Grabbing his coat that had fallen to the floor with the chair, he pulled out his wallet and slapped a $100 bill on the table.

“Hey, where are you going?”

Instead of answering me, he turned and left. Frantically grabbing my purse, he was already halfway out of the restaurant before I shrugged into my wool jacket, chasing after him. I hadn’t expected him to get up and leave. We always talked through things, but I had crossed an invisible line I didn’t know existed until now.

“Oliver, please stop!” I begged.

“I told you, I’m done. I’m calling a taxi.”

By now we were standing in the parking lot, the chill wind snapping the hem of my skirt around my calves. “Do you mean an Uber? I don’t even know if they have taxis around here anymore.”

“An Uber, whatever.” He turned on me, eyes boring into me. “I’m so sick of everything being everyone else’s fault when we all protected you. You could have gone to jail, Felicity, but we covered for you years ago. And I still cover for you today. And how do you repay me? By blaming Marin, me, Cody…everyone but yourself for what happened. I could handle what you did before, but this…the secrets and lies and obsessive behavior…I just can’t. I’m done.”

Oliver pulled out his phone and slammed his finger on the screen, I assumed looking up a nonexistent taxi service.

“Are you coming home tonight?”

“I don’t know, Felicity. I can’t be around you right now. And don’t go looking for me. I’m not ready to be found.” He circled back to the restaurant entrance as he placed the phone to his ear.

Through stinging tears I found the car, almost missing the ticket tucked under the windshield wiper. I pulled it out, wondering why on earth I would get ticketed in the parking lot. I swiped away the wetness dampening my eyes, noticing that one edge was torn, as if ripped from a notebook.

Or a journal.

“Oliver!”

He glanced up at me, then returned to his phone call.

“Oliver! You need to see this!”

By the tone in my voice, he knew this was serious. Pocketing the phone, he rushed across the pavement, fancy footwork saving him from getting hit by a car backing up.

“Look—read this.”

I held out the paper, watched his eyes hop across the bubbly handwritten words like skipping stones: