Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added one more line:
•Wyatt: give space, hold steady, don’t chase, don’t shrink
I stared at that line for a long moment.
Because I could feel the temptation to make him the center of the story.
To build everything around him and call it romance.
But romance wasn’t self-abandonment.
Not the kind I wanted.
If Wyatt was going to be mine in a real way, he would have to meet me in the life I built—not rescue me from a life I hadn’t bothered to design.
And I believed he could.
Not because he was perfect.
Because he loved me.
And love—real love—rose to the occasion.
My phone buzzed then, and my heart did an automatic leap before I could stop it.
I flipped it over.
Not Wyatt.
An email from Natalie confirming location details and time, with a cheerful little note:Proud of you.
I exhaled, smiling despite myself.
Okay.
Still.
In the quiet after that, with the job listings glowing on the screen and my resignation hanging in the air like a newly opened door, I let myself think of Wyatt without letting it become a wound.
Somewhere in Charleston, he was doing what he always did when life got too big.
Moving. Running. Trying to outpace his own emotions.
He would come back.
And if he didn’t come back today, he would soon.
Because I’d seen his truth.
I closed the browser tab and started drafting the formal resignation email in my head.
Not dramatic. Not emotional. Simple and direct.
Then I stood, slung my tote over my shoulder, and walked back toward the front desk.
Sasha looked up again, like she’d been expecting me.
“Find anything good?” she asked.
