“Why? You don’t want that level of attachment. She’s starting to expect things, and you don’t want anyone to expect things from you. You’ve told me that often enough.”

“So you’re going to tell her I won’t read her a story? Is that fair?”

The words goaded her temper. She thought back to the hospital, with Lizzy sick and missing him. “What’s not fair is you telling her you love her. Behaving as if she’s important in your life.”

“She’s a sweet kid, and—”

“Yes, she’s a sweet kid, but we both know you’re not interested in kids, Ryan, no matter how sweet they are. You’ve made that perfectly clear, and I respect that, but then you confuse everything by saying you love her!”

“You’re overreacting. She was sick. She needed reassurance and I gave it. It’s as simple as that.”

“It’s not simple. Thanks to you, it’s complicated! And she didn’t need lies! What happens when she’s well, Ryan? Have you thought about that?”

“We’ll handle that when she’s well.”

“I’ll be the one who has to handle it. I’ll be the one who will have to answer questions about where you are and why you don’t want to spend time with her. I’ll be the one who has to handle a child who feels miserable and let down, who has expectations that are never met.” Her voice rose. “We both know this relationship of ours is just for fun, but that isn’t how she sees it. What’s going to happen when you’ve had enough of teaching her knots and taking her to see the puffins? She’s a child. She doesn’t understand the complexity of adult relationships. Children need consistency. They need to know where they stand. Love can’t be given and then withdrawn. It doesn’t come and go like the tide. I appreciate you bringing us home. It was kind of you, but now it’s over.”

But instead of walking away, Ryan strode across the room and took her face in his hands. “And what about us?” His eyes demanded all the answers she wasn’t voicing. “You’ve talked a lot about Lizzy, but what about us?”

Dreams flitted into her head, and she pushed them brutally aside.