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We doze together for about thirty more minutes. Then it feels like his eyes are open, so I tilt my head up to check.
They are. There’s a fond, leisurely smile in his eyes but not on his lips as he looks at me.
He’s happy like I am. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to commit to this.
I’m not expecting marriage and babies and a lifetime of domestic bliss. We’ve only been together a month. But surely it wouldn’t be out of the question to acknowledge we’re in a real relationship.
“Earlier I was looking at what’s left to do in the library,” I say, light and casual so he doesn’t think I’m bringing this up for a significant reason.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking there’s maybe three more months of work to do. I’m more than halfway done.”
“That’s great.”
“I’m not sure what I’ll do when I’m done.”
He shifts slightly, trying to see me better. “What do you mean?”
“I mean when the library is completed, I’ll need to find another job. I’ll have to... I don’t know... move... or something.” I intended the topic to be easy and natural, but I’m stumbling over words, making it awkward.
He’s frowning with his mouth and his eyebrows. “With your experience, I’m sure you’ll be able to find something. Or I can find you another project around here if you’d rather.”
It’s a kind thought, but it isn’t what I was hoping to hear right now. Surely he knows I was hinting around.
“Are you upset about it?” he asks, cupping my face with his big, warm hand.
I bite my bottom lip. Shake my head and then realize the gesture is a lie. “I’m not really upset. But I don’t do well without knowing... without being sure of things. And everything feels so up in the air. It’s hard to plan for the future.”
He stays still for several seconds, obviously thinking through what I’ve said. Then his face twists—like he has something to say—but he reins in whatever strong feeling is prompting it. Says in his gentlest voice, “I know your future is up in the air. I want to help with that as much as you’ll allow me. But in terms of us... if part of the uncertainty you’re referring to is about that, I’d rather...” He seems to get choked. Has to clear his voice.
“You’d rather what, Arthur?” It feels like I’m holding my breath. Like I’m frozen in bleak anticipation. Like everything is about to change. Like all my dreams are in the balance.
But also like I already know what’s about to happen.
“I’d rather we keep things as they are, taking it day by day.”
The room and Arthur’s face darken before my eyes before they materialize again, sharper and colder than before. My mouth is too dry. I try to moisten it with my tongue. “Okay.”
I want to scream at him. Pound on his chest. Demand he tell me why he’s still holding back, still won’t commit.
But there’s only one real answer.
He must not love me enough.
“I know it feels like we could be more than this,” he goes on, hoarse and faintly stretched. He’s not quite meeting my eyes. “But it’s very important to me that there not be any pressure. You’ve been through a lot. You’re still recovering—not just from losing your dad but from what happened before it and from being in that accident. You have your whole life ahead of you, and you’ve never really had the chance to live it. I don’t want you to be cornered into a relationship with me.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. It gives me an unexpected flicker of hope. “I don’t feel cornered. I’ve never felt that way.”
“Good. I’m trying very hard not to do that to you. I need you to be free—to live exactly the life you want.”
It’s so hard to admit it out loud, but I make myself say it. “But I want... I wantthis. What we have.”
His face tightens in something resembling a wince. “And you can have it. For as long as you want.”
I stare at him, trying to understand what he’s telling me, what’s motivating it. “Don’t you want—?” My voice breaks. I have to start again. “Don’t you want something too?”
“I want what we have, and I want you to be free. That’s what I want, Scarlett.”
