Worry replaced her anger as she held up both palms in appeal. “Slow down. We always knew we would encounter bumpy times, but you can’t just walk away. I can change. I can move to the Five Points.”

She had tried to change for her first husband, and it had been a disaster. His anger drained away, replaced by aching poignancy.

“I don’t want you to change,” he said. “You’re perfect just as you are. I may not think much of your family, but as I watched you on the beach, playing with the children and spreading optimism and beauty wherever you went . . . it would be a crime to change that.”

“I can be that way in the Five Points.”

He shook his head. “Your house has a two-acre garden where you hold soirees and grow healing herbs and heirloom roses. In the Five Points, the best I could offer you is a windowsill.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and her voice was so soft he could barely hear it. “I would make it a beautiful windowsill.”

He touched the side of her face. “I have no doubt of that, but we should cut our losses now and go our separate ways.”

Gwen rallied, a spark of energy straightening her spine and strengthening her voice. “You’re letting pride stand in the way of what we could have. Since we met, I have felt more alive, more driven, and more excited to face each day. Don’t throw away what we could be together.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “A thousand times, I’m sorry. It was my fault for leading you to believe that I could fit into this world. I’m sorry that I can’t. And I think we need to end things before I hurt you even more.”

She winced but didn’t look away. “Jasper hurt me. He let me down, but I didn’t curl up into a ball and stop living. Not then, and not now. I want to build a life with you. What if we try and the worst happens? If it all collapses, I will be hurt and wounded like never before . . . but guess what? I’ll survive. I did before, and I can do it again. Patrick! If we join forces, we can strengthen and nurture each other and do something great with our lives. Save a college? Cure a disease? Rescue people on the verge of eviction and give them hope for another day? I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I don’t want to lose the chance to find out because you’re afraid of Poppy Blackstone’s sharp tongue.”

He bristled. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Prove it,” she said. She glanced toward the water, where the tender was returning. Her look was pointed, challenging him to get on board and sail back to New York with her.

He couldn’t. It would only prolong the inevitable.