Saul stares at me. Processing.
I watch the shift happen. Marshal Saul analyzing the threat. Boyfriend Saul realizing what I just said.
“You had a phrase,” he says slowly. “With him. A thing you said to each other.”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay.” He looks at the note again. “That’s what you said to each other. That’s how you.” He stops. Sets the note down very carefully. “How you showed you cared.”
The fear in his eyes becomes something else. Something that looks like breaking.
I nod.
“I left here this morning.” His voice is quiet now. “Three hours ago. We were in bed. You kissed me goodbye. And now you’re falling apart over three words from a man I’ve spent six weeks keeping you safe from.”
“Saul.”
“Do you know what the last six weeks have been like?” He’s not yelling. That’s almost worse. “Watching you grieve them. Watching you sleep in his shirt. Keep his mug in your kitchen. Refuse to make certain recipes because they remind you of them.” His voice cracks. “And I told myself it was okay. That you’d heal. That what we were building would be enough.”
“It is enough. You…”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “Don’t tell me I’m enough when you’re standing here crying over chocolates from someone else.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He gestures at the scattered chocolates. At the evidence of my breakdown. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like one gesture from him undoes everything we’ve built. Like I’m the consolation prize. The safe option you settled for.”
“You’re not a consolation prize.”
“Then what am I, Stevie?” His voice rises. I’ve never heard him yell. Not once. “What am I to you? Because I thought what we had was real. I thought you loved me. But maybe I was just convenient. The guy who was there when they weren’t.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell me the truth!” He’s in my space now. Close. Vibrating with emotion he can’t contain. “Tell me what I am to you. Because I need to know if I’m wasting my time.”
“You’re the man I’m in love with!” The words come out sharp. Desperate. “You’re the person I wake up next to and want to keep waking up next to. You’re the one who makes me feel like maybe I’m not completely broken.”
“I’m not enough.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Can’t find a truth that works.
His face does something terrible. Anger and hurt all mixed together.
“I knew that,” he says quietly. “I’ve always known that. But I thought maybe if I gave you enough time, enough space, enough.” He stops. “I thought I could make you forget them. That eventually what we had would be enough to fill whatever they left empty.”
“I don’t want to forget them.”
The silence is crushing.
He nods. Once. Sharp. Like I’ve confirmed something he didn’t want to be true.
“I need space,” he says finally. “I need to think. I need to figure out if I can actually live with this.” He moves toward the door.
“Saul, please.”
“But first.” He stops. Takes a breath. When he turns back, his face has shifted. Marshal mode sliding back into place. “Pack a bag. You’re not staying here tonight.”
“What?”
