Day 90.

He looked down at her hand on his arm in shock. He thought she had been ignoring him and that she didn't want him there. He figured he'd leave her be. But this simple gesture and those two words told him otherwise. "Don't go." He wished he'd heard them 10 years ago. It might've made him realize his mistake sooner instead of living with 10 years of regret and misery. He couldn't put that on her, and he knew it. She was just a child. He was the adult. He should've known. 

But today she said it. He stopped, turned around and sat back down. He could feel and see a change in her face, especially her eyes. Where they were blank and zombie-like a minute ago, they were sharp, focused and looking right at him.  Now that he felt her gaze, he wasn't sure if he could handle this. He never fooled himself into thinking it would be easy, but he wasn't quite prepared for the eye contact. The dread of having to look her in the eyes and explain his actions had become reality. He was here sitting right across the table from her. The scotch didn't help in calming his nerves. 

She didn't say another word once he sat back down. Should he engage? Start the conversation? Was she waiting for him? Should he wait for her? What thoughts were going through her head? 

Once and for all, he determined that he did not know how to read her. He'd never known.