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She grins.

I grab my jacket from the back of a chair.

“See you around, Pumpkin.”

“Gray?”

I stop.

She’s leaning against the counter, watching me.

“Do you ever think about it?”

“About what?”

“What would’ve happened if you’d stayed?”

The question hits me square in the chest.

I look at her.

At the woman she’s become.

At the bakery she built.

At the life she made without me.

“Every fucking day.”

Her smile fades.

“Really?”

“Every day, Autumn.”

She looks down at her hands.

Then back at me.

“Why did you come back?”

I could tell her the truth.

That Boulder never felt like home.

That I spent ten years building a business, making money, and trying to convince myself I didn’t need anybody.

That every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

And that six months ago, I finally got tired of pretending I didn’t.

I step closer.

Close enough to smell cinnamon on her skin.

Close enough to see the little freckles across her nose.

“Because I got tired of missing you.”