I take too long to respond, though. He notices my silence, my hesitation. I think it spooks him, because he shifts so he’s at my side instead of my back.
“Abby?”
I nod, because I want him to know that I’m trying. I’m trying to say the thing I want to say.
“I want time,” I say because I need to say something and I can’t just agree with him. I can’t just commit to him right now and give him what he wants. Maybe a small part of me wants that, but a much larger part of me wants time.
“What do you mean you want time? Like, you don’t want to talk when we leave here?”
“I don’t know. I do, I mean. If we don’t, it’s okay, but we could—when you’re back in Pennsylvania?—”
“You think it’s fine if we leave here and don’t talk again?”
“No, no.” I set my hands on his arms, an attempt to bring his focus in. I want him to hear me, but my head feels all tangled because he’s misinterpreting what I’m saying. I can feel him slipping away from this conversation and it’s just barely started.
“Please, Miles. Just hear me, okay? I’m—it’s too soon. It’s been nine days. I can’t say yes to you right now because I want more time. I barely know you.”
“What are you talking about, Abby? You know me. You’ve known me for thirteen years.”
“I knew a version of you for two years and then for eleven of those years, you were not in my life at all. You’ve changed! I’ve changed. Yes, there are things about you that I recognize and things that I don’t.”
“You don’t think spending nearly every day together for five days is enough?”
“This place is a fantasy. A perfectly contained place where it’s easy for you and I to pretend like we could work. So what happens when we get to the real world and it all falls apart?”
“It won’t.”
I sigh, frustration creeping up from my belly, snaking its way to my chest, where it starts to spread, threading into my sternum, making my ribs feel tight. I hide my face in my hands for a second to compose myself and then meet his gaze again.
His face is pale, his shoulders tight, his pupils dilated. I shift so I’m facing him fully and take his hands in mine.
“I’m not saying no, Miles. I’m asking for you to give me the space to decide.”
“I don’t want space, Abby.” His voice trembles, and I want to save this conversation and reassure him, but he doesn’t seem to be hearing me.
“Okay, then we don’t have to have space. We can date, but I can’t commit to being your girlfriend right now.”
“I don’t want to wait, Abby. I feel like I’ve been waiting a decade.”
“And what about me? What about what I want? You talked a big game when we were having sex that what I wanted mattered, that I should use my voice, and I’m doing it now and you can’t accept that.”
He drops my hands to hide his face in his palms and runs his fingers through his hair, ducking his neck. Maybe he doesn’t want to be touched right now. I tuck my hands in my lap, squeezing my fingers together.
This was harder and easier than I thought it would be. The first words were hard, and conveying what I really want has been harder than I thought it would be, but I also feel so strongly about what I know I want that wavering from it doesn’t feel like an option.
Hazel would be really proud of me right now.
I’mreally proud of me right now.
“It does matter, Abby. Your voice matters and what you want matters. I just… I can’t lose you again.”
“You’re not losing me. I’m trying to tell you that I want to get to know you before I decide if I want to be with you forever.”
“Forever…?” He jerks his head up, eyebrows knit together.
“Miles,” I reach out again, resting my hands on his knees, “if we do this, I’m not doing it to break up with you again in a couple of years. I’m in my early thirties. I want kids. I want…I want a partner to go through life with and I’m not going to just be your girlfriend to see where things go. If I say yes to being your girlfriend, I’m saying yes to being your wife.”
“So you want to be with me, but you don’t want to commit yet?”
