Page 79 of A Million Times, Yes

“Oh.” My hand went to my chest when I felt a pang rumble through.

“The ones where he runs his heart out and you aren’t there. The ones where he returns home, and he’s slapped with the quietness and thoughts of you. The ones where he’s desperate to hear your voice and feel your presence and you’re not there.” Her hands flattened in her lap. “They say a man’s real intentions show when he watches his future wife walk down the aisle. I disagree. I think it shows during the hardest periods of their relationship and how he chooses to act and present himself.” She pushed her glasses back up. “Our minds are our worst enemy, Maya. And I know what Jordan’s mind has been doing to him.”

“Has he told you?”

“He doesn’t need to. I see it.”

The darkness under his eyes that the frames of his glasses couldn’t hide, showing he wasn’t getting much sleep. On his way out, when I’d asked him about his running, and he’d mentioned he was up to eight miles a morning—three more miles than he normally ran.

“I don’t know what to do, Bettie.”

Her hand lifted again. This time, it clasped mine. “You will.”

Jordan:You’re a few hours post-run. How’s the body feeling today?

Me:Tight.

Jordan:Maya, you’re fucking killing me ...

Me:Lol. But it is! Did you get in eight miles this morning?

Jordan:Nine.

Me:Nine? What time did you start?

Jordan:4:30

Me:Were you up extra early, or you just didn’t go to bed?

Jordan:A little of both.

Me:If it makes you feel better, I was too.

Jordan:What’s eating at you?

Me:You mean, aside from you? Lol. My mom ... she’s jobless again. When that happens, a lot falls on my shoulders. I’m used to carrying half of her weight, but when she’s unemployed, I seem to carry it all.

Jordan:Do you want to talk about it?

Me:I just did. Thank you.

“Let’s talk dinner,” Emily said as she stood in front of the nurses’ station where I was sitting, stretching her arms across until her hands were on my wrists. “I’m starving and I can’t stop thinking about food.”

“We have another”—I glanced at the time on the computer screen—“three hours until we’re out of here.”

“Talking about dinner will help me get through it.” She sighed.

“There’s a ton of leftover Thai in the fridge at home. There’s even some in the fridge here that I couldn’t finish. Help yourself to it.”

Emily squeezed me. “That was sweet, by the way.”

“To offer you my food?”

“For Jordan to bring it.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me. The man is trying. Hard.”