“It’s sweet, that’s all.”

“You’re on his side?”

Her tiny beat of silence communicates the magnitude of her disbelief. “You’re telling me there was absolutely no swooning when he told you that?”

“You just don’t like Sean.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the first guy who’s managed to last beyond three dates; of course I like him. He deserves my esteem for beating that record.”

I am so tired, I can feel the unreasonable coming out. Tight defensiveness rises up in my chest, kick-starting my pulse. “Okay, let me clarify: you don’t want me to marry Sean.”

“Macy, honey, I don’t want you to marry Sean—yet—that’s true. But that’s unrelated to me also wanting you to reconnect with Elliot. I adore you, you know this, but you’ve told me what it was like when your mom died. How hard you worked to keep everyone out or at arm’s length—a can of worms we could totally open up, if you have the time—”

“Sabrina.”

“My point is that you could never shut out Elliot. He’s your soul mate. You think I don’t know that?”

I nod, walking again. I’ve been on my feet for so long that my toes are numb in my shoes. I’m essentially just shuffling slowly uphill. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, honey,” she says gently.

“And there’s something else,” I say, hesitating.

“Yeah?”

“He didn’t know about my dad.” The truth of that one still stings.

Sabrina gasps. “What?”

“I know. That part’s all my fault, I get that.” I rub my face. “I just assumed he would have heard about it . . . through the grapevine.”

She’s gone quiet, and it’s the quiet that nearly breaks me because, holy hell, I am a monster. Sabrina must be thinking for the thousandth time that I am dead inside.

“You’d be fine if his parents died,” she begins slowly, “and he didn’t at least try to get in touch with you?”

Miss Dina’s warm eyes and soft face with deep dimples flicker through my thoughts, sending a spike of pain through me. “I know, I see your point.”

Sabrina’s silent again; I hate having this conversation over the phone. I want the reassuring presence of her on the couch next to me.

“I’m not sure Elliot and I could just be friends.”

She huffs out a breath. “I think it’s worth a try.”

Would I even be able to stay away? If I’m honest, wasn’t part of the appeal of moving back here to be closer to what he and I once had, somehow?

“You really think it’s a good idea for me to reconnect with him?” I ask.

“I’ve always thought that.”

“How?” I hear how small my voice seems and pull out my keys, propping my phone between my ear and shoulder when I drop them to the dark porch. “We had breakfast and I bolted. I don’t have his number or address. No way does he have Facebook or Twitter or anything. Normal modes of stalking are out.”