Page 106 of Josephine and Clay

“You know,” he says, “you don’t have to decide everything today.”

My hand stills. “I’m not deciding everything.”

“Mm.”

“I’m making plans.”

“Plans are good.”

“Yes.”

“Unless you’re using them to avoid feeling anything.”

I look over my shoulder. “That sounds like something from a pamphlet.”

“It was a very good pamphlet.”

“I’m not avoiding.”

He gives me a look. I hate that everyone has started looking at me as if I'm transparent.

“I’m being practical,” I say.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. I have to be practical. I can’t just…” I gesture sharply, not even sure what I mean. Fall apart? Hope? Trust the wrong person? “I can’t just wait and see what happens.”

His expression remains calm. “No one is asking you to.”

“Good.”

“But practical doesn’t have to mean alone.”

I look down at the counter and wipe the same clean spot three times. “I’m not alone. I have Penny.”

“You do.”

“And you.”

“You do.”

“And a job.”

“Yes.”

“And a budget.”

His mouth twitches. “Naturally.”

“So I’m fine.”

He doesn’t argue, which makes it worse. A beat passes. Then he says, “You’re allowed to be scared, Josephine.”

My grip tightens around the wipe. I want to deny it. The words are ready. Familiar. Automatic. But I can’t quite force them out, because I'm scared.

I'm scared of doing the wrong thing. Scared of needing too much. Scared of telling Clay and watching his face change. Scared of not telling him and carrying this alone until alone becomes the only thing I know how to be.

I toss the wipe into the bin. “Fear doesn’t change the facts.”