He looked at me as though the sound had surprised him.
Two months later, Harrison offered to pay off my mother’s medical debt.
I refused.
He offered again.
I refused more loudly.
The third time, I stood from the restaurant table and told him that if he wanted someone grateful enough to obey him, he should hire an assistant.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he apologized.
Not the kind of apology powerful men give when they are waiting for a woman to calm down.
A real one.
“I don’t know how to care without fixing,” he admitted.
“I don’t need you to fix me.”
“What do you need?”
I looked down at my hands.
“I need someone who doesn’t disappear when fixing me becomes inconvenient.”
He reached across the table but did not touch me until I placed my hand in his.
Three weeks later, Harrison proposed.
