"Is it difficult?"

"What? Dancing? Now?"

"Yeah."

"Sorta."

I don't say anything, I just wait for her to explain if she wants to.

"I have a special leg. I guess I don't put it on enough and...maybe I'm not giving it a chance."

"Do you want to give it a chance?"

She doesn't respond immediately, but after some silence, she says, "I didn't want to. Not at first. Even after that."

"Sounds like a but's coming on."

"Yeah."

"But now you do? Wanna give it a chance, I mean."

"Maybe."

I nod. Maybe that's as far as the conversation should go today. "Now this sounds like a happy song," I say, referring to the wildly upbeat song playing on the radio.

"Ah. "Keep on the Sunny Side." That's Brad Paisley. It was written back before the 1900s. I looked it up once. Ironically...it was inspired by a boy in a wheelchair who always wanted to be pushed on the sunny side of the street. Kinda reminds me of Johnny."

"Mmm."

"I guess...how he used to be...before he...got sad."

"Yeah." Thinking about Johnny makes me sad. "Before he gave up?"

"Why are you so certain he gave up?"

"Why? You saw him. He was this tirelessly happy kid..."

"Maybe he got tired of pretending to be happy. It doesn't mean he gave up."

"Are you giving up, Rose?"

"Me? What's this got to do with me?"

I glance her way again. "It doesn't. I'm just wondering. This practicing you've been doing...does it mean you're gonna try dancing again or are you going to give it up?"

"Well, giving it up and giving up are two different things."

"Are they?"

"I don't know. You tell me. Is saving your leg but giving up your baseball career giving up?"

I realize when I see signs for Vernon that I pa.s.sed our exit miles ago, so I continue heading to Rose's house instead. "That's not fair."

"How is it not fair? It's the same thing you're asking me."

"It isn't."

"It is, Ben. Saving your leg means a lifetime of complications, which you know means no Major League Baseball career. But losing your leg, and getting a new state-of-the-art prosthesis, and being back on the field within a few months, means you only put it on hold a year tops. I Googled it. Is your precious human leg that important to you?"

"Is yours? I haven't really seen you embracing the loss of yours."

From my side vision, I see her head dip.

"I'm sorry, Rose."

She just shakes her head.

"I didn't mean to get...fresh."

"I deserved it. I was fresh to you first."

"No, you weren't fresh. Just...honest."

"Yeah, well, call me pot, because I'm no better."

"Hi, Pot. I'm Kettle. Nice to meet you," I joke.

Thank G.o.d she laughs.

"How 'bout we make a deal," I suggest.

"No more talking about this? We weren't supposed to anyway, remember?"

"That's not what I was going to say. I was going to say, how 'bout if you put on that fancy dancing leg of yours, I'll cut off my leg."

She snaps her head toward me. "Falco, you can't make this decision for me...or to get me to dance."

"Yeah, but, I really don't want you to quit dancing."

"Why? You've never even seen me dance. Why is it so important to you?"

"Because you are important to me. And I did some Googling myself. There are videos of you online."

"Oh geez."

"You were awesome. Remarkable actually. And you looked like you loved it."

"Probably as much as you love baseball, Falco. So what's your point?"

I have to pull over. I cannot continue to have this conversation while we're driving. So the first convenience store parking lot I see, I pull in. I slam the car in park and turn to face her. "The point is, Rose, I don't want you to f.u.c.king quit the one thing that makes your eyes light up. They were lit up so bright while you were dancing that I could see it on a f.u.c.king YouTube video. Your face was so radiant, and beaming, and...and all this time I've known you, I've never seen you that happy. You cannot give up that happiness, Rose. You just can't."

She closes her eyes. For quite a long time. And she breathes...slowly. She tucks in her lips and then she cries. Not a lot, but one tear follows another until her cheeks glisten. That's when she opens them.

"Then how can you?"

37.

ROSE.

He just stares at me.

"You can't answer that, can you?"

He looks at me some more, then he says, "Why do you keep throwing my questions back at me? Why can't you just answer them?"

"Why can't you?"

"Jesus Christ, Rose. Because I want what's best for you. Don't you get it? I love you. I care more about what the f.u.c.k happens to you than I do me. Now that I know how happy you once were, it kills me to see you like this...like some sh.e.l.l of who you used to be." He grabs my left thigh with both his hands and gently lifts it so he's touching right beneath my knee, where it sits inside the socket of my prosthesis. "This. You're letting this define you. This leg does not define you. It's a part of you. A special part. Just like your hair is the most beautiful color of red I've ever seen. Just like your skin is the color of the white sand on a Jamaican beach. Just like you smell like f.u.c.king maple sugar. It's a f.u.c.kin' part of who you are. And I f.u.c.king love every. Single. Part. I just want to reach in and shake your fears free, you G.o.dd.a.m.n stubborn woman. I love you."

I lick the tears that fall to my lips. Then I think before I speak. "I think that's why your decision bothers me so much."

He signs and closes his eyes.

"No. I mean..." It scares me to say this, because I've never said it before. "I love you too. And that's why your decision to save your leg scares me. I read about it. Those risks include more surgeries...and the infections...they can be fatal. And definitely no baseball, and I know baseball makes you happy."

"Not as happy as you make me, Rose."

How can he say that? "How can you say that? It's all you've ever known."

"But now I know you." He sets down my leg but keeps his hand on my thigh.

"But that girl who broke up with you...because she couldn't allow baseball into your life..."

"She's not you, Rose. I didn't love her. You're more important to me than baseball...than...my education...than the G.o.dd.a.m.n air I breathe. s.h.i.t, Rose, to make you happy, I'll cut off my leg. To have you in my life forever, I'd..."

"Ben. The only reason getting your leg amputated would make me happy is because it would mean a possible career for you in the Majors. And...there are no real physical complications. I don't want you to have it cut off, as you say, just so I don't feel alone...or so you look like me. I hope you know that."

His hand reaches my face and he runs his fingertips down my scar. "Of course I know that." His fingertips glide down my arm until his hand reaches mine. He takes it in his and says, "After you came all the way down to Cherry Hill and showed up at the field that day...when I was so angry...I got to thinking. I did some research. I found out more about my options." He pauses. "You know, I never meant to make you feel bad about yourself that day."

"I know that. I was being...I was thinking about myself. I told you that. It's hard to look past...past my flaws. And I was thinking about you afterwards, and you're right. I'm sure it's easier having the decision made for you than having to make it yourself."

He smiles, and I just want to lean in to him.

"If I were conscious and they asked me to decide if I wanted to keep my leg or risk...death. I have to be honest...I may have chosen death."

His face suddenly looks pained. "Then thank G.o.d you were unconscious."

"Small miracles, right?" I joke.

"It's a huge miracle, Rose. If you had died, I'd have never fallen in love."

Ben leans across the gearshift and kisses my lips. When we part, I can't help but say, "You make me happy to be alive."

And then he kisses me again. And for the first time since knowing Ben, I want to do more than just kiss him. I'm not sure how I'll feel about him seeing my body, but I know I feel less self-conscious around him. That thought makes me smile, and he's still kissing me.

"What?" he asks mid-kiss.

"What?"

"You're smiling. What's up?" His lips are still a breath away, but they're not on mine.

I want them on mine. "Nothing," I say, bringing my lips back to his.

After another few heated minutes, Ben breaks our kiss and says, "I'm sure we can find a more romantic place to do this." He pecks my lips one last time, then pulls out of the lot. While b.u.t.terflies have a field day fluttering around in my stomach as if they were high on caffeine.

"So we missed the turn off to the restaurant a while back," Ben tells me once we're back on the road. "But we'll go to your house first and then get a late lunch...or early dinner."

I laugh. "Either's good."

The car ride up to my house goes fast, since the whole rest of the drive, I'm stuck in my head replaying our kiss. At one point, I stop just to thank G.o.d that He put Ben in my life. I hadn't thanked Him in a long time, but tonight, I feel like He is finally on my side.

Hand in hand, we walk up to my house. I turn the doork.n.o.b, but it's locked. "Oh geez, I hope I have my key."

Ben just laughs.

I let go of his hand to check my purse, but it's the small bag that I throw across my shoulder and chest. I can't remember if I transferred my keys when I switched from my normal purse. "Oh thank goodness," I say, slipping my finger into the key ring.

Inside the house, all the lights are off, and only the afternoon sunlight is filtering in through the curtains.

"No one's home?" Ben asks.

"Guess not."

"Were they expecting you?"

"No, no. I wasn't planning on coming up until you said we were driving up 23."

"Oh."

"It's fine. It's better they're not home. My mom would ask all kinds of questions as to what I needed." I take off my thick cardigan and throw it over the banister. Ben does the same with his leather coat. Then I motion for him to follow me up the stairs. "If you want, or you can just stay down here, I'll be right back."