"And if you lose him anyway?"

He looked at me then, really looked at me. "Then I lose him. But I'm not ready to think about that yet."

I wrapped both hands around my mug and looked out the window. The city was grey and quiet and beautiful in that bleak winter way.

"I'm not asking you to define this," I said carefully. "I'm not asking for labels or timelines. I just need to know that when I drive away today, this doesn't—" I stopped. Started again. "I need to know I'm coming back."

"You're coming back." No hesitation.

"And you'll still want me to?"

He made a sound low...