Watching him carefully, almost fearfully, she flinched at his tone, the ache in her chest growing with each word. She should have been placated by what he said, he listed out each fear she had ever made known previously, but she still didn't believe it was what he wanted in the long run.

Lower lip trembling, entirely unlike her, Winnie realized she was the hold up here. She couldn't just accept what he was saying, but it lingered, festering, and it worried her. "I'm sorry." It came out in a long sigh. "I don't know how to share a space with someone else." Her voice was small, unsure. Even though she now lived in the same house as Ivy, their spaces were separate. Separate rooms, closets, though they shared the washroom and living spaces, it was all meticulously cleaned, a mutual respect for the other person what was understood and followed. It was an arrangement of convenience, and her failsafe, knowing she had somewhere that was hers to fall back on.

"But you say that now, what about in two years? Five? Ten? Are you going to look back and regret that decision? You've been faced with the possibility twice of becoming a father, were ready to step up both times and you were disappointed both times. You can't tell me that doesn't mean something." There was a composure to her voice that even she was proud of, even if it tilted toward a little sad. She wrapped her arms around her knees, peering at him over the top. "I don't want to do that to you again."