I take a deep breath. “We need to talk later, but for now, I want to say, I wasn’t clear earlier. You misunderstood what I was trying to say. I do want to give us a chance. I just think I need some time first to work on myself.” I blurt it all out before I can second guess myself or chicken out.

His eyes are focused on me in that intent way he has. “Work on yourself how?”

I dredge up my last remaining shreds of courage. Damn it, this is so hard to say.

“I’m going to go to rehab for a while.”

Silence. Nothing but his gaze and silence.

Then he nods and pulls me into his arms. “I think that’s a brave thing to do.”

I step back and look up at him. “You do?”

“I really do.”

I study his face. “You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“You should be happy for yourself. Rehab means you won’t be getting messy me, but put together me.”

“Rehab means I won’t be getting any you.”

Anger flares in me. “What do you mean? You won’t be willing to wait for me?”

His eyes soften. “Of course, I’ll wait for you. I’d wait however long it takes. I know, though, that rehab often means people change. In big ways, as well as small. Many relationships end. Some might not even begin at all.”

He gives me a sad smile, but then he tips my chin up. “And that’s okay. If that’s what you need, then you must do this. I will wait for you; I promise you that much.”

His kiss when it comes is tender and full of sorrow. We tumble back into the room together and hit the bed. We shouldn’t do this because we need to be out of here in twenty minutes, but his touch is too much and never enough all at once.

We don’t undress, but without even speaking, we find the quickest route to being together. He pushes my jeans down and my top up, and I unzip him and all the time our lips are locked together. Then he’s inside me and I’m clinging to him, my face now in his neck. All is right in my world for the long, beautiful minutes we move together.

This isn’t sex, this is making love. I blink, not wanting tears to ruin this, and when I come it’s gentle waves that wash over me, threatening to tug me under as he breathes hot and damp against my skin finding his own release.

Afterward, a melancholy mood descends on me as I correct my clothing, smooth my hair, and reapply my lipstick.

That felt like a goodbye.