I thought back over the past two months, at the limits to which we’d been pushed, individually and as a couple-at how much I’d come to see her as an integral part of my life.
But apparently those were my feelings alone, and since we’d never made any overt commitments to each other when we could-determinedly living apart and maintaining our “freedom”-I now felt the swelling grief of an opportunity lost forever, sacrificed to selfish notions of independence.
I nodded quietly, suppressing this private turmoil. “Makes sense.”
She reached over and took my hand. I felt a hesitancy on her part, and braced myself for the inevitable. “You may not think so in a minute, and maybe this isn’t the best time to hit you with this… ” She paused, searching for the right words.
I squeezed her fingers, spurred on by a sudden impatience. “Go ahead. We can sort it out afterward.”
She chuckled, throwing me off guard. “Okay. What do you say we move in together? Get a place of our own?”
I stared at her openmouthed.
She spoke quickly, as if trying to outrun my anticipated rejection. “I’m not talking about marriage, and I’d have to have my own space-a study or a couple of rooms-so we’d both still have lots of breathing room, like before… I realize it would mean giving up your apartment… ” Her voice trailed off.
I laid my head back on the pillow, slightly giddy at this emotional turnabout.
Gail watched me closely. “Would you be interested?” Her face was a mixture of hopefulness and doubt.
I smiled at her, sharing her feelings, willing to put my trust in the former. “Yes. I would.”