“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yet you punished me as if I did.” I scoff and look away. “God only knows why you left, but it took me visiting your mom for it to finally sink in.” I glare right into his eyes. “You left me. You left me to fend for myself—”

“Don’t twist it. I left so you didn’t have to fend at all. Those four years were laid out perfectly for you. It was the perfect plan, and it worked.”

Lost on this line of reasoning, I ask, “What worked?”

“You became a doctor.”

“Oh my God, Harbor. Just stop.” I throw my arms out in frustration. “Please stop with the riddles and nonsense. I’m a doctor because I earned my way into medical school and my scholarship. You don’t get to take that away from me.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t. It’s your accomplishments that got you here, Lark. It truly is, but I’d like a chance to explain.”

“No, you had that and blew it.” I take a breath and exhale, lowering my voice. “Good—”

“Give me one more chance, baby.” And I thought I went low . . .

I hate him for saying that name. Though, I’ll be savoring the sound of him calling me baby for months and years to come.

Raising my finger, I’m about to tell him exactly how that will never happen. But I don’t. I can’t. I lower my finger because I still stupidly have feelings for this man. That’s why I’m so affected by him. I can fight this attraction and reject any feelings that still exist for him, but that sounds like I’m being punished for his sins instead of the other way around.

There’s no way destiny wants us together again. It’s been proven time and time again. So why should I give him another chance? This isn’t some movie. He’s not coming to sweep me off my feet. This is real life. The damage has been done that’s beyond repair.

And what if I did give him that chance?

I barely survived him the first time. I won’t survive losing him twice, but the scars will deepen.

“Please, Lark. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m asking anyway. Give me one more chance to make this right.”

Nothing about this makes sense. Why aren’t my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in? I’m not flighting or fighting. I’m leaning in, wondering if we spend some time together . . .

“Not today. I’m in no position in life to take . . .” I wave my hands in front of me. “This on, to take you on. If you want another chance, then you find me in a year, and I’ll listen. That’s all I can promise.”

A wry grin spreads his cheeks, and he says, “And I can promise you that you won’t regret this decision. I’ll see you in one year.”

I lick my lips and raise my chin. “And if at that time, I never want to see you again, then you’ll walk away, and that’s it, right? No showing up unannounced or sending me gifts. No contact at all. Agreed?” I hold out my hand.