“Do you realize how much planning I’ve done?” he said, his voice raised. “I found us a house, Lane. It’s close to hotels for your work, and it’s in a great school district. What am I going to do with a house if you’re not in California to share it with me?”

“You never asked me if it’s what I wanted. You did all that planning without talking to me at all.”

“When you said you needed time to process, I thought you just wanted to be sure about moving. I didn’t think you were questioning our entire relationship.”

“It feels like I’m questioning everything lately. But, Jamie, really think about it. We haven’t been speaking the same language for weeks. We’re not connecting. Not like we should be.”

“But we have fun, Lane. We’ve never even had an argument. I feel like this is really coming out of nowhere.”

“That doesn’t alarm you at all? That we’ve never argued? How invested are we, really, if we haven’t ever felt anything strongly enough to fight about it? I don’t think you know me nearly as well as you think you do.”

A conversation I’d had with Simon while walking through the Biltmore House came to mind. He’d been asking me questions, trying to get me to tell him things he didn’t already know about me.

“Okay,” Simon had said. “Here’s what I’ve got. You love to read poetry—Billy Collins for his love of ordinary subjects, Longfellow for his passion, and Nikki Giovanni both because she writes revolutionary words and because she helped pave the way for other black artists and authors. You love chocolate but more as an accent than the main ingredient. You have a ridiculous yet somehow still-adorable obsession with BOYBAND 2.0. You play a mean game of soccer. Your favorite color must be turquoise because one, you have two different scarves, both turquoise, and two, it’s the color of your toenails. You love to read books that touch you on a soul-deep level. You love Puerto Rican food more than anything ever cooked in the States, with the exception of Granny Grace’s chicken and dumplings.”

I’d been blown away by his thoroughness and perception. Sure, much of what he’d mentioned we’d talked about, but other stuff he’d figured out because he’d paid attention. He cared about details like I did, which allowed him to see me like I wanted to be seen, in a way that despite his best efforts, Jamie never could. Jaime had been wrong for me from the start. It had just taken us a long time to realize it.

After twenty more minutes of arguing, Jamie was finally subdued, and I was completely drained. I reached over and touched his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”