It seems to be all I think about anymore. When nothing else captures my attention, I hear Maura: "Let me know what you decide." Not angry. Just. Sad. Resigned. Like she knew better than to expect anything else from me. Ever. Like I'm just like every other idiot in her past, who couldn't accept her, or who used her, or let her down. All the things I swore to myself I would never do to her.

So what makes me any different? When push comes to shove, nothing.

It was my fault. Being drunk isn't any excuse for what we did together, and then what I did alone. I got up from her bed, hungover and freaked out, gathered my clothes, and left. Marissa caught me doing the walk of shame, looked past me, and when she didn't see her, asked, "Where's Maura?"

I fumbled out some stupid answer and slunk into my apartment. The dog, thank goodness, was with my brother for the weekend, so I could fall into bed and ignore everything for the next several hours.

When I woke up in the afternoon, I felt awful. Not physically so much as guilty. I knew I'd been unfair to Maura. I knew she'd be angry. She hadn't called or texted me. I drank a bunch of water and went for a run, trying to. I don't know. Not forget, because it was awesome. It was definitely the best sex I ever had. And it was Maura, which made everything better and so much worse at the same time.

How could I say goodbye to my best friend over something so stupid? I know nobody gave a shit but me. For months, I'd been getting all these meaningful looks and encouraging chats from all corners, even from Ma. Jesus, who was living in Maura's guesthouse, and what would this do to that arrangement?

I don't know how long I ran. I zoned out for part of it, thinking, just thinking about how everything was going to change and how it scared the bejesus outta me. More than facing off with a serial killer, or being shot or blown up.

So I didn't run from her, not exactly, not really. I tried to grow a set and go talk to her after a long shower. I didn't let myself in. I was pretty sure I surrendered that right when I left her.

Maura's face when she opened the door. Just for a moment, I could see all these feelings blow across her face before she composed herself. "May I come in?"

She stepped back and gestured toward the interior of her house. I waited for her to close the door and followed her. We ended up in the kitchen, on opposite sides of the bar. It seemed safer.

"Sorry I took off this morning."

"Why?"

'Tell her the truth. She deserves that.' "Scared, I guess."

"Why?" She tilted her head a little. Processing.

My palms were sweating like crazy and I rubbed them on my pants. "I don't know."

"I can't help if you won't let me."

"I didn't ask you to help."

"Why did you come here then?"

"To apologize. I was an insensitive ass."

"You were," Maura agreed with a ghost of a smile and unwound a tiny bit. "So where does that leave us?"

She sounded timid, completely unlike herself, and my answer didn't help at all. "I don't know."

"Let me know what you decide," Maura said quietly and left the kitchen.

I stared at her back. After a few moments, I went out the back door and over to the guesthouse. Probably a mistake, but I didn't know where else to go. Ma opened the door, took one look at me, and said, "Oh, baby."

She pulled me into a hug with one arm and closed the door with the other.

"I totally messed up everything."

"Shh, it'll work out."

I didn't tell her everything. I don't think I told her anything, actually. And the whole time, all I could think was that I should be with Maura. And that's why I told Ma to take care of her.

When Monday rolled around, I wanted to call in sick. I couldn't, though. I just had to suck it up.

Maura wasn't a bitch. I think I could have handled it better if she was. Instead, I just got the same politeness, the same courtesy that everyone else got. Nothing more. It was like the secret handshake got changed and nobody told me. The guys had enough sense to keep their mouths shut, but the looks were enough to make me want to throw something.

And it went on for a week. Every day I pretended nothing was different even though anyone could see everything was. I tried to make myself too tired to think at night. That didn't work at all. Instead, I had nightmares. Sleep terrors. Something happening to Maura featured in every one. Waking up alone, sweating, heart pounding, flailing around for my piece since the light was all ready on.

Every night, I stopped myself from calling her to make sure she was all right. Every morning, Ma called me to tell me what Maura did the night before. Mostly nothing. She went out once, to the opera or ballet or something I was supposed to go to with her. Sunday morning, when she called to tell me not to bring anything for dinner, Ma let it drop that Maura had a date Saturday night.

It was like a punch in the gut. If anyone went out with her, it should be me. If anyone kissed her, it should be me. And if I did those things, I'd have to find a way to live in my skin. I suspected it would be easier than the past week.

So I went to dinner. I caught Maura alone long enough to ask whether we could talk later, let her go on after she nodded. We ate and I fooled around with my brothers, and we all cleaned up and Ma dragged the boys away.

"You wanted to talk," she said in the kitchen, arms folded.

Right to it, ok. "I'm an idiot."

With a small nod, she encouraged me to continue.

"I don't know what I thought was gonna happen. I mean, this has been happening since we met. I thought about it a lot. I thought about us. About being friends, and being something else, too. And that's what I want, if it's what you want."

"What's to keep you from tearing off again?"

"My word." When she didn't say anything, I kept on. "I was wrong, and I promise I won't do that again. I'm all in, if you'll have me."

"This is our relationship, not a business deal."

"I know that."

"Yet you make it difficult to differentiate."

I nodded. She wanted words, even though they wouldn't change anything. I wanted to say them. I felt the things that made me want to say them. Saying them would make me what everyone said behind my back and sometimes to my face, but I sucked it up and said them anyway. "I love you, Maura."

She looked at me for what felt like forever, studying me like she did the computer when she worked on the program for deciphering micro expressions. Then she dropped her arms and moved forward and we were hugging. It was the best I'd felt in too long.