Page 49 of Glass Half Full
“I spent three years doing something just because I thought I should, and they were the worst three years of my life,” she confesses. “They nearly took everything from me. I’m just starting to get myself back, and maybe there’s a whole lot of reasons why we should let this go, why we should forget anything ever happened between us, but I don’t think I can put myself through that again. Maybe we only get a rear-view mirror for this. Maybe we can’t see the crash yet, but I don’t want to stop the car.”
I hold her as tight as I can, like maybe if I keep her here long enough, she’ll melt right into me and feel just what it does to me to hear her repeat those words I spoke so many years ago.
“I really don’t want to let go of you,” I murmur into her hair.
“So don’t.” She tilts her head back to look at me. “Don’t let go of me.”
She’s talking about more than my arms around her.
“How?”
I don’t ask it defensively; I ask with a genuine urge to know. How do we make this work?
She strokes my cheek and says, “Let’s walk and talk.”
We’re only a block away from Square Saint-Louis now, and we head toward the park. It’s more of a fountain lined with trees than an actual park, but the brilliant red and orange leaves clinging to the branches and scattering over the ground have turned it into an autumn landscape worthy of a painting.
“I’ve thought about how we could make this work,” Renee begins, “and what I’ve decided is that we should take it slow. As much as I want to, it would be stupid to just jump into this when I’ve only reached a turning point sometime in the past few weeks. I should get to know you better first. I need to know myself better first too. Plus, as far as our jobs go, it would look a lot better if we ended up together after a couple months instead of a couple weeks, right?”
“Makes sense.” The leaves crunch under my feet as we enter the square. “You really have thought about this, haven’t you?”
I almost sound smug, but really I’m just incredibly flattered. She’s thought about me this much. She’s imagined a future for us the same way I have.
“On Saturday night, it really just...hit me,” she explains. “I’m so done with the way things have been for me. I’ve got a lot of work to do, but for the first time, I feel ready for it. I’m ready to fight, and if I’m already fighting for myself, I might as well fight for you too, right?”
I bump her shoulder with mine. “Little lioness.”
She throws her head back and laughs.
“What? Bad nickname?”
“It’s just that’s what my dad always calls me:ma petite lionne.”
“Okay, that’s weird. I’m not calling you what your dad calls you.”
She laughs again. “It’s not that weird. You say it in different languages.”
“Nope. Still too weird.”
Now she’s bumping into my shoulder. “Whatever, weirdo.”
I want to reach for her hand, but I don’t know if that’s on the table.
“So what does taking it slow mean? What are we aiming for here?”
“Well...” She starts kicking up leaves as we walk, sending arcs of colour into the air in front of our feet. “What if we do some more walking and talking for a few weeks and see how that goes? Coffee can be part of it too, unless you think that’s too dangerous.”
“I’m really going to regret telling you that story, aren’t I?”
She shrugs. “Probably.”
“Walking and talking. I can get on board with that. And at the bar...?”
“At the bar we keep it professional.”
“Because we’ve already been so good at that,” I joke, and she swats my arm. “But I agree. I don’t think anyone there should know about our...walking and talking.”
We pause in front of a bench by the fountain, and Renee gestures for me to sit down with her.
