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“That’s not fair to you.”
“You think I care about fair? You ruined me for any other women. Does that seem fair to you?” He put his hands to the edge of the bar and vaulted on to the stage. She stepped behind the pole, putting it between them. “Besides, I won’t have to wait long.”
“You’re on my stage.”
All over her life if she wanted that. God, let her want it. “Yeah, and you’re on mine.” Even without her, his life would be different because of her.
“I’m not trying to compete with you. I’m trying to succeed for me.”
“A decent venue has more than one spotlight. When you turn this place into the new Lucky’s maybe you can factor that in.”
She stepped back from the pole. “You’re angry I didn’t tell you.”
He stayed at the edge of the light. “Not angry, sad. It’s amazing. But I get why you wanted to keep it to yourself.”
Her head dropped forward. “I’m not even sure I get that.”
It’d been the easiest part of all this to understand. “It’s not finished. Whatever you’re dreaming isn’t straight in your head.”
She walked around the pole and into the spotlight. She was close enough now he could see surprise in her eyes. He pressed his advantage. “You’re in your corner working it out and I can’t help you until you know what you need to do.”
She shook her head but took another step closer.
“That’s what Costin taught you. That’s what you’re doing now, taking your time alone, working things out. So that’s what I’m doing, waiting for you to know what you need, so you can need it from me.”
Another headshake and another step toward him. “You’re too much.” Her voice shook.
“I know.”
She put her hand to her head and pulled the pencil out of her hair. It fell around her shoulders and down her back. “I’m your love hack, you don’t need me.”
“You’re my life hack, Zarley, the best, the last I’ll ever need.”
She reached behind her for the pole. “I can’t marry you.”
“Yet, you can’t marry me yet, and if you say ever,” he put his hand to the middle of his chest. “You remember that enlarged heart I told you about, you’ll have to scrape it off the ceiling before you reopen.”
“What if I fail?” Her back hit the pole.
“You’re already golden.”
Her breath was coming in fast, swelling her ribs. “I knew you were trouble when I first saw you.”
“Do you want me to go?” He’d be down on the carpet, face in the packet soup of fibers and alcohol all the way to the door.
“I might.”
I might kept him standing. I might was an open door, a sunbeam. “You call this shot, Flygirl. I’m good at waiting. I waited for you a long time. I can do it again.”
“But I’m not good at waiting. Never was.”
“So we’re at an impasse. I’m good at waiting and you’re not. I don’t want a half-life without you and you don’t want one with me.”
All the ironed-in starch of Zarley’s body chose that moment to soften. She slumped against the pole and as if the stage was in sympathy with her, the spotlight flickered.
He took two steps toward her. “If that was an algorithm, those things would cancel each other ou
t.”
