffee. "See, this is more fun. When you fight back instead of running away."

The defensiveness drops, and she smiles. Small, but real.

"You're right." She nods, and when she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "And speaking of fighting back, I've been thinking about starting my rebuttal against Miguel. There's no final date for the hearing yet, but I want to be ready."

"Agreed. We should prepare thoroughly." I set my coffee down. "When's your next day off?"

Kristen looks at me, curious. "Why?"

"Clear the day. I know a place we can go. Somewhere private and quiet. Away from the hospital, away from any distractions." I pause. "We can concentrate. You can relax, think clearly. Would that be alright?"

I ask because she spent three years with a man who never did, and I'm not going to be the second person who makes decisions for her.

She searches my face for a second. Whatever she finds there must be enough because she nods.

"Alright."

"I'll pick you up at nine."

She nods again, takes a sip of her coffee, then winces because it's still too hot. And for a second, the corner of her mouth pulls up. She looks at me over the rim of the mug with those dark brown eyes, and again, I think about the way she kissed me.

I might be in serious trouble.

"Thursday," she says.

"Thursday."

She pushes off the counter and walks out. I stand there with my coffee getting cold in my hand, and I watch her go.

Mitchell would be proud of me for approximately five seconds before he'd start laughing.

I take a sip of my cold coffee.