Maya looked at the IV taped to her arm. “People say that when they’re scared.”
“Then I’m scared.” His voice roughened. “I’m terrified. Is that what you need me to admit? Fine. I’m terrified.”
The honesty of it pinned her.
He went on, slower now. “I don’t know exactly when this stopped being a contract for me. Maybe that first morning you drank terrible coffee in my kitchen and told me my apartment looked like a luxury hotel for ghosts. Maybe when I realized you never asked me for anything. Maybe tonight, in that ballroom, when I heard those women talk about you and wanted to burn the room down.” He shook his head once. “Maybe it’s all of it. I don’t know. But I know I can’t sit in that chair and wait for you to pretend this doesn’t matter.”
