“I don’t understand.”
She stands up, pacing to the other side of the room, her arms wrapped around herself. “The competition is in three weeks, but the opening rounds start next week. I need to focus. I can’t be distracted by... by this.”
“By us, you mean.”
“Yes.” She won’t look at me. “I need to focus on my goals. On becoming independent. On proving I can make it on my own.”
I stand too, moving toward her. “You can do all of that and still be with me.”
“No, I can’t.” Her voice is harder now, defensive. “I lose focus when I’m with you. I start thinking about what it would be like to have a future with you instead of concentrating on my own future. And I can’t afford that. Not when everything I’ve worked for depends on winning this scholarship.”
“Kiera—”
“I’m not like you, River.” She finally looks at me, and her eyes are red-rimmed and fierce. “You have money. You have options. If your documentary doesn’t work out, you can try something else. But this competition is my one shot. My only shot. And I can’t mess it up because I’m too busy falling for someone who’s going to leave eventually anyway.”
The words sting. “You think I’m going to leave?”
“Everyone leaves.” She says it matter-of-factly, like it’s a universal truth. “My ex left. My parents left. And you will too, once you realize I’m not worth the trouble. So I’m just saving us both time by ending this now, before it gets harder.”
“That’s not fair.” I take another step toward her. “I’m not your parents. I’m not your ex. I’ve been here every day, Kiera. I’ve shown up, I’ve listened, I’ve supported you. What do I have to do to prove I’m not going anywhere?”
“You can’t prove it.” Her voice cracks. “Because nobody stays. Not for me. And I’d rather end this on my terms than wait around for you to figure out I’m not enough.”
“You are enough.” I’m pleading now, and I don’t care. “Kiera, you’re more than enough. You’re talented and?—”
“Stop.” She holds up her hand. “Please stop. The decision is made. This is what I need. What we both need.”
“Don’t tell me what I need.” Frustration bleeds into my voice. “I need you. I need this. Whatever we’re building together—it matters to me. You matter to me.”
She shakes her head, and I watch the walls slam into place. Her expression shutters, becoming distant and cold. “I’m sorry, River. But this is over. I can’t come back.”
“Just like that? You’re just going to throw away everything we have because you’re scared?”
“I’m not scared.” But her voice wavers. “I’m being practical.”
“You’re running away,” I say, and I know it’s the wrong thing the moment it leaves my mouth. “Just like you did when you came to this island instead of going straight to Kiki. You’re so afraid of getting hurt that you’d rather be alone.”
Her face goes pale, then flushes with anger. “That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair.” I run both hands through my hair. “You’re making a decision that affects both of us without even giving me a chance to?—”
“There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.” She grabs her bag from beside the couch. “I’m sorry, River. I really am. But this is what has to happen.”
She’s moving toward the door, and panic rises in my chest. “Kiera, wait. Please. Let’s just talk about this. We can figure it out together.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” She’s almost out of the door now, not looking back. “I’ll be busy with the beginning rounds next week. After that, the competition. Then, if all goes well, I’ll be going to culinary school on the mainland. Our paths were always going to diverge eventually. This way is just... cleaner.”
I follow her down the hall and through the living room to the front door. “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”
She opens the door, and the warm night air rushes in. For a moment, she just stands there, silhouetted against the darkness outside.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, still not turning around. “For everything you’ve done for me. For the mystery ingredients and the challenges and the restaurant tonight. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I’ll never forget it.”
“Kiera—”
“Goodbye, River.”
She walks out, and I stand in the doorway watching her get into her car. The engine starts. The headlights flick on. And then she’s backing out of my driveway. She puts her car into drive and I watch her taillights growing smaller and smaller until they disappear completely into the darkness.
