"And you believe that? That either of you could walk away after another taste?" She squeezed my hand. "Be honest with yourself. This isn't about closure. It's about wanting something you know you shouldn't have."
Her words hit with uncomfortable precision.
She was right, of course.
One more night wouldn't provide clarity—it would only deepen the connection, make the inevitable separation more painful.
"What would you do?" I asked, needing her perspective even if I wasn't sure I could follow it.
"Me? I'd run so far in the opposite direction they'd need a search party to find me." She smirked, but her eyes remained serious.
"But I'm not you, and you've never been good at walking away from complicated men."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? Miles was emotionally unavailable from day one, but you spent months trying to prove you were worthy of his attention, even longer trying to get over him. And now his father, who's what, twenty years older?—shows you a glimmer of understanding, and you're ready to risk your professional reputation, not to mention your sanity, for one more night?"
Put like that, it sounded pathetic.
Familiar.
A pattern I’d sworn I’d break after Miles—falling for men who were out of reach and convincing myself that distance meant depth.
“He’s different,” I said, though even I could hear the doubt in my voice.
And maybe he was.
But maybe that was just another lie I was desperate to believe.
"Different, or just better at seeing what you need?"
Zoe's voice softened.
"I'm not judging you, Savannah. But I watched you rebuild yourself after Miles. I don't want to see you tear it all down for another man who can't possibly give you what you deserve."
"Which is what?"
"Someone uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't come with enough baggage to sink a cruise ship. Someone who can love you openly, not just behind closed hotel room doors."
She finished her wine.
"At the very least, someone who isn't your ex's father."
Logic. Reason.
All the things I'd been telling myself since Sunday morning when my world had imploded at brunch.
And yet none of it dimmed the want that had taken root inside me, growing stronger with each passing day.
"I know you're right," I said finally. "I know the smart choice is to walk away."
"But?"
"But I can't stop thinking about him." I stared into my wine glass, watching the light refract through the ruby liquid. "About how it felt to be with someone who actually saw me.
Not as an accessory or a trophy or a career advantage, but as a person with desires and needs of my own."
"That's called being a decent human being, not grounds for an affair," Zoe pointed out. "There are plenty of men who could give you that without the Turner-Reid family drama."
