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“It doesn’t sound stupid.” I move closer. “But you’re talking like you’re leaving for four years instead of four months.”

“Four months can change a lot.”

“So can four days.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

I sigh and take both his hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Zander.”

He nods, but I can see him turning it over anyway.

“I’m serious. I’m not waiting for the tour bus to leave so I can replace you with a quiet accountant who goes to bed at nine.”

That earns me the beginning of a smile.

“Although the consistent bedtime is tempting.”

“Ruby.”

“I’m kidding.”

“I know.”

But he still looks unsettled.

I study him for a second. “What do you want me to say?”

His brow furrows. “I don’t know.”

“Because I can tell you I care about you. I can tell you I’m not looking for anyone else. I can tell you I’m going to miss you, and I can probably come out for a few shows if we can make the schedules work.”

“I want that.”

“So do I.”

He nods again, but I can feel the conversation refusing to settle.

“What if you hate me being gone?” he asks.

“I probably will sometimes.”

His expression tightens.

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop wanting you.”

“But you don’t know.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t.”

He goes still.

“Zander, nobody knows what four months from now looks like.”

His jaw shifts slightly, and I regret the edge in my voice as soon as I hear it, but I’m starting to feel like every reassurance I give him only opens the door to another version of the same question.

I soften my tone. “I can’t promise you nothing will change. You can’t promise me that either. You’re about to spend months traveling, playing huge shows, meeting people, having experiences I’m not part of. We’re both going to keep living our lives.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”