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I wanted to tell her that the moment I realized she might be pregnant, the panic I felt wasn’t about the baby. It was about losing her. I hated the idea she’d made a decision without me. I wouldn’t tell her it pissed me off that she’d decided I wasn’t worth the risk.

Yet. Once I got everything settled with her, I would definitely be telling her I didn’t appreciate the whole cut and run thing.

After a delay, fucking sheep of all things, I finally made it to the airport where the plane waited on the tarmac. I had texted the pilot on the way and wanted him ready to roll the second I arrived. I grabbed my suitcase and jogged up the stairs.

I boarded without ceremony, barely acknowledging the crew as I settled into my seat. The moment the wheels left the ground, I felt the first real breath leave my lungs since I’d found that note.

I was on my way. She could run, but I wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I looked up. The flight attendant smiled at me. I didn’t even get her name when I boarded. That was a dick move. My parents would kick my ass if they found out I had been disrespectful.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I muttered. “That was rude. Can I please have a glass of whiskey and whatever you guys managed to get for dinner?”

I glanced at her nametag. Corinne.

“We secured some gourmet cheeses. Gruyère and appenzeller cheese. I sampled them. For your meal, we’ve got premium beef filet, roasted potatoes, and steamed veggies.”

I wasn’t hungry. “Can I just have the whiskey and maybe some of that cheese, Corinne?”

Her face lit up. “Of course.”

I could feel my stress level going down. I was on my way. It felt like I was finally doing something.

Corinne brought my cheese and whiskey. The whiskey went down smoothly. I munched on the cheese. It was good and my first thought was how much Lucy would like it.

The flight felt endless. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. I tried to eat the meal Corinne brought, but I just didn’t have the appetite. I stared out the window into the dark night and thought about Lucy.

Had I imagined what I thought I saw in her eyes when she looked at me? Had I been so caught up in my own feelings that I’d missed the signs of her pulling away?

No. I hadn’t imagined it. Whatever had changed, it wasn’t because she didn’t care about me. It was because she cared too much. She was trying to protect me from something she thought I didn’t want.

She was wrong. So fucking wrong.

The refueling in New York was delayed. We couldn’t take off because a fucking winter storm grounded all of us. It felt like the universe was against me. I was about to rent a car and drive when the pilot approached.

“We just got clearance,” he said. “We’re ready.”

“Let’s go.”

When we finally touched down at LAX, it was one o’clock in the morning. That pissed me off because I wanted to go straight to her, but I wouldn’t disrespect her by showing up in the middle of the night. I knew how bad the exhaustion was for her. I would let her sleep and show up at a decent hour.

I hailed a cab to take me home. And now I was tired. I fell into bed and finally managed to sleep for a few hours.

When I woke, panic gripped me. I hopped out of bed and grabbed my phone. It was barely seven. I took a three-minute shower to avoid offending her with my body odor. By a quarter after seven, I sped toward Lucy’s apartment, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel with nervous energy.

I whipped into the visitor parking spot and hopped out of the car. I took the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding harder with every step.

I was desperate to see her.

I knocked on her door and paced in front of it. “Speak from the heart. Be honest.”

The door didn’t open.

I knocked again, harder this time. “Lucy? It’s me. Please, open the door.”

Silence.