Meg heard the desperation in his voice, and it caused an ache in her chest, because she knew she was the cause of it. No matter what she did, how hard she tried, she always managed to screw things up with him. She was giving everything she had...more really, but she knew it wasn't enough, and could never be enough. She couldn't change who or what she was, and that meant she couldn't even meet him halfway. He'd always be chasing after her in one way or another, and she couldn't seem to do anything about it. How long before he got tired of that chase? He filled a hole in her life that she hadn't known existed, and she couldn't fathom what she would do once he realized that what he was getting from her now was all she had to give.
Gently, she pushed back from the table and stood. Taking the chair in her hands, she moved it around the table to sit beside him. She couldn't say the words, but she could do this. She pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick mark on his skin, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He was nearly finished eating, but she wasn't ready to abandon the table just yet. This had been her gesture, and she wasn't sure if it had succeeded or not.
"Thank you," she said quietly. She knew he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to discuss their "relationship" and "love." But he had said they didn't have to talk about it. Knowing it was probably difficult for him to agree to that, she wanted to make sure he knew she understood, and was grateful. He didn't ask too much of her. Never had, and, she hoped, never would.