I swallow hard.
“You were the first person who ever made me want to be… better. Softer. Real.”
Lucy’s hands tremble slightly on the counter.
“And the second you said you loved me,” I say, voice cracking, “I realized what that meant.”
Her eyes are wide now. “What did it mean?”
“It meant loss was possible,” I say. “It meant you could destroy me.”
Lucy’s breath catches.
“I didn’t pull away because I didn’t love you,” I say, the words scraping out of me. “I pulled away because loving you meant you could destroy me.”
Lucy’s lips part slightly, like she wants to speak and can’t find the words.
I lean forward, not touching her, not daring to.
“I panicked,” I say. “And I did what I’ve always done when I panic: I buried myself in work. I tried to control the outcome by controlling the distance.”
Lucy’s eyes glisten, but she holds it back with sheer force.
“And you left me,” she says, voice raw. “You left me to deal with your father. You left me to...”
“I know,” I say immediately. “I know. And I will regret that for the rest of my life.”
She swallows hard.
“I can’t do this again,” she whispers. “I can’t love someone who disappears the second it gets hard.”
“Then don’t,” I say again, softer this time. “Don’t be bound. Don’t be trapped.”
Lucy’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
I stand, and I walk to my office.
I return with the stack of folders, hers on top.
Lucy’s body stiffens so hard it’s like she’s turned to stone.
I set it on the island between us.
She stares at it like it’s a ticking bomb.
I don’t open it.
I don’t explain it.
I just meet her eyes.
“I’m done with contracts,” I say quietly.
Then I take the folders and carry it to the fireplace.
Lucy stands too, instinctively, like she needs to watch.
I kneel, open the grate, and place the folder inside.
