Now I think she just understood him in a way that takes a very long time to learn. You're learning it, Calvin said. Sophie looked at him. I'm trying. That's is the same thing he said.
She studied him for a moment. Then she closed the binder carefully, her notebook inside it, and set it aside. Calvin, she said, something in the way she said his name, precise, intentional, made him pay closer attention. There's something I need to tell you, she said. Something I've been trying to figure out how to say for a couple weeks.
He waited. She looked at her mug, then at him. The San Francisco job, she said. It's not permanent. He looked at her.
It's a 2-year contract, she said. It's always been a 2-year contract. I knew that when I accepted it. She paused. After 2 years, I have options.
I could extend. I could look for something else. I could She stopped. I could come home. The kitchen was very quiet.
Home where? Calvin said. Here, she said. Ohio. She met his eyes without wavering.
I'm not saying that's what happens. I don't know what happens in two years, but I know that before I came back in October, the word home didn't have a location anymore. It was just a thing people said. She stopped. Now it does.
Now it has an address. Calvin looked at her. He was aware of something moving in his chest, something he'd been keeping at a careful distance for the past 6 weeks. Not because he didn't recognize it, but because he'd been determined to let this be what it was. To not make it into something else.
To stay in the lane he'd started in. "Two years is a long time," he said. "I know a lot can change. I know that, too." She held his gaze.
"I'm not asking you anything, Calvin. I want to be clear about that. I'm not I'm not saying this to put something on you. I'm saying it because you've been honest with me since the night you picked me up, and I think you deserve the same thing back." He nodded slowly.
"Okay," he said. She looked at him. "Okay," she said. "Okay," he said again. Thank you for telling me.