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"What can I do to help you feel better?" she asked, her thumbs brushing my cheeks. "We don't have any costumes here, otherwise I would've greeted you with something silly like a maid or kinky kitten."

I chuckled and brought her hands to my lips to kiss her knuckles. "You're already a kinky kitten."

"Hmm. True." Her smile broadened and her bright green eyes twinkled with mischief.

I wanted nothing more than to slide on top of her and turn her into a writhing, whimpering delicious mess. To drown myself in those moments with her soothed me almost as much as it did her.

"You're so quiet." She clammed up when she said it, and worry replaced her playfulness in a beat. "Something is wrong when you're quiet." The anxiety raced up her, and she curled her hands to rest at the center of my chest.

"It's okay, honey. I would like to talk to you about something, though." I stroked her legs and she gulped. Her floppy joggers shifted about under my palms while I struggled to piece together what I wanted to say. "Can you tell me why you submitted your paperwork back to Wilkinson without telling me, Nor? I understand it's your decision, I do. I want to be able to support you in things."

Immediately, her playfulness dimmed, and she toyed with my hair. Her gaze dropped to the collar of my shirt. I gave her the time she needed to respond.

"Because…" she began, her eyes welling up immediately. "I can't just…stay home all the time worrying and anxious. I worry about you, about work, about money, about losing a career I've spent over a decade building. I have to…just try."

I drew in a slow breath, then stroked her arms from wrist to elbow. "Are you doing it for you or for me?"

"For me…"

"You don't sound sure, Nor. At all."

"At least if I'm at work, I can be closer to you… Know what you're doing and—"

"Nora, I'm going to stop you right there." I took her hands in mine again. "You can't make this decision because you're worried about me—"

"I have to try, Caroline." Her hands shook as she tried to restrain her emotions. "I have to try." She pressed her palm to the center of my chest. "It's my decision." Despite the fire that ignited in her, tears streamed her cheeks. "It's my decision."

"I know it is. Can you look at me, Nora?" I drew in a slow breath, as always, holding myself steady for her. When her gaze met mine, I continued, "I respect that this is your decision, and I will honor it. What I hoped was that you would talk to me about it. That we could talk about it together."

"I don't want to talk about it." She sniffled, her chin quivering as she stood up. "I don't."

"Okay." I held my hands up in surrender. "Tell me why."

"No." She folded her arms and paced the carpet on the other side of the coffee table. Tears continued to stream her cheeks, and her anger, untethered in a way I hadn't seen in a very long time, controlled her movements.

"Why not?" I remained seated and allowed her space to freak out in whatever way she needed at that moment.

"Because I don't want to hear your opinion. I don't want to hear what you'll say to me about it," she choked out, her chest heaving with her intensifying tears. "I don't want to hear about it."

"Okay," was all I said, gesturing between us. "You're in charge here, Nora. I'm listening."

"Fine," she said, her pacing intensifying despite her calmer statement. "Fine."

We both fell into silence. A thick, pregnant quiet that spoke more than any words could. I forced myself to remain still, but the lack of words came much easier.

"Say something," she demanded, stomping her foot when she swung around to face me again.

Cracks of memory overwhelmed me, thrusting me back to the last time she screamed those words in my face.

"If I say something, I risk upsetting you more," I said, simply, but in an effort to avoid the continued silence.

"I'm already upset." She dropped her hands down harshly against her legs.

"I can see that, honey. Thing is, we're not having an argument." I gestured between the two of us. "I don't know why you're upset, but I'm hoping you'll tell me."

"Because!" She flopped her hands in frustration and turned on me. "You don't say anything. I don't like when you're quiet. I don't."

"Okay." I stood up then, still moving deliberately with care as to not freak her out further. "I won't be quiet, but I'm not going to argue with you either. You and I aren't having an argument right now, Nora. You're having an argument with yourself."