For some reason, that question hurt more than anything else.
Because I realized I had answered it for him for years.
Where will the rent come from?
Claire will figure it out.
Who will buy groceries?
Claire.
Who will remember the bill?
Claire.
Who will clean up?
Claire.
Who will make everything okay?
Claire.
But there was finally a new answer.
“I don’t know.”
He looked at me like I had slapped him.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t know.”
“You’re seriously going to leave me hanging?”
“No, Marcus.”
My voice stayed quiet.
“I’m going to stop holding you up.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then his expression changed.
The anger disappeared.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
“Claire.”
I hated how quickly my heart reacted to my name in his voice.
“We can fix this.”
I shook my head.
“I’ll do more around here.”
“This isn’t about dishes.”
“I’ll start paying half.”
“You’ve promised that before.”
“This contract changes everything.”
“No. That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“Your next opportunity was always supposed to change everything.”
He stared at me.
I continued.
“First it was the documentary.”
“That fell through.”
“Then the Dallas production company.”
“They hired somebody internally.”
“Then the festival.”
“You know what happened.”
“Then the real estate videos. Then the music label. Then the wedding company. Then the short film.”
“Why are you listing every failure I’ve ever had?”
“I’m not.”
My voice cracked for the first time.
“I’m listing every finish line you told me to wait for.”
Marcus went silent.
“There was always one more thing,” I said. “One more project. One more client. One more year before we could talk about marriage or buying a house or having children.”
“Children?”
“Yes, Marcus.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“We said we’d talk about that when things were stable.”
“I’m thirty-four.”
“We still have time.”
“You have time.”
That stopped him.
My eyes filled with tears.
“I’ve built my entire adult life around your timeline.”
