Humiliated. My legs trembled as I got up. I would leave. I would walk away, and she would never see me again.

But if I left, I’d never see her again either.

She hadn’t moved. Her jaw was clenched tight as she stared down at the ground. Red splotches grew on her cheeks. I heard the kids shrieking in the park nearby.

I couldn’t leave like this. I sat down beside her, letting my bag slide off my shoulder onto the bench.

I felt so small.

“Did you even like me?” I asked. The words hurt.

“Of course I liked you,” she said immediately.

My heart in my throat.

“Don’t even—” She stopped, exhaling. “Look, I’ve been with—I was with Lisa for three and half years, and I loved her, but it wasn’t working for a long time. And then you came along, and you—” She rubbed a hand over her face. The black cuff of her sleeve was rolled back, and I saw the tail of the koi tattoo curling over her wrist. “You were new, and you liked my music, and you liked me. I felt like you saw me. I really needed that.”

“I do see you,” I said thickly.

“But I need to see myself,” she said, meeting my eyes.

Like diving into the deep.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she said quietly. “I hurt Lisa so much, and I never wanted to do that. Like Joan said—” Her voice broke. “I have to do what my heart desires, and I don’t know what that is anymore. For so long I told myself I loved Lisa more than I wanted to make music, but I was lying to myself. I always knew I was lying. What kind of person wants something they might never have more than the person who loves them?”

I ached for her. “People have dreams,” I said. “They’re not wrong.”

“How do I know it’s not a fantasy?” she asked.

Joan would know the answer, but I did not. My eyes went hot.

“I have to figure my shit out,” Steph said.

“You will,” I said. “I can be here for you.”

“No,” she said sadly.

I remembered the first time she had touched me, her fingers plucking the oak leaf from my hair. I remembered the look in her eye, just like the one she had now, and I realized she had been afraid from that very first moment that something like this would happen.

“You’re right,” she said. “You never lied to me, but I lied to you. I used you, and I can’t be with you knowing that I did that to you.”

No ground beneath me. “But I’m in love with you,” I whispered.

“No, you’re not,” she said gently.

Plummeting.