“Where I please.” She glanced back. “I was your lover, Liam, but never your partner. I won’t settle for that, not even for you.” She let out a quiet breath, studying him in the shifting light. “You had my heart in your hands,” she murmured. “And you didn’t know what to do with it. I can tell you, without the crystal ball, without the gift, you’ll never have another like it.”

As she slipped away from him, he knew it was not only prophecy; it was truth.

*  *  *

It took her a week to deal with the practicalities. San Francisco hadn’t changed in the months she’d been gone, nor in the days she’d been back. But she had.

She could look out her window now, at the city, and realize it hadn’t been the place that had dissatisfied her, but her place in it. It was doubtful she’d ever live there again, but she thought she could look back and find memories—good and bad. Life was made up of both.

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Rowan?” Belinda asked. She was a graceful woman, with dark hair, short as a pixie’s, and eyes of misty green.

Rowan glanced up from her packing and looked into Belinda’s concerned face. “No, but I’m doing it just the same.”

Rowan had changed, Belinda mused. She was certainly stronger, more than a little wounded. Guilt nagged at her. “I feel some responsibility in this.”

“No.” Rowan said it firmly, and smoothed a sweater into her suitcase. “You’re not responsible.”

Restless, Belinda wandered to the window. The bedroom was nearly empty now. She knew Rowan had given many of her things away, stored others. In the morning, she would be gone. “I sent you there.”

“No, I asked if I could use your cabin.”

Belinda turned. “There were things I could have told you.”

“You weren’t meant to—I understand that, Belinda.”

“If I’d known Liam would be such a jackass, I—” She broke off, scowled. “I should have. I’ve known him all my life. A more stubborn, thickheaded, irritating man has yet to be born.” Then she sighed. “But he’s kind with it, and most of his stubbornness comes from caring so much.”

“You don’t have to explain him to me. If he’d trusted me, believed in me, things might be different.” She took the last of her clothes from the closet, laid them on the bed. “If he’d loved me, everything would be different.”

“Are you so sure he doesn’t?”

“I’ve decided the only thing I can be sure of is myself. It was the hardest and most valuable thing I learned while I was away. Do you want this blouse? It never flattered me.”

“It’s more my color than yours.” Belinda wandered over, laid a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Did you speak with your parents?”