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They ate in silence for a time, getting crumbs all over his pile of worn blankets, but the quiet was nice. Comfortable. She felt warmer than she had all winter.
“Melisande,” he finally said. “The reason I like bringing you pleasure is because I care for you.”
She nodded, breaking off another piece of croissant to eat.
“It’s not just the sex. I like talking to you after. The way you lean into me. The truth is, I love you.”
She froze, blinking in shock, then struggled to swallow the tiny piece of pastry. “You don’t even know me,” she managed to say.
“I do. I know you’re afraid of mice, and honeysuckle’s your favorite flower, and you hate the taste of beer, and you broke your little finger when you were a girl and it still aches sometimes.”
Had she told him all that? She couldn’t recall. She remembered lying there with him in her room and talking in the dark, but she didn’t remember the words.
“I don’t want you to go back,” he said.
“What…what do you mean?”
“You don’t have to work there anymore. You could stay with me. I could get a bigger place.”
She heard her mother’s voice in her head, telling her to jump at the offer. She could be a whore for one man instead of hundreds. Hardly even a whore at all. She shook her head. “If I left there, what would I do?”
“Just be my girl, I guess.”
“I…I’ve only got another ten years of work left. A little more if I’m lucky. I need to save what I can or I won’t have a chance after.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Would he? For how long? Her throat felt parched. “Men leave,” she whispered. “You know that as well as I.”
“I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Bill…” She pressed a hand to his cheek and studied his eyes. He didn’t look pleading. He looked sincere. “You’ll want to get married someday. Have children. I can’t depend on you. I have to take care of myself.”
He took her hand and wrapped it in his. “We could marry.”
She tugged her hand back. “You’re insane. We can’t marry. We’d be hard pressed even to find a room to share.”
“We can marry in Kansas. Or farther north.”
He wanted to marry her? That made no sense. She felt dizzy at the idea. Confused and…terrified. “We can’t.”
“We could if you wanted. If you think you could love me back.”
This was madness. “But I’m a whore. And you’re white. And I can’t even have babies, so what would be the point?”
“The point would be that you wouldn’t have to fear me leaving.”
“That wouldn’t make a difference! No one would bat an eye at you leaving a black wife behind. Who would even care?”
“I would.”
“Bill…” What could she say to this man, who watched her so steadily as he proposed sweet, ridiculous things? Her heart beat so hard she thought it might break free from her chest and leave her for good. He loved her? She’d never imagined anyone could.
She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed slowly, trying to quiet her heart. “Maybe I love you already,” she whispered. “Just for asking. But I can’t put my life in someone else’s hands. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a girl. And you…you’ll find a wife someday. Have kids. I’ll want you to. You should have that.”
When he took her hand again, she opened her eyes. “I was married already,” he said.
She drew back in shock. “You’re married?”
