A laugh escapes me.
Small.
Broken around the edges.
“Yes,” I say.
“We’re both good at excuses.”
“Professionally trained.”
“Exactly.”
His voice drops again.
“I think we’d have kept saying it was temporary.”
My throat tightens.
Temporary.
That bloody word.
The safety net of people too cowardly to call things by their proper names.
“And?” I ask.
A pause.
Long enough that I hear him breathe in before answering.
“And I think it would’ve stopped feeling temporary very quickly.”
I swallow hard.
The office is too warm.
Or I am.
One of the two.
I loosen my tie with my free hand.
“And then?”
Mark gives a quiet huff.
“You really want me to keep digging?”
“I asked.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Mark.”
He is silent for another second.
“And then I think I’d have wanted you to stay.”
