15

I let her go and she staggers a little, as if she’s been floating on air and her feet are finally touching the ground. It’s where she’s supposed to always be—on the ground—not in the clouds she sometimes ascends to. But even though I’m not touching her anymore, she’s still touching a part of me. My jacket is held snugly to her chest as if it’s some sort of armor—one she won’t let go of. And I need to stop thinking about what that jacket is touching, because that’s just fucked up. “It’s not that I want to marry you.” A swallow, a clink of nails, a slight jump in her shoulders. I’ve always hated how expressive she is but that she can still hide more than she shows. “Then why did you say that to Susan? Oh, was it a lie? A smokescreen to scare her away?” “It was to scare her away and it is a smokescreen in a way, but it’s not a lie.” “I…don’t understand.” “I meant what I said. We need the joint property for the house and the shares since you now control them, and you have to give me power