“Maybe.”

“My mom spent fifteen years hoping.” He turns off the highway.

“Turn right at the second stop sign.”

And it hits me. This is probably the last time I’ll ever step inside the house we shared. How is that even possible? This morning, on my way to work, I’d thought my biggest concerns were my boring job and wondering if Daniela would remember to run the dishwasher after putting her cereal bowl in it.

“I don’t know how to get my head around this,” I mumble. “I was going to make dinner tonight.”

“Sorry, babydoll,” Alec whispers.

As he turns onto our block, I can’t stop the dark thoughts from coming. My relationship with Daniela had been doomed, but I’d chosen not to see it. I think she was taking the passive-aggressive route—trying to drive me away with her bullshit, so she wouldn’t have to take responsibility for the breakup.

It’s cowardly behavior, and I’m not excusing it. But I wish I’d taken the hint a whole lot faster.

“This is the place?” Alec asks as he kills the engine.

“Yeah.” God, I don’t want to get out of the truck. I just want to crawl under a quilt in my family’s TV den and hide. Preferably with a jug of wine.

But we can’t always get what we want. And Alec is waiting, his big brown eyes worried.

So I get out, putting one foot in front of the other until I’m standing on our little wooden porch. I let myself in with my key, and then jam a thumbnail into the keyring so I can work off the key and leave it behind.

“You sure you won’t need to come back?” Alec asks me. “For mail? Forgotten items?”

I hesitate. He’s right. So I keep the key.

“Are you on the lease?” he asks. “Any utilities in your name?”

I shake my head. This place was Daniela’s house before it was mine.

“Good. So that part is easy.” He pushes a lock of hair out of my face and smiles at me. “Come on then, let’s see how quickly we can change your life. Got a duffel bag? And if you run out of space, there’s always the time-honored luggage of high-class relationship fleeing.”

“What’s that?”

“Garbage bags.”

“Oh, Alec.” I snort, and then I laugh.

I’m twenty-seven years old, barely employed, and just a few minutes from hauling all my possessions out of my ex’s house. In garbage bags. Because I only have one suitcase, and it will quickly fill up with law school textbooks.

Alec gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Let’s go. Thinking too hard won’t be helpful right now. Show me your books. You’ll do the clothes.”

We get to work.

If you’d have asked me to name a dozen people who might someday move me out of Daniela’s house, Alec Rossi would never had made the list. But I let myself forget that this is the weirdest night of my life and I do exactly as he says. I pack up my clothes and shoes, while he stacks my books in empty boxes I scare up from the garage.