I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted it badly enough that I had to remind myself to breathe.
But I also knew she was hurt, angry, and exhausted.
I stood up abruptly.
“I should make coffee.”
She looked away.
“Of course.”
I walked to the counter and switched on the machine.
Behind me, she said, “I’m sorry.”
I turned.
“For what?”
“For almost making a decision because I needed to feel wanted.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe you wanted to kiss me because you wanted to kiss me.”
She went still.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then I added, “But I don’t want to be the person you reach for just because Michael made you feel unwanted.”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
“And I don’t want you waking up tomorrow wondering whether you made a mistake.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“That’s fair too.”
