“It is absolutely true that Nia is considering artist-in-residence programs in the DC area. We’re roommates. Met in college. Have lived together ever since. And when I realized she was leaving Atlanta, I panicked. Wanted to curl up and cry. I just”—she drops her head, her shoulders sagging—“couldn’t imagine my life without her. It was in that moment, when she told me we wouldn’t be roommates anymore, that it became clear ours wasn’t a platonic relationship. For me, that is. I decided I’d move here to be with her.”

Most days, I probably would have figured out the punch line by now, but I’m emotionally drained, and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. “So why the ruse?”

“C’mon, Dean. You know how it is. Try explaining why an eighth-year associate is leaving the only firm she’s ever worked for to relocate to DC. People assume you weren’t going to be made a partner and your bosses are letting you go gracefully. Nia became my valid reason.”

“But she agreed to fake the relationship, right? So she must have understood why you did it.”

“I didn’t tell her. Instead, I claimed I wasn’t happy with my current situation. Said this would be the perfect opportunity for us both to try something new.”

“Kimberly,” I say, leaning closer and meeting her eyes. “You need to tell her how you feel.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can. What if she doesn’t reciprocate? What if telling her changes our relationship forever? What if we grow apart because of it? I’d rather have her in my life in some way than not at all. The alternative—not being able to spend time with her, not seeing her when I get home from work, not sharing my hopes and dreams with her—I can’t even imagine it.”

The fucking pounding in my chest nearly causes me to hunch over. What Kimberly is describing, what sounds a lot like love, is precisely how I feel about Solange. And I was perfectly prepared to give it up because I’m terrified that I don’t matter to her as much as she matters to me, or that she’ll run off somewhere, and I’ll be worse off when she’s gone. It’s the reason I acted like an ass when I found out she was contemplating leaving DC even though she’d been offered an opportunity to stay.

But I see it now: That feeling I’ve been chasing for over a decade—a feeling of rightness, of belonging, of being secure in who I am—I won’t be able to fully achieve it without Solange in my life. And fuck, I essentially told her the exact opposite. I said she deserved everything, but I couldn’t be the person to give it to her.