“Mom’s sick. I want to swim. Will you watch us?” Ocean shuffles into the kitchen, still in her pink nightshirt.

I cringe. “Well, I don’t want to get sick, and you two squirts don’t need to get sick, so yeah … let’s hang out by the pool today. Have you had lunch?”

She shakes her head.

“Okay. I’ll make some snacks. We’ll eat outside.”

Ocean runs off. “Asher, put on your swimsuit!”

I peek into Sydney’s room. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she mumbles, not opening her eyes or even moving from her fetal position.

“Did you call Dr. Lautner?”

“No. He has a conference today. I’m sick, not dying.”

“Anything I can get you?”

“No. The kids want to swim.”

“I’m on it. Text me if you need anything.”

“A bowl. I need a bowl. In case I don’t make it to the toilet.”

“Eww … Okay.” I get her a bowl, surgically scrub my hands after leaving her room, and change into my bikini.

I perch myself in the shade, on lifeguard duty. As the kids play, I stare at Jake’s texts again. “Why did it have to be you?” I whisper.

Me: Can we do the interview tomorrow?

I stare at my screen for a good five minutes, waiting for a response that’s not coming. As soon as I slip my sunglasses back on, my phone chimes.

Jake: I hired someone this morning. Sorry.

Did I do this to myself? Is this my pride and ego? How do I know where that line is if I can’t see it? And I can’t … I can’t see the line. Everything in my life is blurry.

Grunting a laugh, I shake my head. I honestly thought he was making up the job opening—for me. Because he loves me. Because he’d do anything to keep us connected, even if it’s in a small way like making me his employee halfway across the country. Another epic fail on my part. More bad judgment and inaccurate assumptions.

Me: Glad you found someone.

Jake: Thank you.

Me: You’re welcome.

“Nice, Avery …” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Really? I just had to say you’re welcome. Why? Clearly because I can’t let go.

Jake’s on this infinitely long string, and no matter how far he goes, I will always feel that string connected to my heart, tugging and pulling. Reminding me that what we had was real.

“What we had was real.” My hand presses to my chest.

My phone chimes again.

Jake: If you need your own space, or if you get evicted from your sister’s house, you can stay in my loft while I’m in Milwaukee.