ANDREW knew he had to talk to her. As warm and kind as Abby was, he felt a subtle difference since the nightmare. Her behaviors and actions—and how she spoke to him after that—were muted, somehow. If he didn’t do something fast, he was certain he’d lose her.

He left his office to look for her. She was in the library, working on her laptop.

“Hey.”

“Hi Andrew,” she said, smiling as she looked up from her screen.

“Got a second?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

He stretched his arm out and took her hand. “We should talk. Let’s go in the living room out front.”

“Okay.” She closed the lid to put the laptop to sleep, and got up to follow him down the hall.

In the living room, he motioned for her to sit, and sat beside her on the sofa.

“So what’s up?” She asked, peering up at him with curious intensity.

He paused and turned to her, gathering his thoughts. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Sorry? About what?”

“That nightmare I had. I didn’t want to alarm you. And I’m certain I did.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes I do.”

“No. You don’t. People have dreams. Some dreams are good; others, not so good.”

“True, but I think it was worse because I’m not sharing certain details with you.”

“What kind of details?”

“Things about my past.”

“We all have a past, Andrew.”

“I know. I’ve wanted to be more forthcoming, believe me, I have. I’m just not sure where to start, really.”

“Start from the beginning, or the end. Or wherever is easiest.”

“There’s no easy part of this.”

“Then share when you feel you can trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

“You think you do, Andrew. But deep down, you don’t. I’m not upset that you don’t. I’m not mad, or disappointed, or upset at all. We need time. It’s not something we’ve had. I’ll admit, I want to know everything about you. I want to share everything about myself with you. But that can’t happen overnight. It’s been seven days. We’ve got to give it time.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” She looked pensive for a moment, and then continued. “Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That’s dangerous, Andrew. Don’t promise me that. It’s too big. And no one can keep a promise of something as big as anything.”

“Okay. What then?”

“Promise me that if part of your dark past happens to come up in natural conversation, you won’t avoid sharing.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, just let it flow when it feels right, or when it comes up. I promise I won’t intentionally ask, but if it happens in conversation—and I won’t know because I still don’t know what it is—promise that you won’t shut me out, and that I won’t have to always watch what I say. Deal?”

He took a breath. He wasn’t sure he could keep that promise. But this conversation was a gateway to open the door. “Deal. Yes. I will do everything I can to be open.”

* * *

ANDREW was sweating bullets. It was time for her to fly back for the week, and although they had already made plans to see each other the following weekend, he didn’t think he could bear waiting a week before seeing her. The helicopter was waiting for her outside. He had decided to say his goodbye now so he wouldn’t have to fly back after she made it to San Francisco. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He straightened up when he saw her come to the front door with her bags.

“All set?” he asked, taking her luggage from her hands and reaching in for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She clung to him. He loved it.

“Yes,” she answered. “Well, no. I wish I could stay, but duty calls.”

“Let me get this to the chopper. Be right back.” He took her things out to the waiting helicopter, nodded at the pilot, and placed them in the space behind her seat. He hurried back. He wasn’t ready to let her go, but she had commitments.

“Okay. Your bags are all good.” He took her in his arms again, soaking in her scent and her warmth one last time before she left. “And I understand. You know you’re always welcome to come and stay with me, right?”

“Yes. I do.” She looked up to him with a soft smile and saddened eyes.

“I’ll see you next weekend, right?”

“Definitely. And Andrew?”

“Yes?” He sensed she had questions—probably the question—but with her departure just minutes away, it was not something he could handle. Not now. It was like the wound had re-opened after his most recent nightmare, and was twice as painful. He looked at her, doing his best to just enjoy this last moment before they saw each other again. The thought of being grilled cast a shadow over it.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

There it was. The beginning of the inquisition. Maybe it was not, but to Andrew, it felt that way.

“Sure,” he said politely, hoping he was formal enough that she would keep it light and to a minimum. It was not the right time.

“Have you ever been in love, Andrew?”

“Can we…can we save this one?” He answered. “That’s a big one, Abby. And you’re leaving any minute now. I will sit with you and find a way to tell you everything, top to bottom, beginning to end, the next time I see you. I promise. For now, as you’re leaving so soon, why don’t we just not talk about it. Let’s enjoy the silence. I really enjoyed being with you.”

He felt like an idiot for saying the last couple of sentences the second it came out.

“Come on, Andrew.”

Oh no. She’s putting on the pressure. This is not good.

“I promise I’ll just be an ear. I won’t judge you. You can tell me.”

“Abby, please don’t,” he pleaded.

Her wide eyes and upturned curves of an approaching smile just about undid him. He wished he had made enough progress to share, but knew he had not. The pit that was forming in his stomach made him certain this conversation was not going to end well. And he wasn’t helping either.

“You know what I think?” She continued. “I think yes. You have been in love.”

“Um, yes, Abby,” he answered, hoping if he conceded to this first affirmation, he could maneuver out of the lion’s den. “But then, it ended. She’s not with us anymore. She died.”

“Are you uncomfortable telling me what happened to her?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Abby was snuggled up so close and feeling so warm, it killed him to cut her off. He knew it was just her curiosity and not any intentional torture, but it still felt like torture to him.

“Does it have anything to do with your scars?”

“Stop it. Please, stop it okay?” his voice now boomed and reverberated around the hallway.

She recoiled, taking a step backward, and had the most confused expression on her face; having seen this new, anxious side of him. It wasn’t a tone he ever wanted to use with anyone who was this special to him, but could not control it. He had to get her to stop. He stepped back slowly. He was on edge. Maybe some distance would be best. He wasn’t ready.

“Look. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I think you should get going so you don’t miss you flight. Get home, and I’ll phone you tonight to see how you made it, okay?”

“It’s clear this is bothering you, Andrew,” she answered. “I’ll go now, but think about this. What if I have questions tomorrow? Or next week? We’ve all been through stuff. I would never judge your past. I just feel you may need to talk about it.”

“I do. But not now. Please try to understand.”

“I’m trying, Andrew. I feel there’s a wall you won’t ever let down for me to get closer.

His patience waned as his irritability grew. “If you’re so sure of that, how can’t you tell I’m not ready, Abby?”

She took another step back and turned to the door. That was it. He probably lost her. Shit!

“You’re right,” she answered, reaching for the front door handle. “I can’t possibly know what you’ve been through or what exactly you’re feeling. Especially if you don’t tell me. Good night, Andrew.”

She slid outside with a determination that spoke more than words. Her farewell was so firm; so final to him.

“Abby, wait,” he called to her as she made it down the steps.

Andrew bounded down and chased after her, hoping he hadn’t done too much damage. She turned slowly and faced him when he pulled her arm to stop her. The joy and excitement in her eyes were replaced with confusion and disappointment. That look clamped up Andrew’s chest even more.

He stood staring into her eyes, struggling for words which never came to him. He was at a loss, pleading with his eyes for her to give him some time. Abby took his hand, and lowered her head to kiss it.

“Good night, Andrew,” she repeated. With that, she turned and stepped up into the chopper.