“You sure?”
“Well … you remember the last time Miguel came to visit?”
“Last month,” Catherine said. “Yeah, why?”
“Juan asked me then about taking Cece out.”
Catherine’s brow raised high. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Cross shrugged. “I told him no.”
She stiffened. “What—why?”
“Not no that they couldn’t … continue to be whatever the fuck they are. What are they, anyway?”
Catherine pursed her lips. “I don’t know. When it’s them, it’s them. That’s what I see, Cross. I don’t worry about the rest. That’s for them to figure out.”
“Like us, then.”
“What?”
“Us, Catty. You know, back when we were confused and together and not together … and everything else. When it was us, we were—”
“Us,” she whispered.
Cross nodded. “Yeah, babe.”
“But you told him no?”
“I said no to something like them going out of the house alone, or that kind of thing. Besides, it’s not that I don’t trust Juan, Catherine. I know he would be responsible, and good to Cece.”
“Then what it is?”
“Her,” Cross said simply.
“Her.”
“Mmhmm. She’s still unsure. She still doesn’t know. Last month, she was texting a boy at school, and at the last formal, she was excited about having two different boys to go with. She’s still trying to figure out this dating thing—this boys thing. Do you want her to figure that out with him? Figure that out on him? A boy who cares for her—loves her?”
“You think he—”
“I know he loves her,” Cross said, nodding. “And I think she loves him, too, but she’s still trying to figure this out. I want her to have the time to do that, Catherine. So yeah, when it’s them, it’s them. And when it’s not them, they don’t have to worry about it right now.”
“Huh.”
“You look confused,” her husband murmured, coming close enough to wrap her in his arms.
“No, not confused.”
“What, then?”
“I just remembered something, that’s all.”
Cross tipped Catherine’s head back, and dropped a kiss to her lips. “And what is that, my girl?”
“How amazing you are.”
Because he was. More than anyone knew.
Except Catherine.
Catherine always knew.