The word done rang in her head like a deafening bell, filling her with shame. In ten years, she had managed to find herself in exactly the same place, sabotaging her chance at happiness with the only man she had ever loved. She felt heavy and slack with embarrassment, truly humbled for the first time since their car ride. “Fine.” She breathed, extending her open hand for the necklace. “You’re right.”

In her spiraling, she hadn’t noticed him get close enough that he could reach out and touch her, knuckles white around the necklace he still had gripped in his fist. “I was doing really well for ten years, you know? Pretending I never knew you. And I need to go back to doing that.” He paused, considering. “For my own health.”

She knew exactly what he meant—and that it would likely take her another ten to feel close to normal again.

“Okay.” When he didn’t move, she continued, hand still outstretched: “I’m getting a hotel in Corfu, by the way. I’ll meet everyone at the wedding.”

He was still for a moment, wordless, a wave of inscrutable emotion flashing behind his eyes as his jaw tensed. “Why are you telling me that?”

His words were sparse, but she knew him well enough to understand. She could feel him giving her one last opportunity for honesty, to meet him with any kind of tenderness before leaving. But that night, and the ten years in between, felt like a barbed wire fence around her heart. He was done with her—at least, in any way that mattered—and the risks were too great. She could deal with the despair of losing him again if it meant keeping her dignity.

She cleared her throat, willing the heat of her face to subside as tears stung the corners of her eyes. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not going to be your problem anymore. You can enjoy the rest of the trip without me.” She nodded to emphasize her words as he searched her gaze with his own.

“Unbelievable.” His voice was barely audible, and the tears were pressing hot against her face, begging to escape. Please let me go, she thought, so intensely she feared she might have spoken aloud. She returned her hand to her side, clenching her first and digging into her palm with her nails to stop herself from weeping.

His eyes flitted down to the single tear that had slipped free, streaming down her cheek before disappearing under her chin. His hand rose toward her face, seeming to operate free of his will, and hovered just an inch from her skin. He took a deep breath before lowering it, a long sigh escaping his lips.

“I wish things could have been different,” he whispered. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered as he cleared his throat, steadying himself before his voice returned to a normal volume. “Goodbye, Alex.”