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"What is it?"
"Are you wearing your perfume?"
"Yes," I say and touch my neck.
"Please stop. It’s penetrated everything and I can’t get away from it even if I try."
I lift my pillow and the soft cotton pillowcase is infused with it.
"It's the sheets."
He nods and glances away, his gaze on the far windows.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you hate it. Michel liked it and I wear it because it reminds me of him."
"No, no," he said finally. "It’s just a constant reminder, that’s all."
He exhales. "How have you been?” he says. “I haven’t seen you all week.”
I shrug my shoulder.
“I’m fine. I’ve been busy at the SCU.”
He reaches out and touches my cheek, and I know he’s trying to read me.
“You miss me,” he says, his voice soft. “That’s a start. You feel regret."
My cheeks heat that he knows how I feel.
"I feel a lot of things. Sadness. Loneliness." I sigh. "Self-respect – not much, but enough."
"What does self-respect have to do with it?" He sounds so frustrated. "If you want something bad enough, you do what it takes to get it."
I shake my head. "Even if I crawled on my hands and knees, I still wouldn't get what I want so why bother? Why humiliate myself?"
"Why would it humiliate you? What would you think of me if I crawled on my hands and knees to you, asking for your forgiveness so that you and I could be together?" He says nothing for a moment. "It would be a big turn-on. Admit it."
I hold my hand to my forehead. "You really don't understand, do you?"
"I understand that you caused a hell of a mess because you were jealous of Kate – Kate! Poor little junkie Kate who's dying, for Christ’s sake. You foolishly gave me an ultimatum saying that it had to be your way or no way. I think crawling on your hands and knees and admitting you regret it would be nothing more than righting a wrong and proving how you felt."
"I don't want to just,” I say. “Have sex with you. It's not enough."
"Do you want to have sex with me?"
I close my eyes in frustration.
"Answer me."
"Of course. But that's not all I want."
"I can't give you what you think you want." He takes my hand. "Why can't you want what I can give?"
"I need more." I squeeze his hand back. "You're the most," I stop, my throat constricting.
"What?"
"You're so," I say, still unable to say it, express it. "I feel so-." He waits. I close my eyes. "I forget everything when I'm with you. Everything. It's just so . . . powerful. You're so powerful." I search for words. "There's so much inside of you. So much more than I ever thought possible." I pull my hand away and cover my eyes, my cheeks burning. "I'm sorry – but for me? With you? It's all or nothing."
