“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands, surprised by the crassness of her comment. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s really narcissistic of you to think you caused her death,” she continued in the same strong voice that left no confusion about how she felt.

“How is that narcissistic?”

“Jack,” she said, as she slid back into full shrink mode again. “You took her to the mountains. You brought her to a safe place for her. You gave her bad news in the most loving way possible, given the circumstances. You did the best you could and no one the whole world over would think an Olympic skier couldn’t handle that run,” she said, giving voice to his own justifications. That is why he’d taken Aubrey to Breckenridge. He’d thought he was giving her a safe landing. Could it be that he was right? That he had? That the rest was simply—

“It’s called luck,” she continued, filling in the questions that were in his head. “It’s called a risk. You didn’t cause her death, and you need to get that out of your head right now.”

With her words, he felt the heavy weight lift. He didn’t know it until now, but he had been seeking absolution. He had wanted to be washed clean of his regret. He’d needed to hear that sometimes, terrible things happen, and you don’t cause them because of what you said fifteen minutes before. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say the hard things.

“So we’re okay then?” he asked, the world seeming to come into focus again. The sun dared to shine through the window, the sounds of an early Paris morning floating into the room. They could have their croissants, get a coffee, go to a museum, find a secret nook . . .

She laughed once, then shook her head. “Not so fast.”

“Wait. You just said you understood,” he said, furrowing his brow. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t bear it. She was his anchor. She was his sanity.

“I do understand. I understand as a therapist. I understand as a professional. But as a woman who loves you? It’s a lot harder. I understand in my head, but my heart wants to retreat,” she said, placing her hand on her chest, already shielding her own heart from him. From the way he could wield malice without even trying, apparently. “And not simply because of what you told me. Because I don’t want to be part of a pattern. I don’t want to be the next woman you care for, but don’t love. I know you were only doing what you learned. But I’ve been putting myself on the line for far too long. This isn’t separate for me any longer, Jack. I wish it were. I truly wish I didn’t feel all that I do for you. But it happened. I fell in love with you, and I need to really think about whether I want to keep putting myself out there when you’re not even sure if you know how to love,” she said, reaching across the table, and grasping his hands. “I have given you my whole heart, all of my body, and everything in my soul. And I have never felt so wanted. But I need to be loved.”