A sharp wave of disappointment hits—I am so, so tired of waiting for things to be normal.
I exhale slowly through my nose. He's a freelance photographer. Travel is part of the job. I knew that when we started this.
I wipe my hands again, even though they're already clean, and make my voice steady.
"Sounds like a great job. Do you want to take it?"
He's watching me.
"Professionally? Yeah. It's a huge opportunity. The kind of work that opens doors."
"I hear a but."
"But personally..." He sets his phone down, turns it facedown on the table. "I'd hate to leave right when we could finally spend time together. Real time. Not just lunch in a war room."
My grip on the water bottle loosens.
He wants to stay.
"And honestly?" He runs a hand through his hair. "It's not just that. This shoot—it's intensive. Pre-production, location scouting, coordinating with local guides. I would need more than three days of prep to do it right. And I don't have weeks. Plus, I'm running on fumes right now."
I nod slowly. "So you're saying you're not ready for it."
"Yeah. Mentally and physically, I'm tapped. If I took this job right now, I wouldn't be a hundred percent. And that's not fair to them or to me."
I pick up my container again, pushing noodles around. The motion gives me something to do with my hands.
"So what are you going to do?"
"Turn it down."
I stop. Swallow. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I want to sleep for a week after this presentation. And honestly? I want to spend time with you. When we're both conscious."
I smile despite the tightness still sitting in my chest. "That would be nice."
He's quiet for a moment, studying me. "You okay? You got quiet."
"I'm okay. I'm just trying to map this out."
"About?"
I set the container down, meet his eyes. "About how this is going to work. Long-term."
"What do you mean?"
I take a breath. "You're a freelance photographer. Travel is part of your job. And I can't—I don't want to be the person who asks you to stop working just because we're together. That's not fair."
"I'm not asking you to—"
I hold up a hand, cutting him off gently. "I know. But I'm saying it anyway. Because I need to figure out how to handle this. How we handle this."
He leans back slightly, giving me space. "Okay. So what are you thinking?"
This is the part where I usually have a plan. Where I've already mapped out contingencies and built the structure.
I don't have one.
