She pushes her chair back and stands. "You wouldn't be a burden. Anthony, you can't possibly think that."
"I can't possibly think that? So you'll never get tired of me not being able to navigate the house we live in? Never resentful that I can't take you places? That I'll slow you down, hinder your trips, stand in the way of all those dreams of yours. Your bucket list, Summer. I won't be able to tell you if your haircut looks good, let alone hike with you to Machu Picchu."
There's a stunned look on her face. She hasn't considered this, then. Good. I've had enough time to consider it for the both of us.
"There are ways," she murmurs. "Ways to learn to live with it. Guide dogs, white canes, braille… I know this won't defeat you."
"How do you know that?"
"Because you're stronger than this, Anthony. You're the strongest person I've met."
I shake my head at her. "You don't understand."
She buries her hand in Ace's fur. He's pressed against her leg, looking between us. "I don't. You're right. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be here, because I do, Anthony."
"You want children," I say. "It's on your bucket list."
The look she gives me is wide-eyed. She's not following, but she nods.
I tap a finger against my temple. "What kind of husband would I make? What kind of father?"
"A good one." A tear rolls down her cheek, and in the king of all ironies, I can see it with shattering clarity.
"A useless one," I correct her. "I refuse to become someone you have to take care of. Summer, I would rather die than be anything less than a true partner to you."
The small shake of her head is one of denial as her illusions shatter. Because the truth is I'll never be the man she wants me to be. Never able to live up to her fantasies of true love and two-point-five children.
"You should find someone else," I tell her. Nod to the door. "Use your own matchmaking service, Summer. Find a man who can take you on trips and give you children. Who doesn't spend the night passed out on painkillers and alcohol. You want a relationship like your parents have."
"It's my choice too," she says. "It's my choice who I want in my life. And I want you."
"Now, maybe. But you won't in the future."
She takes a step closer. Her eyes are wet, but the set of her mouth is sharp. "Stop telling me what I want! Damn it, Anthony. Would you rather your pride kept you company at night than me?"
"This has nothing to do with my pride."
"Doesn't it? Because I think it starts and ends with that." She shakes her head again, blowing out a breath. "I don't agree with you, Anthony. I don't agree with how you see yourself or your future."
"You will, in time."
"No, I won't." She reaches up and puts a hand on my cheek. I can't handle the emotion shining in her eyes, so I do what I usually hate.
I shut my eyes.
"I disagree with a lot of the things you've said today," she says shakily. "Your life isn't over, and I won't let you throw the rest of it away. And as for me? Don't you dare make decisions for me about what I can and can't handle, or decide what I do or do not want."
Her hand slides off my cheek, and when I open my eyes again, she's back by the kitchen table. A flush is stark on her cheeks.
"I think it's best if I left for today," she says.
I nod. She should leave and never come back, if she knows what's good for her.
Her eyes fill again, like I've given the wrong response. But the vulnerability is gone as she turns on her heel and heads toward my front door.
Ace stays seated in the kitchen, a soft whine escaping his throat.
"Come on, Ace!" she calls out. I've never heard her use steel in her voice before when speaking to him.
He gives me one last long, brown-eyed look. "Go on, boy," I tell him.
He turns, shoulders down and tail between his legs, trotting to where Summer has already left.
I sink back onto my chair with a sigh. That was the longest meeting with a client I've ever had. He'd been meticulous about the details, and the fast prompts I'd given him had become opportunities for soliloquies.
But between the shyness in his expression and the depth of intellect his responses betrayed, finding a match for him won't be difficult.
I already have a few ideas, but I'll have to look through our client database to be sure. A tentative knock on the door to my office and Suzy sticks her head in.
We share a look.
"I was so close to coming up with a fake meeting for you, just to get you out of that one," she says.
"Thanks. We should have some sort of signal for that."
"We should. Like, if you call out to reception twice in quick succession."
"Or I can email you."
"Or you can email me," she says, grinning. "Did it go okay?"
"Absolutely. I think he's just anxious to get his responses right, and well… not everyone is comfortable with the idea of using a dating service."
"Very true." She steps into my office, leaving the door open behind her, and looks at herself in the gilded mirror. Runs a finger below her eyes to catch any falling mascara.
"You look great," I tell her. "I love this green dress on you."
She beams. "Thank you. It was a thrift-store find. Vintage Hermès."
"Yes. Had to get it dry-cleaned, but it was worth it."
"You should tell Vivienne about that store, if you haven't already. She might give you a raise on that alone."
We both laugh. My aunt's eclectic taste in everything expensive and historic is evident in the decor of our office, not to mention her own flawless outfits.
"I will," Suzy says. "She hasn't come into the office yet today, though."
"Not even while I had my meeting?"