His expression became serious.
"I didn't suggest one year because I believed in fate."
I frowned. "Then why?"
He looked at his hands. "I already knew... something might be wrong."
My stomach tightened.
"I didn't want your number."
That stung.
Then he explained. "If the scans were bad... if surgery..."
He stopped.
I understood. "You didn't want to start something."
He nodded.
"So the romantic 'if it's meant to happen' speech was nonsense?"
"Mostly."
I stared at him. "That was very smooth."
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment."
"I'll take it."
Don't miss
Then I became serious. "You don't get to do that again."
He frowned. "Do what?"
"Decide for someone else what truth they can handle."
He went quiet.
"I would've rather known."
"I know."
"I might've still wanted to talk to you."
"I know."
"And if I didn't, that should've been my choice."
He nodded slowly. "You're right."
That mattered.
His illness explained his decision. It didn't automatically make it a good one.
At 10:30, I finally stood to leave. Adrian walked me to the door.
Slowly.
He didn't apologize for the pace. I liked that.
I pulled out my phone. Sixty-one percent battery.
I held it up. "Look."
He smiled. "Very responsible."
"Give me your number."
He did.
I called him immediately.
His phone rang on the table.
"There."
He laughed.
