But I lock it down, blink back those tears.
I can’t have what Faye and Luna and Kailey have.
No matter how much I might want it.
“Right,” I say, rolling my shoulders as I lift my head, as I slap a smile on my face, as I force my gaze to his. But I can only hold it for a second before my eyes slide down to his shoulder and I force out in as even a voice as possible, “Of course you’ll be here.”
Then I can’t hold it together any longer, so I spin on my heel and head for the safety of my kitchen.
The safety of work.
There’s only the barest sound, the scuff of his shoe on the pavement, the soft exhale…
And suddenly, he’s in front of me, his hands coming to my face, cupping my cheeks, and I brace, expecting him to dig into the wound I’ve exposed, to pick at the vulnerability.
Or maybe to manipulate me with more promises, with kisses and touches that melt me despite my best intentions.
Instead, he just stares into my eyes for long enough that my panic begins to subside, that the sound of my heartbeat pounding along my eardrums begins to quiet, that the world begins to come back into focus.
Noises reappear—cars passing by, birds in the trees lining the street, a child’s laughter from the nearby park.
Leo’s steady breathing.
His scent, his strength.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”
And when he pulls back, it’s there in his eyes.
The resignation.
The distance.
He’s leaving.
God, it hurts.
But it hurts less than his hands falling away and him stepping back. It hurts less than watching him walk to his car, get in, and drive away.
“Way to go, Harp,” I whisper to the empty parking lot.
Or almost empty.
Because the bag of trash is still there.
I grunt as I lift it up and toss it into the dumpster…something that’s made easier because Leo tied the top.
Leo.
My eyes fill with tears again.
“Enough,” I whisper.
Then I go inside, wash my hands, and do what I’m good at.
I work.
I plan.
