Several weeks had passed since my visit to Hunt Financial. Each morning that followed, I went in for a few hours, trying to make a dent in my workload, setting boundaries with my parents and staff, searching for what felt like the best in this new phase of my life. Alfred would then drive me home, where I’d meet Whitney. I had released Veronica from her duties around the same time I went back to the office, no longer needing overnight care. A conversation with Whitney needed to happen next, and while we had been on the phone last night, I’d mentioned that we had to discuss her schedule. I’d put it off long enough, but I fucking hated the thought of letting her go professionally even if that meant I was getting healthier.

When I arrived home after half a day, she was in the kitchen, a cooler already packed on the island, asking if I wanted to go for a picnic. I gently took her into my arms, her body feeling unusually rigid, and I kissed her, telling her that was the perfect idea. With help from my walker, we went to a nearby park, finding a bench in the sun.

Between us, she placed containers of olives and a spread of cheese and crackers, rolled prosciutto and roast beef. I grabbed a little of each, making a sandwich, dropping some fig jam on the top, and took the first bite.

“I know it’s only lunchtime,” she said, removing a bottle of white wine from the cooler, “but this food is too good to drink with water.”

I smiled. “You don’t have to convince me to day drink.”

She poured some in a cup and handed it to me. I clicked it against hers and took a sip.

“This is really nice, Whitney.”

There was an emotion on her face that I couldn’t read, matching the stiffness I’d felt earlier when I hugged her and heard in her voice when she called from her apartment yesterday evening. Something was bothering my girl; I just didn’t have the talent to read her mind, like she could with me.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I said.

She slowly turned toward me, crossing her legs over the wooden panels. “I know you don’t need me as your nurse anymore. You’ve kept me on because of what’s happening between us, and I adore you for that, but it feels like I’m taking advantage of a situation that I care about far too much. I can’t let that happen anymore.”

I brushed the hair out of her face, the painful realization biting at me that our lunches and afternoons together were going to be limited. “I didn’t want to let you go.” My voice lightened when I continued, “And I still don’t.”