Kai looks at me, and it’s almost as if we’re strangers. There’s this emptiness and coolness, and I don’t want it. I want him. I really dig this guy, but he doesn’t leave the island and I live on the mainland and I can’t keep coming back and forth. It’s not practical. Not feasible. I don’t have the time, the energy, or the money.

If there were a way this could work, if he could meet me partway… But this relationship will always be on me. I’ll be responsible for getting here and making the time and arranging the child care. And I can’t take on responsibility for one more thing. I’m too tired. Too stressed. Too hurt.

The ice around my heart hardens, tightens, and it feels so thick and cold and unforgiving, and I hate it. I hate that I feel so much here with Kai, how I’ve loved these visits and each and every day spent with him, hate that I can want someone this much and can’t make it work.

Hate that it’s going to end this way.

Hate that I can’t find the words to say what I’d like to say.

But how would words change anything, anyway? How would telling him that I dig him, want him, just possibly might love him, help to change our jobs, our ages, our backgrounds, our income?

He’s not going to move to Seattle and become a stepdad to my children. And I’m not going to move to Hawaii and become a surfer’s girlfriend.

“I’m out of here, then,” Kai says.

I feel a cracking in the ice, I feel heat behind the terrible cold. Tears nearly fill my eyes, but I won’t let them. Won’t. I won’t let him see how hard this is for me. I’m an adult, must behave like an adult. Despite everything. “Okay.”

Kai can’t even look at me. “Let me know how she is.”

“I will.” My voice breaks despite my best effort.

“She’s going to be fine, Jackie.”

I nod. “I’ll just feel better when I get there, when I can see her.” The heat grows, and I’m starting to crack, melt, control precarious. “I miss her. Miss William, too.”

“Soon, girl.”

I nod, once, a jerky nod, and he’s gone. Like that. No hug. No last touch. Nothing.

I hear the hotel door close, and the tears start falling. I can’t let him just go like this, I can’t let him think I don’t care. I race to the door, look down the hall, but he’s not at the elevator. He’s gone.

It’s done.

I won’t cry. Crying won’t solve anything. I lift the phone, call the bell desk, ask for help.