“I’m so sorry.” Brushing away tears, she spun and escaped into the dark hallway. Her hair fell in tangles before her eyes. She shoved it aside and grappled for the front door latch.

“Wait!”

His footsteps rang in quick succession at her back. Yanking open the door, she flew onto the porch, down the steps, and into the moonlight. She drank the night air like ice water and refused to look back.

“Tessa!” His voice echoed from ridge to ridge in the windless night. “You took the box.”

“What?” She whirled. “No, I didn’t.” He stood in the doorway—the doorway of their house—and pointed a trembling finger.

“You took it. Why?”

She dropped her gaze and blinked, unwilling to believe her eyes. “I…I don’t know.” Tripping over her sandals, she lurched toward him, thrusting out the box. “Here! Take it back.”

“Keep it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Keep it, and we’ll talk later.”

“But it’s yours.”

He shook his head. “It was a gift.”

At a complete loss for words, she stared through the moonglow.

A single cricket chirped.

Richard’s jaw was soft and slack. His trademark confidence abandoned him.

He met her gaze. “I love you.”

His voice was so ragged she almost didn’t recognize it. Tears pooled, and her vision blurred. With a quick nod, she clasped the box to her breast, wheeled, and fled. After several long minutes, the front door slammed, and her belly clenched in a sob.

Unseeing, she quickened her pace, the box turning to pulp in her hand. Why did she take the darned thing? She could have dropped it in the driveway or left it on the hood of his car. But she didn’t. For whatever reason, she couldn’t.

She imagined him alone, mopping up wine and blowing out candles one by one. Another sob wracked her chest like a blow. She was running now, up and down the rolling hills toward home. Trees loomed black against the indigo sky. Spiky weeds sliced her calves. Her sandals pounded across a low, metal bridge, drowning out the rushing brook below. She dragged a forearm across her eyes and pressed on.

She wept for Richard—because she broke his heart when he offered it, and he didn’t deserve that. She wept for herself—because in saying no, she broke her own heart just a little bit, too.

But never once did she question her actions. She knew exactly what choice she made. She recalled the moment—the singular instant when his fingers found hers, and she could have given in. Breathless and running, she felt him again like a warm tug in her belly. Intoxicated by the night and his words, she could have lain back on that blanket and surrendered to his vision for their life. Saying yes would have been so easy.