Page 86 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

Instead, all Tyler could hear was the unspoken half: because I’m leaving.

His voice came out sharper than he meant. “So I’m supposed to just… slot myself into your calendar?”

Robyn’s eyebrows drew together. “What? No. That’s not⁠—”

“That’s what this is,” Tyler said, gesturing at the screen. “A calendar.”

Robyn’s cheeks flushed. “I’m trying to be practical.”

Tyler let out a rough laugh. “Of course you are.”

Robyn’s excitement drained in quick, startled increments. “What is going on with you?”

Tyler looked away because if he looked at her—at her hopeful eyes, her hands gripping her phone—he was going to say something he couldn’t take back.

He tried anyway. “Nothing.”

Robyn’s voice sharpened. “That’s not true.” She lowered her voice. Tyler knew she was trying not to make a scene on Oak Way. “Tyler. Talk to me.”

His throat tightened. He didn’t want to be this guy. He didn’t want to ruin her good news with his fear.

But his fear had teeth.

“You’re excited,” he said, voice too flat. “You’re glowing. You’re already… halfway gone.”

Robyn blinked like he’d slapped her. “That’s not fair.”

Tyler’s laugh came out rough and quiet. “Isn’t it?”

Robyn’s hands tightened on her phone. “I’m trying to find a way to have both. I’m trying to find a way to keep you in my life.”

Tyler’s chest burned.

“Yeah,” he said, low. “And I’m trying to figure out what the point is.”

Robyn’s eyes darted around. But it was too late to take this conversation private. The words were already out.

Tyler’s voice came out low and raw. “You’re leaving.”

Robyn’s eyes flashed. “I’m not leaving you. Or Emma. Or Maple Falls. Or—” She shook her head, frustrated. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I’m trying to talk about it.”

Tyler felt himself sliding into the old track. His past hurt turning into anger because anger was easier than begging.

“You can’t just plan this into something that will work. But that’s what you always do,” he said, voice tight. “You make lists. You make plans. You arrange your life so it makes sense on paper⁠—”

Robyn cut in, sharp. “Because I’m trying not to fall apart, Tyler.”

Silence.

Even the sounds of downtown—the café door opening, someone laughing across the street—felt farther away.

“And what if you decide Yale wins?” Tyler asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

Robyn flinched. “It’s not a contest.”

“It is,” Tyler said, and he hated how certain he was. “Everything becomes a contest eventually.”

“Tyler,” Robyn hissed, glancing around. “We’re outside.”