Page 100 of Connectio

Turning on my heel, I storm off, not knowing where I’m going. The only public places a hospital has is a gift shop and café, and I need neither so steer myself outside, warm summer air spiralling around me and sweeping my hair off my shoulders as I head down the steps.

“Elizabeth, where are you going?”

“To wait in my car.”

He follows, and when I click my key fob to unlock the doors, he gets in and takes a seat. I’m reluctant, but I do the same, and we sit in silence for a moment before he drums a beat on my dashboard.

I cover my face with my hands and grumble. “Argh! You’re so frustrating.”

“Pot calling kettle black.”

I give him an “oh really?” look, but he ignores it. “Why do you desperately want everyone to know we’re a couple? What is it to anyone but us?”

“It’s everything, sweetheart.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is. It makes us accountable.”

He’s right. I know he is. And I feel stupid for fighting it. But I don’t have a choice, at least for now.

Turning to face him, I drop my hands to my lap.

He doesn’t look my way, instead keeps drumming his fingers on the dash. “Why do you desperately want to keep us a secret?”

“I don’t,” I choke out.

“Doesn’t seem that way, Lib. Seems like you’re ashamed, or scared, or… I don’t fuckin’ know.”

The corners of my mouth rise a little at hearing him call me Lib. So casual. So comfortable. He’s always said Elizabeth or sweetheart, or Labia.

Reaching out, I hold his hands still. “We can’t make us official until you know the real me.”

His eyes finally meet mine. “The real you? What are you talking about?”

“There’s so much you don’t know about me. Stuff you may not like, and stuff I don’t want you to know, because it might scare you away.”

“What do you mean ‘scare me away’? Nothing about you will scare me away.”

“You don’t know that, and that’s why I don’t want to change what we’ve got going on right now.”

He lifts his hand to the nape of his neck and narrows his eyes at me. “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to move forward, and you don’t want to go back.”

“Yes. No.” I huff. “Kinda.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Will throws his body against the seat and scrubs his face with his hands.

“No, it’s not. It’s logical.”

“Fuck logical, Elizabeth.”

“Will, please—”

“Tell me what you’re hiding.”

“I… I can’t,” I plead. “Not yet. Please just give me more time.”

Drawing in a deep breath through his nostrils, he then puffs it out, opens the passenger side door, and gets out.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to work.”

“Will!”

“Call me when you want to show me the ‘real’ you. I’ll be waiting and ready.”

He closes the door and walks away, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his hair. My shoulders slump, and tears pool in my eyes. And for the first time in a very long time, I hate the cards I’ve been dealt.

Damn it!