I swallow. “She didn’t say anything about extending her employment, did she?”
“No, but shedidsay something about forced PTO. Foryou.She’s seriously worried about you.” After a second he adds, “I am, too.”
“Today was bad,” I agree. “I’m not usually that bad.”
“Wrong. You’re usually better at hiding it.”
I laugh brittlely. “This muffin is delicious.”
Will glances down at it, then back up to me. “Yeah, well, I knew you liked raspberries.”
“How?”
“That’s the popsicle flavor you ordered in Barcelona.”
His mention of Barcelona reminds me of my dream. My expression must shift; his does, too, like a mirror. “What’s on your mind, Josie?”
I sigh. Lick the sugar from my fingertips. Will licks his thumb and uses it to sticker some of the sugar off my thighs before he presses it to his tongue. I temporarily lose concentration before my brain recalibrates.
“I didn’t do a thorough evaluation of the Barcelona supplier. Or the ones in Bangalore, for that matter. I was too… love drunk.”
Will’s eyebrows draw together. “There wasn’t anything wesawon those visits that could have prevented what happened today.”
“But that’s the point, Will. We didn’tsee anything.Or at least, I didn’t.”
His lips fold downward. “You act like we walked past a glaring red flag and ignored it.”
“I just…” I put the muffin down and focus my attention on him. “I was distracted that day, is what I’m saying. I was distracted the entire rest of the trip.”
“By me.” His eyes search mine, plunging past my walls and hunting around the vulnerable parts of me that aren’t saying what I really mean.
“Yes. By you.”
For a few more seconds we’re quiet.
“I did it again,” he whispers, his blue eyes warm but sad.
“Did what?”
He looks sideways. “Ruined another thing for you.”
My regret hits me like a boxing punch. I was only explaining my own shortcomings. I didn’t want Will toblamehimself for this.
I tip his chin back until he’s facing me again. “You keep envisioning yourself as a catalyst for ruin,” I say. “But Will—the truth is you’re only a catalyst for change. And maybe it starts messy. But it always ends better.”
“How isthisbetter?” he asks, looking desperately disappointed. “This is exactly what you were afraid of.” Will’s hands move up my thighs to my waist, clutching tight. “Before we started this, you told me you were afraid I’d become very important to you, and it would distract you from what’smostimportant. Revenant. I tried not to do it—tried to fit into your life in a way that allowed for both—but if you don’t think it’s worked, I’ve failed.”
My eyes mist as I watch him watch me. My fingers trail over his cheek. “That’s just it. You didn’t becomevery importantto me.Youbecame what’s most important.”
I pull on his neck until my face is buried in his shoulder. “I loveyou,” I whisper. “I don’t want to part with you. I wouldn’t be able to go on without you. But I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how to balance it all. I can’tdoit.”
I cry against him as he holds me, his hands rubbing circles on my back. “I love you, too, J. So much. But I can’t do it either. If you aren’t happy, if you aren’t fulfilled, I can’t be—I can’t help—” He cuts himself off, unable to articulate, and keeps rubbing circles.
My body feels like a wrung-out dishrag, wrinkled, used up. After a few minutes, Will pulls back and puts his hands on my cheeks. His eyes lock on mine.
“You and I are going to have an adult conversation about this,” he says. “And at the end of that conversation, we will not have broken up. Agreed?”
I nod. “I couldn’t break up with you if the world depended on it, Will Grant.”
