She sits up on the barstool at the island, and says, “I’d love to say I can go where you go, but that’s just not true. I need a scholarship to cover my schooling. I’m confused, Harbor, because what you said is that you’ll go to Baylor with me, but you didn’t apply, so how are you going to school with me when you didn’t even fill out the application?”

The best high from being accepted turned into the biggest disappointment each time she found out she didn’t get the scholarships for her reach schools. I want this settled once and for good. “I’ll help pay for your medical school.”

She was rubbing her temple, but her hand stills. “What do you mean? You can’t do that.”

“I can do some.” I stand and move to the other side of the island from her. “Baylor offered thirty percent. I can cover, I don’t know, another thirty over four years, and then you’ll get financial aid for the rest. Problem solved.”

Blinking slowly, her tongue dips out to wet her lips, and then she closes her mouth again. “Hm.”

“Hm?”

“I’m processing.” That’s fair. Then she raises her finger in the air. “How does that solve the problem? I would then owe you and the bank money.”

“No.”

“No?” she asks, her brows rising.

“No. I could give you the money.”

“Um, double no.” Shaking her head, she drops her gaze. “Absolutely not. Extra no. Whatever no gets through to you. No.”

“No? Are you sure?”

“You’re not giving me the money, Harbor. I’m not spending years of my life in debt to you. At least not financially. Sexually, even emotionally, I’m all in, running a tab. But you know how I feel about owing people and unpaid debts.”

Remembering how she couldn’t stand when I bought her coffee at TJ’s, I know she hasn’t changed. She got a job down at Moretti’s to help pay rent. She can’t just accept a damn gift without feeling guilty. It’s both sweet and annoying because I have to predict how she’ll react before I buy her anything. She adds, “I wasn’t raised that way. There’s so much more to it than the next four years, and then there’s the residency. I’ll be eighty before I can pay you back.”

“What does it matter if we’re still together?”

“If?” she says, the one word the only one she notes.

If she only knew how I’d give up everything just to be with her. I’d trade my life for hers if it meant making her dreams come true. Nothing else matters but us. I say, “When we’re in our eighties together.” I stare into her watery eyes. “I don’t want you always worried about the next step. You’ll never owe me money. I’ll give it to you freely.”

“Like you once said, no good deed goes unpunished, so we need to be ration—”

“No, we don’t. We can be as irrational as we want to be. If being with you is the punishment, punish away.” I come around to her and drag the tips of my fingers over her bare thigh. With her sleep shorts riding high, I reach the bend in her leg, tempted, even while having uncomfortable conversations, to slip sideways between her legs.