Page 410 of Face Off
“I hate this agreement.”
“So do I.”
“At least we’re beginning from common ground.”
Her quiet laugh moves through the speaker.
“Sunday at nine your time,” I say. “We talk.”
“We talk.”
“And if something happens before Sunday?”
“If it is genuinely urgent, we call.”
“You decide what urgent means for you.”
“And you decide what it means for you.”
“I’m not known for admitting when I need anyone.”
“Then this arrangement may provide another opportunity for personal growth.”
“There she is.”
Her laughter returns, and missing the sight of it hurts more now that I can hear it.
“I want to see you,” I tell her.
“I want to see you too.”
“We could use video without breaking the other rule.”
“No.” The word is gentle, though nothing about it bends. “I don’t want the first time I see you again to happen through a screen.”
My fingers tighten around the phone.
“I want you in front of me,” she continues. “I want the real weight of it. I want to see what happens to your face when you look at me and know neither of us can end the moment by pressing a button.”
“You understand waiting might make it worse.”
“I understand it makes seeing you valuable.”
The room becomes painfully still around me.
“Pictures remain permitted,” I say.
“Was the towel picture insufficient?”
“The towel obstructed several important details.”
“I corrected that oversight in the next photograph.”
“That photograph is currently responsible for several crimes against my self-control.”
“Then I suppose I should send another.”
“Charm.”
