Page 53 of Sit, Stay

The wine glass is cold in my hand. My other hand finds Biscuit's fur, stroking the soft spot behind his ears over and over. He leans into the touch, warm and solid and uncomplicated.

"I don't know."

"Liar."

"Sophie—"

"Your left eye is twitching."

"It is not—" I press my fingers to my eye. It's definitely twitching.

She reaches across the couch and takes my hand. "Cal. Babe. What are you actually afraid of?"

"That he'll leave when I say no."

"And what if he doesn't?"

I can't breathe. "Then I have to decide if I can trust that. If I can believe that this time is different. That he's different."

"Is he?"

I think about the lake. The way he remembered my coffee. The patience while I worked. The dog tags tangled in my hair. The way he looked at me yesterday morning like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I think he is."

"So what's the real problem?"

"I want to go." I say it fast, before I can take it back. "That's what scares me. He said Texas and I thought 'maybe.' And that terrifies me."

Sophie squeezes my hand. "Why?"

"Because what if I say yes and he realizes I'm not worth it? What if I give up everything and six months from now he's bored or realizes this was too fast or decides actually, never mind, this was a mistake?"

"What if you say no and spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you'd been brave enough to try?" Sophie leans forward. "What if ten years from now you're still here, still running the same practice, still safe, and you see some guy who reminds you of Dean and you think 'what if?' What if you meet someone else and it's fine, it's good even, but it's not him? What if the worst thing that happens isn't that you take a chance and it doesn't work out—what if the worst thing is that you never take the chance at all?"

The wine glass empties fast. "I hate it when you're insightful."

"Someone has to be. You're too busy being terrified." She tops off my glass. "For what it's worth, I don't think Dean's going anywhere. That man looks at you like you invented happiness."

"He didn't even ask, Soph. He just assumed."

"Which was stupid and wrong and very male of him." She takes a sip of her own wine. "But also kind of sweet? In a dumb, overconfident, 'I'm so sure you're going to say yes I already started planning our life together' kind of way?"

"That's not sweet."

"It's a little sweet."

"It's presumptuous."

"It's both." She shifts on the couch, tucking her legs under her. "Look, I'm not saying you should pack your bags tomorrow. But maybe don't shut the door completely? Maybe have another conversation when you're both less emotional and more rational?"

"I told him to leave." I pull my knees up to my chest.

"So call him back." Sophie holds out my phone.

I push it away. "I can't."

"Which is it? Can't, or won't?" She waves the phone at me.