It was as though he'd dealt her a blow, both with how the words felt leaving him and how she reacted to them. Ben watched her anxiously, and took a few steps closer to the stairs. When she moved to sit, for a moment he thought she was going to fall. Maybe it hadn't been fair to tell her that, either, but he meant it. He hadn't planned it, maybe hadn't even realized it a moment before he said it, but he believed it.

"I know," he said, moving to sit on the floor a few feet from the base of the stairs and looking up at her attentively. "I know. It sounds crazy. I sound crazy," he admitted. "But I don't want to leave. And I don't want you to go. Physically or... you know, mentally," he said, struggling to find words to express exactly what he meant. "I know you don't have any reason to believe I can do this, but give me a chance. Let me try. We've got time, right? We've got... eight months," he said, glancing towards her stomach. "So give me that long. To prove I mean it. And if you're not happy by then, then — we can figure out what happens next. Okay?" he offered. This was the point where he would have laid a reassuring hand on her knee or her shoulder, if he'd been allowed close enough to touch her, but they weren't there yet, and that was fine. For the first time in a long time, he was optimistic — stupidly, inexplicably optimist. They would get there. They could do this. He loved her.