“You don’t get it,” he said, raising his voice as a wave of emotion rose in his chest at her naiveté. He was fighting for his emotional life here, damn it. “I like it that way.” Why couldn’t she just leave it be? “Now, if you can put your hand on your heart and tell me that there’s no part of you holding out a chance for us, then welcome to Credence and have a great life. But if you can’t, then please, I’m begging you—” He laid his hand on his heart because he didn’t know what he’d do if she stayed, and he didn’t even want to go there. “Don’t bother. Go back to New York. Do your art. Sign your paintings. Find a New York guy. Have New York babies.”

Fuck… The thought that she’d find a New York guy was like a knife to his guts, but just because he’d chosen to be alone didn’t mean she should. Hell, it would be a travesty.

She, at least, should be happy.

But that thought right now burned, and he had to leave, get out of her company before he undid all the hard yards he’d just walked. “Please,” he said, his gaze imploring her as his hand slid from his chest and he turned and walked out of the room.

…

Suzanne didn’t sleep a wink, tossing and turning, making excuses in her head, listing reasons to stay. For her art and her muse. And because she was a grown-ass woman and she could live wherever she wanted. But it was no use. She knew Grady was right.

She could tell herself as much as she wanted that she was here for her art, but there would always be some blinking light of hope inside her that one day Joshua Grady would just wake up and decide he couldn’t live without her. And eventually, it would drive her crazy. So as much as she felt that staying was the best decision for her painting, Suzanne chose to protect her heart instead.

And that meant leaving.

She made that decision at 4:34 a.m. and lay awake counting down the minutes until Grady left. She heard footsteps in the hallway just before six and listened to the noises of Grady getting ready for his day for the last time, refusing to cry. Half an hour later, the door opened, then clicked shut, and Suzanne got out of bed.

She spent the next two hours packing, getting everything ready to stow in the van, refusing to let herself think emotionally, forcing herself to be practical.

Including leaving the portrait of Grady behind in her room.

Prior to last night, she’d have laughed at the suggestion of leaving without it. But now…