He comes in and pulls the desk chair out, positioning it in front of me and sitting down so his knees nearly touch mine. He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, and looks at me for a moment without speaking. I've known him long enough to know the silence means he's choosing his words carefully.
"How are you doing, baby?" His hands find my knees, squeezing gently. "Really?"
"I'm fine."
His expression doesn't change, but something behind his eyes does. "Adam."
I look down at my hands. They're folded in my lap, too still, the way they get when I'm working hard to keep them there. "I'm trying to be," I say.
He nods slowly, accepting that. "I need to talk to you about Elowen."
My chest tightens, but I keep my face neutral. "Okay."
Cliff is quiet for a moment, and I can see him working through it. He's not a man who stumbles over words often, but this is new territory for all of us.
"My bond with her is fresh," he finally says. "Do you know what that means?"
"I looked it up, actually." My voice comes out steadier than I expect. "Just now."
His brows raise like he’s surprised. "Then you know I need to spend time with her," he says. “Real time, tending to our bond.” His voice is so soft, like he’s worried he’ll scare me. “And this isn’t something I can put off.”
"I know." And I do know. I read it in plain medical language two minutes ago.
Bond reinforcement is essential in the first weeks post-mating. Neglect of the bond can result in deterioration of both parties' wellbeing.
“I'm not asking you to put anything off,” I say.
"I know you're not." He holds my gaze as his hands slide onto the sides of my thighs, holding me. "But I'm telling you anyway, because you deserve to hear it from me directly. Not left to yourself to figure it out when I'm not around."
Iswallow.
That's the thing about Cliff. He’s so kind and tender, but he’s also very direct. It’s a quality I usually love.
"It's okay," I say.
“I know it’s not,” he says gently. “At least not yet. But it will be.”
I hate that my eyes sting. I blink the sensation back hard and look at the pill bottle on my desk because it gives me somewhere to put my eyes that isn't his face.
"I don't want to make this harder than it already is," I say quietly. "That's not—I'm not trying to do that. I know she didn't ask for any of this, and I know you didn't either, and I know the bond is real and it's going to need what it needs." My throat tightens, but I push through it. "I need a little time to get my head around it. That's all."
Cliff is quiet.
Then he stands, sets the chair back at the desk, and crosses to where I'm sitting on the bed. He crouches down in front of me so we're eye level, and he puts one hand on the side of my face. His thumb brushes my cheekbone. His dark eyes are steady and close and so familiar that the sting behind mine gets worse.
"I love you more than you could ever know," he whispers.
I press my lips together.
"Take your meds," he says. "Get some rest."
He kisses my forehead. Holds it there for a second. Then he straightens up and walks out, pulling the door almost closed behind him.
I sit in the quiet for a long time after that.
The ache is still there. It hasn't moved. But underneath it, something is trying its hardest to settle, and I let it. I don't know what else to do.
I reach over and pick up the Verenthicin bottle, give it one more rattle.
