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It was the second time he had asked her to promise him something this week.This one felt harder than pretending the days that ticked away weren’t doing so.Elle wasn’t sure if it was the second or third of her promises that felt harder.The second promise empty because after Saturday, would she have the opportunity to keep it?She would be gone.As much as she wanted to keep Clayton in her life, she knew she couldn’t.After Saturday, the best thing for Clayton would be to forget Elle.It would hurt, but she would need to use her sword to sever her hold on him, allowing him to find his true “Lizzie.” That future woman would be the keeper of his heart and he, the protector of hers.

The third promise pressed hard against Elle’s chest.At work she spoke up.She commanded.She demanded.She was a “bossbitch.”The professional wants within her slipped so easily from her lips.In her personal life, they were merely phantoms of the unsaid, bitten away before being allowed to come out of her mouth.

Long before her dad’s abandonment and mother’s falling apart, Elle had been groomed to keep her wants to herself. So much of her early life was defined by “No, Eleanor,” “Quiet, Eleanor, the grownups are talking,” or “Be a good girl, Eleanor.”These messages along with so many others made up so much of who Elle became. The commands given to her at six cemented the foundation of who she was at thirty-six.

“When do you have to be at the clinic?”She bit her lower lip.

“I’m on farm rotations today and my first appointment isn’t until later.”A knowing smile etched his features.

“Could we go to Cassie’s Corner Café for breakfast?”It was a small ask but it was an ask.

There were only a few more days for these small asks with Clayton.Only a few more days to share her tiny wants, leaving the big wants unspoken. The biggest of all, “Let me keep you.Let’s stay “us.” Some wants are too big. Some asks too much.

“Yes, but first…” He kissed down the column of her throat. “…I’m hungry for something else.”

Elle giggled, tilting her head giving him greater access to his target.

THIRTY-SIX

“I have the highest respect for your nerves. They are my old friends.”

~Jane Austen,Pride and Prejudice

Misty rain clung to children in backpacks and umbrellas walking down Main Street, heading to the first day of school. Perry’s downtown buzzed with people as businesses opened for the day. From their perch in a front booth of Cassie’s Corner Café, its floor to ceiling windows overlooking Main Street, Clayton and Elle had a front row seat to the waking up of downtown.

“Hopefully they beat the attendance bell.” Clayton’s head tilted at two teenaged boys racing down the street, a little girl skipping behind them with a pink umbrella. The slightly taller boy turned to scoop up the little girl, then rushed off with her on his back.

“They’re cutting it close,”Elle said, shaking her head.

“I was never late for school. You?” Clayton asked.“Never mind.”He laughed, taking in her “Have we met?” face.

“Do you want kids?”she blurted.

“I’m open to it with the right person, but it has to be a mutual decision,” he replied, stirring his coffee before taking a sip.“You?”

“I don’t know.”She peered at the tiny pockets of sun breaking through the gray sky like beacons of hope.“Although, I suppose not knowing is an answer.”

“I suppose.” Clayton’s face was thoughtful.

“You’re open to it?”she pressed.

He nodded, as her eyes flicked from the world outside to the world sitting across from her holding a black ink spot patterned white mug in his hand as he gazed back.

“You’d be a good dad,”Elle offered.

He reached for her hand, their fingers threading together. “You’d be a good mom, if you wanted it.”

The word mom souring in her ears. How could she be a good mom? She’d had a terrible example. Elle slipped her fingers free of his, grabbing her cup of tea with a small smile.

The exterior door opened, admitting a small breeze.

“Amanda!”A newcomer had entered the café to a loud greeting from the crew of retirees in the back.

Elle’s eyes locked on her mom’s familiar frame. The bright rainbow-striped sweater she wore was a colorful vortex, drawing all gazes to her in the café’s sea of black and white décor.

“Where’s Pastor Dan?” An older woman with bluish-gray hair asked, wrapping her arms around Elle’s mom.

“He’s on his way,” Amanda said warmly, her back turned to where Elle and Clayton sat.

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