“No.”
The word struck the room with the force of a slammed door.
“Never.”
I held his gaze.
“Not for one second,” he said. “Not on the worst day. Not if you never remember me. Not if you decide to leave.”
The intensity in his voice made my chest ache.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you lost everything too.”
“I lost the life we expected.”
Anger burned through the control in his face.
“I did not lose you.”
“You might.”
“No.”
The certainty startled me.
He leaned closer.
“You may decide you do not want me as your partner. You may choose another home, another job, another man. That would hurt more than I can explain.”
His voice dropped.
“But you would still exist. You would still laugh and work and argue. You would continue feeding dogs things that shorten their lives. I would rather live in a world where you do not choose me than in one where you died.”
My eye burned.
I looked away.
“I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You can ask me anything.”
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“At the question.”
“At the suggestion that your survival could be a burden.”
He drew in a breath and softened.
“I’m sorry I raised my voice.”
“You didn’t frighten me.”
