“Jaysus, can you cut me some slack, Antonia?” he asked. “I’m trying my hardest to make sense of my life and you’ve only been here for a snapshot of it.”

“Everyone is trying to make sense of their lives! How do you think I got here? I was escaping a mental breakdown and my only choice was to run to another country for some peace and quiet.”

“I’m not going to have a pissing contest with you over who’s got it worst, I just want you to give me some credit,” Aiden shouted. “I care for you, Antonia. I really do. I just...”

“You just can’t fight,” she finished. Her shoulders slumped in resignation. “Goodbye, Aiden.”

“Goddamn it,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Please don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything that you didn’t do fifteen minutes ago,” Antonia said as she walked away. “You told me how you felt and I should have listened.”

“Antonia!” She unlocked her cottage door and disappeared inside. He stood speechless, an inert spectator of his own life. A life that was quickly spiraling toward a lonesome status quo. It was alarming how his inability to do anything had propelled her out of his life. His idiotic plan to push her away was a success. She may have closed the door on him, but, brick by brick, he’d built the first wall. One excuse after another fell from his lips and killed any possibility for a dream world. He’d helped her make her decision. Antonia was going home and it was possibly the easiest thing he’d fucked up in a long while.

If that was the case, Aiden couldn’t be there when she took off. If he heard her car door slam shut in the morning, he’d lose it. If it was over, he had to quickly move forward. In a state of numbness, he entered his own cottage and began gathering his things. He turned his brain off and worked on autopilot as he put dishes back into cupboards and tossed the contents of the refrigerator into garbage bags. Outside, the lights of Antonia’s cottage were on and music was playing. When Aiden moved back inside, toward his bedroom, he glanced at the wall separating their homes and tried not to imagine what she was doing.

Booking her plane ticket. Because people leave.

He walked to the wall and stood there for a moment, pressing his ear to the smooth surface, and listened for signs of life. Muffled sounds of slow R&B leeched through, hitting his heart with an overwhelming sadness. Yesterday morning, they had shared a bed. Tonight, they were parting ways. It was his fault and the only solution he had was to leave. He would rather leave like a coward in the night, than go over there and tell her the first lie of their relationship: It doesn’t matter, Antonia. We’ll find a way to make it work.

Aiden forced himself to move away from the wall and go back to packing. In less than an hour, he loaded up his car. He turned one last time to Antonia’s cottage. The lights were still on, but he sensed no movement. His feet were frozen as he stood outside in the cold dark. Part of him had just enough energy to bang on her door and tell her to stay, if only for just a week more. He wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her passionately, hoping he could show her what he couldn’t articulate. The other part of him was the fool who’d ran out of options and had already told her as much. He fell in line with the latter. Aiden left his house key inside the lock and got into his car. Soon, Tully Cross and Antonia were in his rearview mirror.