“It’s called separating for a reason,” she says, whispering her response. As if what we had the other night meant nothing. As if there’s no reason for us to be together. Maybe she really doesn’t love me anymore. The fissure in my chest deepens, feeling like it’s cracked wide open.

“We’re not separated.”

“Yes we are.”

“We didn’t decide to do that,” I answer her. “You were angry.”

“Rightfully so,” she spits back.

“I told you it’s not true,” I plead with her as I stare deep into her eyes. I watch as they gloss over and her lower lip trembles. “Just …” I swallow thickly, the lump growing in the back of my throat suffocating any plea I have for her. Just love me. Just forgive me.

I turn away from her from her for a moment, not able to voice what I’m feeling. I lean forward in the chair, and it creaks as I rest my weight in it. Kat starts to get up in response.

“I don’t want to fight,” I remind her.

“I don’t want this, Evan. I didn’t ask for this,” she says, raising her voice for the second part, the anger coming back. She stops moving, though, and I can tell she’s losing the will to fight. It’s by the way her lips are parted just so, and her breathing is quicker and she has that little crease in the center of her forehead.

“I don’t know what to do or say, or what to think. I feel crazy.” She stares at me wide eyed, her voice sounding hoarse. “Do you understand what that’s like? To be so stupid? To know I’m being stupid and setting myself up for you to hurt me again.”

“I won’t hurt you—” The truth rushes out of me in a single breath, but she doesn’t let me finish.

“But you did,” she says, cutting me off and rocking forward just slightly as she points out the obvious. “And you won’t even tell me why.” Her shoulders shudder, but she doesn’t cry, she holds her ground.

“I don’t want to lose you, Kat,” I manage to speak and peek up to look at her. I’m such a piece of shit. “I just want you. It’s the honest to God truth. I just want you.”

“I want you to quit,” she tells me and rocks on her feet to stand. She nods her head and visibly swallows. “You need to quit.” She stares at me, her emerald eyes pleading. Her body’s still, like she’s not breathing. Just waiting.

“It’s not that easy,” I say and God I wish she knew. I want to tell her everything, but I can’t risk it. I can’t leave right now. I just need time.