Sometimes, yes. What kind of person would I be if I'd dated someone for three years and had been waiting to leave the whole time? No, Harry was sweet. He was considerate. He was a good—if not varied—cook, and he'd always treated me as his equal. He gave me back rubs when I had cramps, without being prompted, and took time to get to know my tastes in music and books. I did love Harry.

I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life loving Harry.

"It's not a yes or no," I said.

Harry's eyes widened, and I took in a deep breath.

"Not always. Not forever," I admitted softly.

It was almost true. A part of me hadn't been ready to give up the ease of my life with Harry. It wasn't fair to him, especially not now. No matter what discomfort came next for me, I knew I was the villain of the story in this moment.

Harry's golden skin turned pale and ashy, and his eyes lifted to the full room around us for the first time since he'd taken that horrifying bend to his knee minutes ago. Suddenly aware of our audience, Harry sank into his seat.

No, Harry wouldn't make a scene. His temper wouldn't flare.

"You said..." Harry blinked at me.

I'd said we weren't ready. "I should've said more. Sooner. I just… I didn't know if I was sure." I bit my lip immediately. No excuses.

"Sonya, you're never sure!" Harry spat in a whisper.

I flinched back, gaping at him. "What?"

"You hate making decisions, you always leave things up to me! I thought… I assumed—" Harry paled again after the outburst and shook his head.

Was that true? No, I made decisions all the time! I ran my own social media brand and independent business, offered advice to others, directed my own career. It was only that with Harry, the options offered were never very interesting.

Harry's eyes narrowed on me. He knew me well enough, even with all I'd kept from him, to read my expression.

"Well? What do you want to do now?" he asked.

And there it was, on the tip of my tongue. I don't know. What do you want to do?

Huh. Was he right? Did I shy away from big decisions? A year into dating, he'd asked if I wanted him to move in and I'd…left the decision up to him.

"I'm going home and I'm packing a bag," Harry snapped.

My shoulders sagged with relief. Okay, so maybe Harry was right.

"You're paying for dinner. And calling a ride. Give me… Just give me an hour to get my things without you there. Enough for a few days. I'll move out as soon as I'm able," Harry said.