George sat down across from me and gave me a quick look over. “It’s been a long damn time since you came in here for advice.”

“Who says I’m here for advice?”

“We’re empty.” He waved his hands toward the vacant seats. “It’s three o’ clock. Too early for dinner, and too late for lunch. You’re here to talk.”

It aggravated me that he knew me that well. “No, I came in for something to eat.”

He rubbed his hands together. “What’ll you have? Pancakes? The Abby? Your other favorite? Apples and grilled cheese?”

“I’m not hungry,” I admitted. “You’re right. I wanted to talk.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s perfect.” My shoulders slumped. “That’s the problem.”

His eyes narrowed. “Perfect is a problem?”

“I don’t feel like I deserve this. I worry that it’s all going to come crashing down. That he’s going to leave me. That it’s too good to be true. He’s too good to be true. This entire thing is too good to be true. That there’s no way this can last. That--”

“Take a breath” He reached across the table and cupped my hand in his. “In through the nose, and out through the mouth. You’re going to hyperventilate if you’re not careful.”

“I get worked up when he’s gone,” I said. “I don’t know what the problem is. It’s like I can’t function without him.”

He squeezed my hand and smiled. “Solution sounds simple to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spend more time together,” he said.

We saw each other every day. I didn’t want to smother him and give him a reason to reject me. But. When he was gone, my mind went fifty different directions, developing possibilities of what might happen to prevent him from ever returning. Everything from changing his mind about being in a relationship to wrecking his motorcycle. I remained stuck in my pattern of worrying until he returned.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, because I did. When he was away, I simply couldn’t believe I deserved something as special as what we had.

I let out a breath. “I see him every day. If we had normal jobs, we wouldn’t see each other this much. Sometimes I see him two or three times a day. It’s not that. It’s just. I get worked up when he’s away. When he’s gone, I can’t believe I deserve what it is we have when he’s with me.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s with you or he’s gone, Abby. You still have it.” He looked at me like I was crazy. “Did you give him that bracelet that Lawson’s wife made for you?”

“I did.”

“What did it say on it?”

“You know what it said.”

“What did it say, Abby?” He arched one brow. “Remind me.”

“Believe,” I responded. “It said, believe.”

“Sounds to me that you need to take some of your own advice,” he said with a dry laugh. “Believe, Abby. Believe you’re worthy of him. Believe he’s in this for all the right reasons. Believe that he feels the same way about you that you feel about him. Believe that your lives collided for a reason. That the man above gave you an opportunity, and that for once you were paying attention and recognized what it was he put in front of you.”

I nodded. “I’m trying.”

“I don’t like too many people, and I like this guy. It has nothing to do with cars, if that’s what you’re wondering. Deep down in my gut, I believe Porter’s a good man. I can’t assure you of what the future holds, but I can tell you this: your odds of succeeding are greater with him than they were with--”

“Don’t even say his name,” I said.

“Well, you were with him for six years, and we never had a talk like this.”

“I was in that relationship for sex. I didn’t care about him. I was a fool and got wrapped up in the comfort of having sex and thought that was enough. I learned that it wasn’t.”

Sex was the only thing I had in common with Kelvin. If we weren’t screwing, I didn’t see much value in having him around. In fact, when we were done having sex, I often wanted him to leave.

“Exclude the sex,” he said. “Why are you in this relationship?”

I thought for some time before speaking. The answer was easy for me to understand, but not so easy to convey. George released my hand and relaxed against the back of the booth while he waited for me to respond. After an awkward silence, I decided it wasn’t one reason, it was many.

“Well, for one, when he kissed me the first time it was better than sex. Every time we kiss it’s like that. It’s crazy. And, he makes me laugh. He gives compliments without me asking for them. He puts his hand on my waist when we walk. It just rests there, reminding me that he’s with me. I can be myself when I’m with him and he accepts me, even though I’m a dork. He laughs with me, not at me. I don’t have to ask him if he cares about me, he shows me. Then, there’s this part of him that seems broken, and I feel like I’m fixing it. He gave me a card the other day, and it said, ‘When I’m with you, you’re all that matters. When you’re away, you’re all that matters. Abby, you’re all that matters’. I guess that kind of sums it up. I feel the same way.”

He smiled. “Sounds like love.”

“I like him a lot,” I admitted. “But I don’t think it’s love. Not yet.”

He chuckled. “Why not? Are you afraid if you admit it that he might find out? That he’ll run away?”

I was. I nodded subconsciously but didn’t respond. George studied my face. When the silence got awkward, he continued.

“For any relationship to survive, honesty is required,” he said. “From what he wrote in that card, I’d guess that he feels the same way. I recommend you tell him exactly how you feel. It’ll probably make you feel better. It might make him feel better, too.”

“Not saying something isn’t being dishonest,” I said.

He leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “Through the windows behind me, you watch a man rob the bakery across the street. He runs out, gun in one hand and a bag of money in the other. The police come in here afterward and say, ‘We’d like for anyone who saw anything to step forward’. You choose to maintain silence. Are you being honest?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. I mean, they didn’t ask if I saw anything. They just said we’d like for you to step forward.”

He reached under his apron, pulled out his phone, and messed with the screen for a minute. Then, he turned it to face me.

hon·est – adjective: free of deceit and untruthfulness; sincere

He set the phone aside. “I’ll ask it a different way. Would maintaining silence in the scenario I gave you be honest, based on the true definition of honesty?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I’ll just rephrase my statement about relationships,” he said. “For any relationship to survive, it must be free of deceit.”

After George’s speech I felt obligated to have a talk with Porter. It didn’t make the thought of doing so comforting, though. The possibility of rejection was real. If I said nothing, I was safe. But, I was also being deceptive.

I hated being wrong.

“We’re going out to eat tonight,” I said. “I’ll see how it goes. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him.”

He smiled. “If the time is right.”

I reached across the table. “I love you, George.”

“Love you too, Abby.”