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I breathe out slowly and set my glass aside. “I think you’re trying to solve the tour through me.”
He stares at me.
“I’m staying here, Zander. I’m going to accept the offer at Black Fern if the numbers make sense. I’m building my life here, and I want you in it.” I move closer because I need him to hear the whole thing, not only the part that scares him. “But I can’t arrange that life in a way that guarantees you’ll never feel what it’s like to be gone.”
“That’s not what I expect.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
His expression hardens. “That’s a pretty big difference.”
“I know it is. I’m not accusing you of doing this on purpose.”
“Kind of sounds like you are.”
Frustration pushes through me. “I’m telling you what it feels like from my side.”
For a few seconds, neither of us says anything, and this is not how I wanted tonight to go.
An hour ago, I was standing inside Black Fern imagining my name on legal paperwork and wondering if I could finally replace the terrible lamp near the front desk.
Now Zander is three feet away, looking like I’ve accused him of something I don’t even have a name for.
His voice is quieter when he says, “I don’t know how to do both.”
That stops me. “Both?”
He closes his eyes briefly, and I know he hears it too.
“The tour and us,” he says. “Being gone that long and not knowing if we’ll still work the way we do now.”
The anger drains out of me faster than I expect, because I finally understand exactly where his head is.
“You don’t have to know how yet.”
“I’d like some idea before I leave.”
“So would I.” I fold my arms loosely, more to hold myself still than anything else. “But you keep asking questions neither one of us can answer until we’re actually living it.”
“What am I supposed to do, just assume it’ll work?”
“No. You decide whether you want the tour, and then we decide together how we handle you being gone.”
“I already told you I want it.”
“Then go.”
His gaze snaps to mine.
I shake my head before he can hear the wrong thing in it. “I’m not telling you to leave me. I’m telling you to take the tour you’ve spent years working for.”
“And what happens to us?”
“There.” I point lightly between us. “That’s what I mean.”
His mouth closes.
“You ask me that like I’m supposed to have an answer that makes you feel okay.”
