A rumble shook the very earth as the train carrying Art bustled along the Midwestern countryside. A fresh snowfall the night before made for a much longer ride than anticipated—a ride he was supposed to take with the love of his life, not you.

It had been near on three hours spent with you in the silence of the private room, he busied himself mindlessly, rolling an engagement ring between his fingers over and over.

You've been a good sport by letting him sulk, not interrupting his thought process again after the first time he unintentionally snipped at you, he knew you didn't deserve his scorn—it was just hard not wanting to lash out at someone, anyone.

Art had never felt as trapped within his own anguish as he did now. He had a vision of Tashi and him as a married couple, tearing through the tennis ranks together and maybe even having a kid or two, but now all that was gone. She left him high and dry, sneaking off into the night after she rejected his proposal.

Maybe his humiliation wouldn't have run so deep if she tried to work it out and explain like she said she would, she left without so much as a note, he assumed she returned to New York. All that was certain was that she wouldn't be coming back to him.

Art's gaze turned to you momentarily, you sat across from him reading a book, he couldn't quite make out the name of it with how you had it bent haphazardly. He watched as your brows began to knit together, as your eyes scanned the words dutifully.

"I'm sorry for earlier," he didn't know what pulled the meek apology from him but he was glad to speak it, he lost enough in these past few years; Patrick and now Tashi, he didn't want to add you to that list. If one thing remained consistent in his life it was you, you've been his rock since before he could remember. "Come sit with me... please."