The answer thinned at the edges.
His throat moved.
“I need you to want me there without using that want to trap me.”
Pain spread through my chest.
“I want you there so much I can barely think around it.”
He looked up.
“But staying has to remain your choice,” I said. “Every day. Every hour, if that is what you need.”
Silence filled the room.
Noah’s eyelids lowered.
“Tomorrow.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I leave tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
He did not call the apartment home.
I did not ask him to.
“Try to sleep,” I said.
His right hand moved across the bed.
I took it.
He closed his eye.
“Will you come early?”
“Before breakfast.”
“Bring coffee.”
“Of course.”
“And the gray sweater.”
“The soft one?”
“Yes.”
“You used to hate that sweater.”
“I like it now.”
“Then it belongs to you.”
His mouth curved.
