All of the above.
“I kept hoping to feel your hand in the dark.”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard.
“But I knew you couldn’t find me even if you tried.”
Derek was a strong man. He was a survivor. The more mature of the pair of us. But he was also a child sometimes. A hurt kid in need of reassurance. Sometimes, he was both those people at once.
He raised his head, moonlight catching his eyes. “Wha-at if I came with you to No-orway?”
Oh no, he’d stuttered. Derek’s speech impediment only reappeared when he was nervous or insecure. It melted my heart. But he couldn’t fly. Up there, with the pressure change, no. His neurologist had warned him: He could have a seizure over the Atlantic. I put my drink down on the night table and the phone, too. I turned to my side to stare at his shadowed face on the blue silk pillow.