“Well, I—” I let out a surprised huff of air. “You’re right, I suppose. I never looked at it quite so black and white. Maybe …” I knew what he was saying was right, but I’d been working toward being a successful partner at an architectural firm since I’d started college. My father had always known I’d be good at it, ever since I’d known what I wanted to be. He’d encouraged me. He’d fostered my love for the details no one else saw. He’d—

“What?”

Huh. “Um. I think I’m having an existential crisis.” Should I even be an architect?

Xavier’s concerned face grew more serious. “I’m sorry. I only meant—”

“No. It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. Of course I should be an architect. My degree was the only one I’d have ever wanted, but … “Maybe I’ve been focusing on working at the wrong places. Looking at it wrong. God, to think, I even applied for a job at a firm that builds office parks.” I shuddered. “How did you get so smart?”

He chuckled and kissed my hair. “Well, I must do a few more things before my meeting.” He stood.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. Thank you for the coffee.” I glanced down at my attire of his lone wrinkled shirt. “Is it safe to go downstairs dressed like this?”

“Of course. I was thinking perhaps you would like to stay in my cabin tonight. If you need your own space I understand. But perhaps you would sleep better?”

“It’s not that I need my own space, but …” How did I tell him his dead wife was everywhere in that room? And knowing now what he’d shared with me about her, it felt even more heartrending. As if by keeping all her things for two years untouched that he wasn’t ready to give her memory up. Maybe he wasn’t. And where did that leave me? I already knew I was temporary for him, but I didn’t need the reminder while we made love. Not to mention that was a sure-fire way to say bye-bye to my big O. And I was quite attached to the ones he coaxed out of my body.

I took a breath. “It feels as if your room is yours and Arriette’s room. I don’t want to interfere with your memory of her. And it’s all right,” I rushed on. “I’m okay. Not, like, jealous, or anything.” I grimaced. Jealous? Of a dead woman? Fuuuucck. I needed more sleep, clearly. “Sorry, that was not what I meant.” I flailed. “I actually don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m trying to be sensitive to your feelings, and mine, and her memory, and I’m not doing a very good job. I’m sorry.”

“Tu as fini?” He sat back down, eyebrow raised.