CHAPTER 29
TREY
January brought snow and an emergency hearing.
Trey spent sixteen hours at the courthouse.
Paula spent eleven at her office.
At 10:40 p.m., she used her key and found him sitting at the kitchen island still wearing his suit.
“You won?”
“Temporary relief.”
The argument began over something small enough to be embarrassing later.
Most important arguments did. A schedule.
A key. A decision made without consultation.
Beneath it sat the larger question they kept circling: how could Trey offer care without making Paula feel managed, and how could Paula accept care without hearing dependence in every gesture?
Neither of them had a clever answer. They had only repetition, correction, and the willingness to try again.
“So yes.”
“For tonight.”
She put down her bag.
“You eat?”
He looked at her.
Paula’s eyebrows rose.
“Oh.”
Trey sighed.
She opened the refrigerator.
“Eggs, mustard, lemons. Again.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Sit.”
Trey stared.
Paula turned.
“Sit down, Roosevelt.”
Something about hearing his own tone returned to him made him smile.
He sat.
Paula cooked grilled cheese and tomato soup from ingredients she found in the pantry.
Trey watched.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
“Dangerous.”
“Yes.”
She put the bowl in front of him.
“Eat.”
He did.
Halfway through, his shoulders finally lowered.
Trey caught Paula’s reaction.
“You don’t know how to stop either.”
“I know.”
“No. You know intellectually.”
He looked at her.
She smiled.
“See?”
Trey laughed.
After dinner Paula took his phone.
“Hey.”
“You’re done.”
“I have emails.”
“They will exist tomorrow.”
“PK.”
“Do you want your phone back?”
“Yes.”
“Ask nicely.”
Trey stared.
Paula’s smile widened.
He stood.
She immediately backed up, laughing.
“This is not a scene.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then give me my phone.”
She ran.
Trey caught her in the hallway.
Paula screamed with laughter.
For five minutes they were ridiculous.
No dominance.
No law.
No crisis.
Just two adults chasing each other through a house because one stole a phone.
Eventually they collapsed on the sofa.
Paula tucked herself against him.
“This is my favorite.”
“What?”
“You when nobody needs you.”
Trey looked down at her.
The sentence stayed.
He kissed her hair.
Maybe usefulness was not the same thing as worth.
He was still learning.