The regret in his voice makes my tears well up again. This whole thing is my fault. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I really thought it would work. I tried my hardest, I gave this everything I had, and—”

“Shhh,” he says, pulling me against him. He kisses my head; strokes my hair. “It’s not your fault. Let’s just be glad I have something else to fall back on.”

I hear his unspoken words: Because you don’t.

It’s true; I have nothing else, no other job, no direction, and it’s so completely Ryan for him to consider that. But nothing will be the same if we’re separated—with both of us in new positions, launching new stores, we’ll be lucky to get the same day off at the same time. That’s no way to start a new relationship. Surely he knows this.

Unless…maybe he wants some distance from me.

I try to brush the thought aside, but it sticks in my mind like a splinter. Since our first night together, we’ve had countless discussions about our future as it pertains to the bookstore—but nothing about us. Our relationship. Now here we are, facing a crossroads, and he’s taking a detour.

He’ll only be a few hours away, I remind myself. He’s trying to do what’s best for both of us. Ryan Lawson is the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met; he would never hurt me on purpose. I know this. But my logical brain doesn’t stand a chance against the old, familiar feelings of abandonment bubbling up. The feeling I used to get when Mom would disappear without warning, leaving me to figure everything out alone.

The same tightness grips my chest now, making it difficult to breathe. I know Ryan isn’t Mom, but the scared kid inside me is panicking, terrified of being left behind again. I’m spiraling, drowning, and I can’t seem to stop. Ryan’s leaving. He’s leaving the store, he’s leaving me, and my heart feels like it’s ripping apart.

My mother’s face flashes in my mind. Her desperate need to prove that permanence and stability and everlasting devotion aren’t just plot devices. I’ve never believed in any of that. Why would I? I’ve never seen any evidence that it’s real. Like I told Mom when she was in Mexico, left behind by yet another man: If he loved you, he wouldn’t leave you.

If Ryan loved me…

Abruptly, I stand and walk toward the windows. Tears blur my vision. Georgia pointed out that I’ve never had much of an emotional connection to anyone I’ve dated. Well, there’s a reason for that—I’ve never allowed myself to care too much.

And god, it’s so much easier that way.