Not in a tropical bubble where everything feels heightened and urgent and unreal.
When the palm trees are gone and the countdown is over and she's standing in her apartment with the leak finally fixed, her sister’s tuition paid, a little breathing room in heraccount for once—and she still picks up the phone to call me.
That's the love I want from her.
So I say "I really like you too" instead of "I love you."
Because it's true.
And because it gives us both room to be sure.
"But—" I start.
She laughs. It's not a happy sound. "There's a but."
"Yeah. There's a but."
I lean forward. Elbows on my knees.
"This has been barely a week, Jane. We met January twenty-fourth. It's January thirtieth. That's six days."
"Six and a half," she says quietly. "If you count nights."
I do count nights. Every single one. And every hour.
"That's not a lot of time."
"No."
"And we've been in a bubble. Paradise. High stakes. Forced proximity. Fake dating that turned real." I look at her. "What are we outside of this?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I."
Both of us take a deep breath.
"And there’s my career. Not sure if I’ll stay in New York. And I have other offers, even a coaching one. Out west. I haven't said yes yet, but the pressure's there. People calling. Asking when I'm going to decide. There are still things that I need to get straight with my current team."
Jane's voice is careful. "Where out west?"
I shake my head. "Doesn't matter yet. The point is—it's not Boston."
"Boston is where I live. Where Grace is. Where my business is."
"I know."
"I can't leave her. Not right now. She's got a few more years left of school. She needs me."
"I know that too."
"And my business—I'm just starting to get traction. Real clients. Maybe the bridesmaids will give me referrals. If I disappear now—"
"You lose momentum."
"Yeah."
The ocean keeps going outside. Oblivious to the gravity inside this room.
