Later that night, I held her in my arms, tighter than I ever had before. My mind raced relentlessly.

First, it replayed every memory Frankie and I had made together in our short time here. From that first kiss at the bar, to her failed attempt at snowboarding, to sleeping in a tent underneath the stars together.

I had imagined Key Ridge would be an unforgettable experience filled with incredible outdoor activities and one extreme sport after another. Reflecting back on it all, it would have been nothing without her.

My thoughts drifted to her in New York. Wearing some business-casual outfit and holding a to-go coffee mug as she raced to her new office. It was a side of Frankie I had never known, but that was the real her, apparently. She’d go on to have this perfect life that had nothing to do with me. She’d go apartment hunting. She’d find her new favorite restaurant. She’d meet new people. She’d date. I grimaced at the thought. She was still wrapped in my arms, and I still found myself being preemptively jealous of the next guy who would get to hold her like this.

She was my fucking girl.

Letting her go would be the hardest thing I’d ever done. My mind was starting to grow blank—forgetting every reason we couldn’t be together. Was changing for a girl really the end of the world?

I attempted to picture myself in New York, showing up in a polo and khakis to an interview for some entry-level office job that I likely wouldn’t land due to lack of experience. My entire being repelled that idea. But an idea my body found even more objectionable was never holding Frankie again.

I was in love with this girl.

There was no use in trying to deny the fact, especially within my own brain. Even though I had zero experience when it came to these things, I knew she was everything. Love wasn’t something you could block out. Maybe I wouldn’t say it out loud, but it was there.

What was that old saying? If you loved something, let it go.

And unfortunately, I loved Frankie so much that I would indeed be letting her go tomorrow.

The drive back to her sister’s house the next morning was quiet. Our fingers were loosely threaded together, resting in my lap. I kept sneaking glances at her, only to find her staring at me each time.

She was right not to let me drive her to the airport. This alone was already too difficult.

The goodbye had to happen sometime.

As we pulled into the driveway, every muscle in my body seized. This was it. As much as I’d tried to put this moment out of my mind, it was here. Throughout my life, I’d always managed to plaster on a smile no matter what—in awkward times, hard times, sad times, you name it. Making light of a situation was how I’d dealt with every problem.