“I just need…comfort.”
“Okay. I get that. Why can’t I comfort you?”
“Because…”
But he didn’t finish, and I waited. “Cel?”
Pushing his plate away, he folded his arms and put his head down so I couldn’t see his face. I thought he’d lift up after a moment, but he just continued to shiver.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.”
“Why are you shaking?”
“Because I’m scared, and I don’t want to screw up, and…I’m illogically pissed at Senan for dying and making me feel things about him, like sorry he’s dead, and not being able to be myself with you because I’m all needy, and I just—I can’t fuck this up because then everything is shit and I don’t wanna be alone again like before.”
He was rambling. He’d taken no breaths in his explanation, and I was starting to worry.
“I don’t want to lose what I have.”
“Why would you ever be alone or lose—could you please lift your head and look at me?”
“Fuck no.”
“Fuck no? Not just no, but fuck no?”
“Do not try and make me laugh. This is not the time for laughing.”
“Oh, I think this is the best time for laughing.”
His head jerked up, and the tears spilled over, running down his cheeks before he took a deep breath and wiped them roughly away. “Why do I not have more wine?”
“Since when can’t you be yourself with me?”
“Can we just drink and eat?”
“You know we can’t,” I said flatly. “That’s not us.”
“But just this once, could we—”
“What do you want?” I asked him.
“To sit here and eat and—”
“No, Cel.” I was adamant, my voice low. “What do youwant?”
“I don’t want to be browbeaten and—”
“What do you want?” I pressed him gently.
“I’m certainly not going to be bullied or—”
“What do you want?” I asked again.