"It is up to you, partially." How sobering. Every step of the way, the future would depend on Eric. It was up to whether he wanted her or not. And Amber would never, ever be able to control that. She could fake herself, adopt attitudes she thought he'd like more, become whom he might like. But even then-- not that she would do that-- he might not be satisfied. Might up and leave and find someone else less complicated, less controversial. Someone who wouldn't stab him with problems at every turn, someone simple and safe to go home to. His feelings were absolutely out of her hands.

God, he was right. Making him hate her would be so much easier. Amber wouldn't have to deal with dreading the moment he realized he'd had enough, that she wasn't worth it.

He was trying to smooth over their fight, the verbal equivalent of kissing and making up. But even his pseudo-apology revealed the problem: he wanted to be right about her and them. That didn't mean he was. He might, as his statement implied, be wrong.

They were pulling up into the hospital parking lot. At least they were more or less on time; they'd be late by no more than a minute or two. Eric had done his part, driving aggressively, letting nothing get in his way. But what he'd done in traffic they couldn't do with each other.

"We need more time," Amber said, as devoid of feeling as before. She didn't dare let in any more emotion than that, she couldn't afford it, not now that they were about to go into public. They'd rushed into their relationship. When it'd been just a one-night stand, speed was no problem. But to be an actual couple, they needed to know who they were, didn't they. Finding out like this, in bits and pieces, flipping from hot to cold, she couldn't handle it. "We need to figure out if we really want this."