Gran pats my cheek. “Even if that someone isn’t Noah, there’s someone out there who will be worth letting in. I just hope you let yourself find them.”

“Gran,” I say thickly. “I . . . think I like Noah. Like, really.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” She whistles as she pulls back. “That man is . . . Wow.”

“Gran,” I laugh, wiping away the last few errant tears from my eyes.

“I’m just saying,” she chuckles.

I bite back a grin. “He is . . . definitely something.”

“I’m sure he’s just busy. Don’t get too worked up about it. Just remember that you are amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Okay, now you’re embarrassing me,” I groan.

“It’s my job,” she retorts. “Now finish your coffee before it gets cold.”

I’m still sniffling a little when I turn back toward the counter, Gran going back to the pot to top off her own cup. I only notice my phone all lit up when I reach to bring my mug closer, pausing what I’m doing and leaning over the screen to catch Noah’s name. There’s an undeniable surge of excitement that courses through me when I pull my phone closer, wondering when in the last month I got to the point where just seeing his name made me giddy.

I swipe open the text, his reply short but butterfly-inducing nonetheless because—

NOAH: Could we meet up after I get off? Maybe at that cafe we went to last time?

I’m grinning like an idiot as I read his invitation, realizing I’m happy just from the possibility of seeing him again. Maybe I’ve gone crazy.

I just hope you let yourself find them.

I smile, thinking that Gran might be on to something as I tap out a response.

ME: Can’t wait.

The café isn’t as busy as the last time we were here, but there are still a handful of couples and college students hanging around the trendy little tables when I step inside. Outside, the snow’s started to come down, and I dust it off my shoes, starting to pull off my coat as I look around in search of him. He’s sitting at the same booth we had our first pretend date in, and realizing this makes me smile as I wave at him. I don’t waste any time going to join him, sliding into the other side of the booth and laying my coat on the seat beside me as I give him my attention.

Noah definitely looks tired; there are dark circles under his eyes as if he’s had little sleep, and there’s a frown etched on his mouth that feels somehow grumpier than the one he’d been so fond of when we first struck up our deal.

“Wow, someone had a rough day,” I tease. “Were you yelling at nurses again?”

“I told you,” he says wearily, “that was—”

“Grossly overexaggerated,” I laugh. “Yeah. I know. But really, you look tired as hell.”

“I feel it,” he says quietly. “It’s been . . . a long day.”

“I’m sorry.” I reach across the table to trace a finger across his knuckle, lowering my voice. “I know a few good ways to relieve stress, if you’re interested.”

“Mackenzie . . .”

I’m just starting to notice that there’s something underneath all of the fatigue; his blue eyes look duller, and his hair looks messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s chewing on the edge of his lip like he’s worried about something, and it’s amazing to me that I’m not only able to pick up on these things, but apparently my first instinct is to soothe him. Honestly, I’m having a hard time not switching to the other side of the booth and wrapping my arms around him. I’m not even sure if his mood is to blame for that or if it’s just a constant desire that I have now.

“What’s wrong?” I squeeze his hand, my thumb stroking back and forth. “Did something happen?” He looks at our hands, his mouth turning down and his brow furrowing. His eyes dart around like he’s struggling to find the words, and there’s a flare of worry that flashes inside me. “Noah. Tell me. Is it Dennis? Is he bothering you again? Or is it the board? You can tell me. We’ll figure it out.”

When he finally looks up at me, he seems . . . sad. Regretful, maybe. I can’t say why, but something about the way he looks at me is uneasy. Almost like I’ve seen it before. I’m trying to place where, but it isn’t coming to me.

“Mackenzie,” he tries again. “I need you to know beforehand that this is not an easy decision for me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

My hand slips from his, too surprised to even adequately process what he’s said. Why is he still looking at me like that?

“Noah, what are you . . .”

But I can see it now. His expression. I can really see it. It’s the same one that a father wears when they tell a little girl that they can’t stay with her anymore. It’s the same one you never really forget.

“Mackenzie,” Noah says carefully, his voice tight. “I think we should end our arrangement.”

OceanofPDF.com

24

I knew that everything about this was going to hurt, but seeing the realization on Mackenzie’s face—the dissipation of her smile, the surprise in her eyes that quickly turns to pain, the way her mouth parts like she can’t comprehend what I’m saying—experiencing it all proves enough to actually gut me. I can almost feel the knife twisting in my belly.

And I can’t let it show.

She pulls her hands from the table to tuck them in her lap, looking away from me as her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think it’s going to work,” I say flatly, everything inside me screaming to reach out and touch her, to take away the hurt forming in her eyes.

She laughs, but it’s humorless. “You don’t think it’s going to work.”

“I heard from Albuquerque, and they want me to start right away.”

“Do they,” she says hollowly, and I feel the knife twist deeper.

“It’s just that it’s going to be a lot more responsibility than I originally thought. Between the move and the workload . . . I don’t know if it’s the right time to try juggling a long-distance relationship.”

She laughs again, a brittle sound that makes my chest hurt, finally looking at me with teary eyes. “You don’t know if it’s the right time.”

“Listen, it’s not anything that you did, it’s—”

“Please don’t give me the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” she says angrily. “Don’t you dare, Noah.”

I feel my resolve wavering, the pain and anger in her face breaking me down. She’s trying to hide it from me, the way my words are cutting her, but I can see it in the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her jaw juts forward and her teeth worry at her lower lip like she’s trying to keep them from quivering. It’s something I’ve never seen before on Mackenzie, sadness, and I feel every ounce of it like it’s my own, like it’s a wound that I’m actively poking at. I know that after this it’s one that might never heal.

I have to remind myself that I’m saving her from a lot more hurt than this, knowing that she would never forgive me if I ruined her career. I can still hear Dennis’s smug voice ringing in my ears.

I guess you’re just going to have to be very convincing then. Aren’t you.

I take a deep, agonizing breath.

“Mackenzie . . . This was always supposed to be temporary.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she hisses. “You and I both know we moved past temporary out at that lodge. You asked me on a fucking date. Why did you ask me on a fucking date, Noah? And all the other shit lately? What was all of that, huh?”

I’m struck for a moment, seeing the exact second that I’m losing her playing out all over her face. I don’t think I could have ever anticipated it would hurt this much. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I think that before this moment I had somehow convinced myself that it would be something that we could both move on from; it feels like such a short time has passed since she first approached me in that tiny break room at the hospital, so how could something cultivated over such a brief amount of time have a lasting impact?