And there it is. Maybe there is no such thing as good timing.
My heart stutters. I nod again, slower this time. “And…?”
“I don’t know.” Lucy exhales like the decision is a weight she doesn’t know how to carry. “I thought I’d feel excited. Relieved. I worked so hard to get that gig. And now that it’s back on the table…” Her eyes flick to mine. “It doesn’t feel like it used to.”
I swallow. Every instinct in me wants to say something—Stay. We can make this work. You don’t have to leave.But that voice sounds too close to the one that stoodin the spare room with Jadelyn and promised we’d make it a nursery. I knew then that we were done, but we hung on and she hurt me more than anyone else in my life.
I won’t let that voice speak for me again.
Instead, I ask, “What does it feel like?”
“Like a door I’m not sure I want to walk through.”
Silence stretches between us. Lucy doesn’t move, doesn’t back away.
I take a step closer, slow and measured, fighting the urge to reach for her. “Why?”
“You,” she whispers. “I don’t want to leave you.”
And I don’t want you to leave, I think, but instead say, “I don’t want to be the reason you didn’t take your dream job. All that resentment aimed my way?”
“I wouldn’t resent you.”
“Maybe not at first. But it’d happen. It’s only natural when we miss out on what we want because of someone else.” I think of Jadelyn slowly falling out of love with me because our life wasn’t as she imagined, of the last thing she said to me before she left:
If you hadn’t fought so hard to keep me, I would have left long ago, sparing both of us all this pain.
Lucy is silent, studying my face. “So you think I should accept the offer.”
“I do.”
“I’ll be gone for a year.”
A year of life without light again.
I reach for her and say the first non-guilt-laden thing that comes to mind. “Thank goodness for cell phones. It’s worked for Mom and family dinners.”
“Yeah.” Lucy exhales, some of the weight leaving her shoulders, and leans lightly against my chest. I wrap an arm around her, careful, steady.
We stand like that for a long time—no promises, no plans. Just breath and bone and something like hope between us.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Lucy
The smell of coffee hits first.
Then the silence.
Nash doesn’t hum like he usually does when he cooks. No playlists. No clanging pans. Just the soft scrape of a spatula and the low click of cabinet doors closing.
I linger at the bedroom door for a second, not sure if I’m ready to face him. Not because I regret anything we said last night—but because we left so muchunsaid. And now we’re stuck in the quiet space after.
I thought we’d talk about the offer, about what it means for me, for Nash, for our future. But suddenly, I’m taking it. I’m going.
Something about that makes me incredibly sad.
When I enter the kitchen, Nash glances up from thestove, his hair still damp from the shower. He’s wearing that dark gray T-shirt that always fits a little too well. His expression softens when he sees me, but it doesn’t quite become a smile.
