“I’m fucking serious right now, Maddy. Don’t joke around.”

Her shoulders sag, and she exhales a shaky breath while she continues to pack away her stuff. Then she turns to me, but she doesn’t speak.

And for a moment, neither do I.

Our eyes lock, waiting for the other to crack first.

I won’t cave—not this time.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says.

“You scared me.”

“I know.”

Taking a step toward her, I try for an even tone when I say, “You know that I’m not going to push you to talk about certain things—but stuff like this—I need to know about it. I need to know what to do if this happens again—or what I need to do to prevent it from happening in the first place.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you had it under control, Madison, because that’s a fucking lie.”

“I was just going to say that I forgot. I was having such a good time that I honestly forgot about it. And then we got in the car, and I started—”

“You should have told me right away.”

“I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Like I am right now?”

She groans, frustrated. “Can you at least yell at me after I eat?”

***

She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing and swallowing her food. I raise my eyebrows at her, jerking my head at her plate. “Keep going.”

“Ky, I’m not a kid.”

I cross my arms. “When the plate’s empty we’re going to sit down and you’re going to take me through everything. Step by step.”

She drops her fork and matches my stance, then mumbles under her breath.

I lean forward on my elbows, waiting until I’m calm before I speak. “Don’t you think you’re being unfair?”

She scoffs. “Me! Have you met you right now? How can you say I’m being unfair?”

“Because you are, Madison. You’re being unfair to us. You were right. We had a great day, and it could have ended great if you’d just told me what was going on instead of hiding it from me.” I pause, waiting to see if she’ll speak up, but she doesn’t. “You’re not being fair to us and whatever it is that we are at the moment—because you and I—we’re just beginning, and with what you did today—you’re not giving us a chance. And I want that chance. Don’t you, babe? Don’t you think we deserve that? To be happy. Because you do, Maddy—you make me happy. And seeing you the way you were today—” I push down the lump in my throat. My eyes stay on hers as she stares down at the table. “I don’t want to see you like that again. And I don’t want to be helpless with you. I want to take care of you, no matter what it is...but you have to be honest with me, at least with that. Please.”

She looks up; a perfect pout formed on her perfect lips. But she isn’t faking it this time. She nods and picks up her fork.

We spend the rest of her meal in silence.

When she’s done, she stands up and offers me her hand. Then she leads me back to her bathroom.

She tells me all about her diabetes—what type it is and the things she does to keep it under control. She says that she hasn’t had any issues since she’s moved in and that today was the first time anything like that has happened.

She then guides me through her insulin doses and even shows me the tiny dots that cover parts of her stomach and both her thighs from the needles. Marks that, even though I spent a lot of time up close and personal with her body, I’ve never noticed before. She also mentions that she hopes I don’t find those things unattractive. I tell her she’s stupid and that if she thinks that then she doesn’t know me at all. And then I ask her something that’d been bugging me since we left the photo-kiosk. “Why didn’t you want to go to the hospital, Maddy?”

She shrugs and averts her gaze. “I can’t afford it.”

“Bullshit. You know I would’ve covered you.”

“I don’t want your money.”

I pull on her arm until she’s standing in front of me. Then I lift her chin with my finger, giving her no choice but to look at me. “And I don’t want your lies.”

Her throat bobs once, and then her shoulders sag, giving up to the inevitable. “Because I don’t exist, Ky. Not officially. My dad forgot about me when I was twelve and I packed whatever I could and ended up on the streets at fifteen. It’s not like I have a driver’s license or anything.”

“But now. I mean—”

“Ky!” She’s almost begging now. “I’m tired,” she cries. “And I just want to go to sleep. And I want to forget the last part of the day. Please. Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

“Fine. But we’re—”

“I know!” she shouts. “I get it. You’re mad. You’re disappointed. Just please—not now.” Her voice breaks into a sob, giving me everything I needed to quit being a dick.

“You’re right, babe. I’m sorry.”

“Will you kiss me now?” she asks, her head tilting all the way back. She scrunches her nose and exaggerates the puckering of her lips. I laugh. And then I give in to her.

The second our lips make contact; she circles her arms around me, keeping me in place. Then she pulls back abruptly.

“Another one,” I say.