I blink rapidly, not sure if I want to laugh or cry. What comes out of me is some kind of cackle-sob combination that sounds more like an animal dying than a human emotion. Which actually feels appropriate. I am just an animal, and I feel like I’m dying. Surely even death doesn’t hurt this bad.

“How dare you,” I say when I can find my words again. “I admitted I made a mistake. I said I was wrong. I’ve said it a million times since I saw you at Anastasios, and I guess I’ll say it a million more if that’s what it takes. But if you think for one second that I did any of this for me—any of it—you’ve lost your mind. Do you think I liked being alone for five years with only my agent and my therapist to talk to? Do you think it was fun for me to bleed while watching men in expensive suits with dollar signs for eyes make major decisions about my career without my input? Do you think I laughed as I blacklisted myself, lost my best friends because of it, and had to come to terms with the fact that you loved me so much that you’d throw your own career away just to be with me? I walked away for you, Ryan. So you could at least have one thing left when the dust settled.” I’m screaming now, tears streaming down my cheeks again and landing on the pavement in front of me.

I want him to explode back at me. For some reason, I think it might be cathartic to scream at each other again, like we did outside of that tapas place. But he doesn’t. Instead, he nods.

“You’re right,” he says simply. And with those two words, I can physically feel my heart breaking in two. I’m right. I was right that he’d end his career for me, and I was right to walk away.

It takes all my effort not to crumple into a ball right there on top of my tears on the pavement and sob. I was never a crier before this. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I cried before Ryan came back into my life. And yet, now it’s like all of those emotions have burst out of wherever I buried them and are lingering right on the surface, ready to take over at any second.

But Ryan rests his hands on my shoulders, dragging them down my upper arms. Goose bumps come to life under my sleeves at his touch, and when he rests his forehead on mine, I let out a relieved breath. I didn’t even know this is what I needed, but he did. He always knows.