“Me? Why would I be mad at myself?”

“Well, you’ve always praised yourself for being a levelheaded person. We thought it was a little odd that you never had that normal teenage freak-out most kids have, and honestly, we were kind of looking forward to it after a while. We kept waiting for you to announce you were switching colleges and running off to New York to marry Tyler or something equally as crazy. But you never did. You were always so even-keeled. So, maybe this is your moment?”

“You’re comparing this to something a teenager would do?”

“Well, not all of it. But crawling back home when things didn’t go your way? That certainly is.”

“Mom!” I whined. “You’re supposed to fix this!”

“No, I’m not, baby. You left. You packed up your things, moved away, and declared yourself an adult, remember? Now, it’s time to act like one. If you want me to talk to you like the adult I believe you are, I’m happy to do that, but stop expecting me to fix everything.”

I took a deep breath, realizing she was right.

So right.

I had moved away. Declared myself an adult.

Even I knew, I was being ridiculous. Hiding myself inside my parents’ house wasn’t the answer.

I had made a life in New York, and sooner or later, I’d have to go back.

“I’m mad he didn’t fight for me,” I finally admitted.

“See? Now, we’re getting somewhere. Fight for you how?”

“When I confronted him about everything. I went to him and told him everything Lauren had said to me, and he just sat there, defeated. Like he’d already known exactly what would happen. Like he’d already said good-bye to me.”

My mind flashed back to the night before, how frantic he’d been one minute as we made love, only to stop and savor each second after.

Maybe he’d already said good-bye.

“You didn’t want it to end then? Despite what he did?” my mother asked.

I thought about it, about everything I’d felt over the last twenty-four-plus hours. Hurt, pain, anger, and even fear. I was mad at him. I was angry that he hadn’t just let me figure out my own feelings, so I could have walked away from Tyler when I was ready. Roman had caused me pain by meddling in my breakup with Tyler, this was true, but it was not as much as when I’d walked out of that office door and he hadn’t followed.

He should have followed.

He should have fought for me.

He should have fought for us.

“Can you imagine your life without him? Like I did with your father all those years ago? Can you look ahead—six months from now… a year, three years—and imagine what life would be like without him? Are you happy? Or filled with holes?”