“I think if we start adding extra hours, we’ll just keep adding them.”
There it is.
The truer answer.
I lock eyes with him.
He looks tired suddenly.
Notphysically.
Emotionally.
Like he is holding something shut with both hands.
I understand that feeling better than I’d like.
Still doesn’t stop me wishing he’d say sod it and stay.
“I wish we had longer,” he says quietly.
The honesty of it hits clean.
I hold his gaze.
“So do I.”
Silence settles.
Thick enough that even the sea outside feels distant.
I force myself to speak before I do something stupid like ask him to stay anyway.
“We can keep in touch.”
Philip closes his eyes briefly.
When he opens them again, there is apology there before he even speaks.
“Mark…”
“It’s just messages.”
He gives a soft exhale.
“That’s the problem.”
I frown.
“I’m not good at in-between things,” he says quietly. “Things that don’t know what they are.”
I say nothing.
Because I already know where this is going and I hate it.
Philip glances down the hall, then back at me.
“If I keep talking to you from Toronto, and you’re here, and this weekend is... hovering in the middle of everything, I won’t know where to put it.”
