His eyes locked somewhere in the distance. What was he seeing? “No. No, the best memory was when we went to Disneyland.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “We got there at opening and spent the day going between the parks, and we had a competition going over who could get the most ridiculous PhotoPass picture. Then we watched World of Color, and I told her I loved her.”

An excursion that could be extended or cut short depending on how it was going. Lots of things to do. Memories to talk about to stir up nostalgia. Plenty of opportunities to change pace, and do something distracting if things turned awkward or the conversation died. Lots of chances for physical contact and intimacy.

It was perfect.

I lowered the pen. This didn’t need to go on the board. I could visualize it all now. I had the whole plan in my head. “How long has it been since you talked to Winona?”

Brougham went back to staring into the distance. When he replied, he spoke slower than usual, enunciating carefully. “I may have been acting petty.”

“Can you be more specific here?”

“I decided if we were going to speak again, she’d have to reach out. Because she was the one who dumped me, you know? At first, I hoped she was bluffing and she’d crack, or regret it or whatever. But then I realized she’s not gonna reach out, and I probably blew it by going silent for a month, so I asked you for help.”

Usually, when I got a letter, I accepted everything the writer told me at face value. There was a certain freedom that came with spilling your guts anonymously, and people often confessed to some pretty bad behavior. But face-to-face was different, and something wasn’t adding up with Brougham’s version of events. He and Winona had shared a great relationship, then she dumped him out of nowhere, and he decided to stop talking to her for a month in response? Nope. My bullshit meter was red-hot.

There was one possible explanation, though.

The first time I’d read about commitment-phobes, I’d been surprised to find they didn’t present as loner, anti-commitment types. In fact, I’d learned that often, they were romantics, who believed in “The One,” but would inevitably decide the person they were with didn’t meet their criteria around the time the relationship started settling in for the long haul. Then they’d grow cold and distant, push their partner away, and—even stranger—often idolize their partner in hindsight and want them back after the breakup. Until, of course, things got too serious again.