“Sebby,” he said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
I guess this was it.
“About the tension between us. You know I love you, right?”
I stopped rubbing my hands and looked up. “Neil,” I protested.
“I think. If you can be patient with me, I can—become out about this.”
“Patient?” I echoed. “Four years isn’t long enough of a wait?”
“Seb,” Neil said in his chastising tone. “It’s different for me. You know that.”
I pressed a hand gently to my forehead and shut my eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now, Neil. It’s only making me angry.”
“Why angry?”
“I’m not waiting another four years to hold your hand in public,” I replied firmly. “I can’t. It’s my fault, for not realizing so much sooner how difficult this actually was for you…. Neil, I—I still need some time to think about this.”
“You don’t want me to come home?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“You’re the one who stormed out.”
“Y-Yeah, but you need someone to take care of you.”
“No, I don’t.” I turned my head a little to stare at him. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready to discuss this, but honestly this wasn’t the answer I expected from you.”
“What did you expect?” When I didn’t respond, Neil asked, “Do you want to break up?”
I swallowed the baseball lodged in my throat. “I… don’t know.”
I thought I had known the answer. Twelve hours ago I was sure of it. But maybe faced with Neil and no way to escape made me chicken out. Did I want to continue riding the rough waves of our relationship? I knew no pairing was perfect and the waters would always push you down, but shouldn’t a healthy couple… not be struggling to break the surface all the time?
I just couldn’t say that. The concussion must have knocked the courage out of me. Or maybe I just didn’t know how to face saying good-bye to something that had been a part of me for so long.
“I can’t do this now,” I whispered.
“Sebby, if you don’t know if you want to remain together, don’t you think that speaks for itself?”
“Neil, please.”
He let out one of his frustrated sighs. “Fine.” He stood, leaned over, and kissed my forehead so gently, it felt like being touched by a feather. “Give me a call when they are ready to discharge you. I’ll bring you home.”
I didn’t respond really, but squeezed his hand and waved when he left the room.
I needed another nap.
IT WAScompletely dark when I woke again. My head still hurt like a bitch, but the heavy fog that had been making me feel disoriented and lost was starting to clear. It helped that I could see better in this darkness.
I looked around the tiny room. My glasses were sitting on the small table with a swinging arm so it could be moved in front of me. I reached over and missed once—twice—before snagging them and putting them on.
It felt better, being able to make out details.
Like Calvin asleep in the chair beside me. He looked uncomfortable. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest, and his suit jacket, which he’d been using as a blanket, was falling onto his lap. His head rested awkwardly on his shoulder.
It had to be the middle of the night. The hospital was quiet. Why had he come back? The precious few hours he had to sleep, he chose that uncomfortable chair at my side instead of his own bed?
My heart swelled and beat uncomfortably fast.
