Across the room Reid watched.
Lena saw.
His expression nearly undid her.
Later, after guests left, Emma fell asleep on the bench.
Reid carried her upstairs.
Lena cleaned plates.
When he returned, he took the towel from her.
“You’re a guest tonight.”
“I’m always cleaning something.”
“I noticed.”
He began drying.
They worked quietly.
Then Lena said:
“I was engaged once.”
Reid stopped.
She did not know why she had chosen that moment.
Maybe because his confession still lived between them.
Maybe because she owed him context if nothing else.
“I was twenty-four.”
Reid resumed drying.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.”
She looked at the dishwater.
“He was a bookkeeper.”
“Nice man at first.”
“Kind.”
“He said my size didn’t matter.”
Reid’s mouth tightened.
Lena continued.
“I thought saying it didn’t matter was romantic.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No.”
“Because it mattered to me.”
“It affected everything.”
“Clothes.”
“Travel.”
“Chairs.”
“Health.”
“Work.”
“How strangers treated me.”
She stared at her hands.
“He kept pretending he didn’t see any of it.”
“Then one day he did.”
Reid waited.
“He said if we married, I should stop working in public.”
Reid’s jaw moved.
“Why?”
“He didn’t like people staring.”
Lena smiled bitterly.
“I thought he meant he wanted to protect me.”
“He meant he didn’t want them staring at him for choosing me.”
Reid set down the plate.
“What happened?”
“I ended it.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“I loved him.”
Reid’s face softened.
“Still good.”
Tears surprised her.
She laughed angrily and wiped them.
“I hate crying.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You look furious whenever it happens.”
She laughed through tears.
Reid leaned against the counter.
Lena continued.
“I don’t want someone who says my size doesn’t matter.”
He listened.
“I want someone who knows it matters without believing it’s all I am.”
Reid nodded slowly.
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Most people aren’t.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She looked toward him.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“You said you like me.”
“Yes.”
“Does my size bother you?”
Reid took longer than she expected.
Good.
He was actually thinking.
“Sometimes I worry about whether something will be comfortable for you.”
She waited.
“I worry when you climb the loft steps alone.”
“I worry your knees hurt because I’ve seen you hide it.”
“I worry people use your size to hurt you because I have watched them do it.”
He looked at her.
“But does looking at you bother me?”
“No.”
“Do I wish you were different so I could want you more easily?”
“No.”
Lena’s breath caught.
Reid continued.
“You take up space.”
“Literally and otherwise.”