The entire room goes silent.
"Let's take ten." Patrick cleans up his client. Washes up. Comes to me.
"Hey." There are too many words on the top of my tongue.
"Hey." He moves closer. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Closer. "I found you after Deidre died and I needed you. I needed that understanding, so badly. I wasn't ready to let go."
"How long did you know?" he asks.
"I didn't put it together until you decided to end things. I should have told you then, but I—Well, I told myself we would have had more time to have fun if Dare hadn't opened his big mouth—" He looks to his friend, who is totally listening.
Dare waves.
"We're not listening." Luna barely tries to sell it.
"Do you want to go outside?" he asks.
I shake my head.
He moves to me until he's right there, his hand inches from mine. "I told myself it was because we deserved more time to have fun. And that was true. I wanted more time with you, figuring out what you liked, listening to you talk about movies."
I wanted that too.
"But it was more, too. I didn't want to risk losing you here. Or there."
"You loved my site that much?"
"More," he says. "But I should have told you anyway. I'm sorry."
I nod.
"I reasoned with myself every way from Sunday. And all of it was true—it's a public site, you didn't tell me this big thing, you were willing to share with strangers—but it wasn't honest. I knew it would feel like a betrayal and I did it anyway."
"I should have told you."
"No," he says. "That was yours to tell. On your time." He moves closer. "I'm sorry, Imogen. I fell in love with your words. That's no excuse, but… I hope you can understand how hard it was to let go."
"My words?"
"With you. Here. And there. I meant what I wrote."
My cheeks flush.
"You read it?"
"Every word."
"How did it feel?" he asks.
"Strange."
"For me too." He brings his hand to my cheek. "I meant it. I love you."
"I love you too."