I let go of Dylan’s hand.
Not fast, like I had been caught doing something dirty.
Slowly.
Like surrender.
I stood, the chair scraping faintly behind me.
My face was wet. My hands empty. My heart nowhere near protected.
Georgia waited.
She deserved a lie.
No.
She deserved the truth.
I looked at Dylan first.
Then at her.
“Since I was eighteen,” I whispered.
Georgia closed her eyes.
The answer landed exactly where she already knew it would.
When she opened them again, tears slid down her cheeks.
“He said your name,” she said.
It was not a question.
My breath caught.
She looked past me to Dylan.
Then down at the ring on her finger.
“I knew there was someone,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know she was real.”
Something inside me cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
Georgia laughed once.
Small.
Broken.
“Me too.”
I stepped away from the bed.
Away from Dylan.
