“What is it?” I said. “What are you not saying?”

“I don’t have doubts.” He held up his hands, palms up, a gesture of surrender. “I just haven’t wanted to push you. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to make this huge life decision before you were ready. Before we’re ready. Everyone says I’m impulsive, that I make decisions quick. I didn’t want to do that to you. I . . .” He shook his head. “I thought I’d scare you off.”

“What’s scary is wondering if your boyfriend isn’t talking to you about his plans because he’s not sure he wants you to be a part of them.”

“That’s not it. I promise, Lane.” He squared his shoulders. “Here’s the truth, all right? I’m going to California. For sure. It’s a done deal. And I don’t want to go without you. I’ve just had no clue how to tell you that. That’s big, you know? I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you this early on.”

“But, Jamie, you should have told me. As soon as you knew, we should have talked about it.” Even as I said the words, I felt the wisdom in his restraint. If he’d come to me six weeks earlier and said, “Hey, how about you move to California to be with me?” I’d have probably panicked.

He stood and crossed the kitchen to where I leaned against the counter. He took me by the arms, gently turning me so I faced him head-on. “You’re right. I should have told you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Can we talk about it now?”

I’d just told him it was what I wanted. To talk about it. But suddenly the whole conversation felt too overwhelming. There was no way I could adequately express everything that was going on inside my brain. All the doubt and worry over the past month—doubts about the depth of my relationship with Jamie, about moving, about potential feelings for Simon—had set the stage for a perfect storm of emotion. Mix in the disappointment of Jamie not coming home for Thanksgiving, and I was a complete mess. There was no way I could have any kind of objective conversation about California with my emotions already so churned up.

I pressed my forehead into the heels of my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You don’t want to talk about California right now?”

“About anything. Any of it. I think I just need some time to process.”

He nodded, though I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “Time to process. I’m not sure I know what that means.”