Page 161 of What We Break
"When would it start?"
"Six weeks. I have to decide within a week."
His jaw tightens. "A week."
"I know it's fast?—"
"It's not about the timing." He pushes off from the counter, moves toward the window. Looks out at the parking lot like it's suddenlyfascinating. "This is what you've been trained for. This is the chance to make the kind of impact you've always wanted."
"Reid, I haven't even decided if I'm interested."
"You're interested." He says it without turning around. "I watched you on that call. You lit up."
Did I? I don't remember. I was too busy watching him shut down.
"Being interested doesn't mean I want to go."
"Doesn't it?"
"No." I cross the kitchen toward him. "It doesn't. I can be interested in the project and still choose something else."
He turns around. His expression is strange—too calm, too composed.
"You shouldn't have to choose. That's the point." He takes a breath. "Four months ago, you didn't know I existed. You've spent your entire career preparing for an opportunity like this."
"So?"
"So don't throw that away because we're good together."
Good together.He told me he loved me three weeks ago. I said it back. I meant it.
Did he?
"Is that what you think this is? Justgood?"
"That's not what I meant?—"
"Then what did you mean?"
"I meant—" He stops. Runs his hand through his hair. Starts again. "I don't want to be the reason you stay in one place. I don't want what we have to become a cage."
A cage. This morning I was feeding him French toast off my fork. He was kissing my neck. I was thinking about dragging him back to bed and staying there all day.
And he's calling it a cage.
"You, stuck here because you're afraid to leave. Me, wondering if you're staying because you want to or because you feel like you have to." He's looking at me now, really looking, and there's something raw underneath the calm. "That's not love, Laine. That's settling."
Settling.The word hits like a slap.
"I'm not settling."
"Aren't you?" His voice cracks, just slightly. "You came here to build a permanent life, and the first real test is a phone call that has you shaking."
"I'm not shaking because I want to leave." My voice is rising now. I can't help it. "I'm shaking because I don't know what I want, and you're standing there acting like you've already made the decision for me."
"I'm not?—"
"You are. You're literally telling me to go."
