“If only there was a bridge I could jump off,” I joke with her. I don’t tell her that I’ve cried every single night. I don’t tell her that no matter how many times I tell myself not to think about him, it usually lasts maybe three minutes before another memory I’ve buried assaults me. I don’t tell her that I moved out of my bedroom and into the spare room at night because just the thought of sleeping in the bed we used to sleep in makes my chest get tight. I don’t tell her that I’ve had five panic attacks since my last one. I keep it to myself, just as I have everything else.

“Seriously.” She takes another sip. “He holds me all night long.”

“How are you sleeping?” I ask, and she looks down at her hands.

“I’ve never slept better,” she says softly. “I mean, I’m leaving, so it’s stupid to get involved.” She fidgets with the label on the wine. “Maybe it’s a good thing.”

“He’s never going to leave the farm,” I say. “It’s his baby.”

“I would never expect him to.” She looks at me as the door opens, and the man of the hour comes in.

“Hey there,” he says. Tossing his baseball hat on the table, he bends down and kisses me on the cheek, then walks to her. I’m waiting to see what she does, and instead of just waiting for him to kiss her, she tilts her head, offering him her cheek. “Darlin’.” His southern voice comes out.

“Casey.” She says his name, and he looks at me.

“I didn’t do anything.” I hold up my hands.

“I want to go out,” Olivia says, and Casey puts his head back and rubs his face. “I want to get out of here and go out and see people.”

“You see people here,” Casey says, going to the fridge and grabbing a water bottle. “You can come down to the barn.”

“Casey.” She gets up, and I have to say she is dressing more country. She wears her tight blue jeans and tank top. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she has just a touch of mascara on. I want to point out the ways she has actually changed in the past four days, but I’m not sure she is ready for it. “I want to go out and I don’t know, dance.”

Casey looks over at me. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We can go …” She snaps her fingers. “Line dancing.”

Casey and I both groan. “There has to be a bar in this town.”

“Oh, there is a bar, all right,” I say, and her eyes light up. “We actually can go.”

“I don’t think you want to go there,” Casey says, avoiding my eyes.