He laughs. “Right. You love freedom. You love to travel. You are just like everyone else I’ve loved, you love to leave.”

My lip trembles as I stare at him. He’s angry—I get it. It’s why I didn’t want to say anything, but this is ridiculous. “You’re hurting me because you’re in pain.”

“I’m waking up from the fog, that’s what’s happening. I was so fucking desperate to love you that I convinced myself it was all real. You’re cleared, Jess. Go. Just go.”

I’m stunned. Absolutely fucking stunned. Who is this man? The one who needed me is now pushing me away. “This is what you want? To push me away when I’m clinging to you? How does this make sense? I’m telling you I want to stay, and you’re not listening! I want you and us and Amelia and this . . .”

“I’m telling you to go. Go back to the life you left, and we’ll go back to ours. Just as it should’ve been.”

“So, because you’re afraid, you’re pushing me out?”

Grayson turns. “I’m not afraid. I’m realistic. I watched you walk away once. I watched Yvonne do the same. This clearance is the excuse we both needed and knew was coming. There’s no reason for you to stay, and I’d rather you go now before we break my daughter’s heart too. We’re done, and I’ll be just fine. It’s not like we had plans.”

My hands move to my stomach as the knot grows there. Only it’s not a knot, it’s a baby—our baby. I think about how tonight was supposed to go and how horribly wrong it went. The things he’s saying, though, I can’t stand here and listen to any more. He’s ripping me apart, and I have to stop it.

Tears fall unabashed as the pain lances through my heart. “I was never leaving you. I was sharing with you.”

He turns his back to me. “No one ever stays. Why would you be any different?” He laughs once. “I fucking knew it, I was just a fool.”

“No, you’re an asshole,” I say as I gather my clothes, getting dressed because, no matter what, I don’t deserve this.

I send an emergency text to Delia, asking her to come get me, which she replies almost instantly to, telling me that she’ll be here in five.

Once I’m dressed, I walk toward the door, feeling so much pain it hurts to breathe. I stop, hoping he’ll at least look at me. But Grayson doesn’t turn, he just stands, looking out the windows, his back to me.

“So, this is it?” I ask.

“I’m doing what you did before. I’m walking away before you get the chance to do it to me.”