Because saying goodbye to her hurts, too.
Even if leaving is the right thing, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t tear something out of me.
“Well,” Scarlet says, opening the door wider, “come in and have a wine.Please.”
“Only if you’re having one too,” I say, stepping in and setting my bag down.
She grins.“Obviously.We’ll chat and have wine one last time.”
One last time.Those words hit me harder in the chest.
She heads into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, “Brant got chief today?”
I smile faintly, leaning on the counter.“Yeah.He did.”
“I’m so happy for him.”
“Me too.”I pick at a stray thread on my sleeve.“Dad was seriously considering giving it to Mason.I couldn’t let that happen.”
Scarlet raises an eyebrow.“Is that right?You stuck up for Brant?”
“Come on, as if I wouldn’t.I just reminded my dad what he already knew.That Brant’s the best person for the job.”
She grabs two glasses from her cabinet and pours the wine.
“Mason’s fine, but he’s not fit to run that ward.Not yet.”
“All right, all right,” she says with a knowing smirk.“Look at you, fighting for your man.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but there’s no bite to it.“He’s not my man.”
“I know.I’m clutching at straws, trying to get you to stay.”
I want to tell her that it’s not that simple, that even if Brant asked me to stay, I don’t know if I could.That I’ve built my entire future around New York, and I can’t just throw it away for something that was never supposed to be permanent.
But I don’t say any of that.Because maybe I’m the one clutching at straws too.
We clink glasses and sip.
There’s a lull as she stirs something on the stove, then she glances at me over her shoulder.
“Well, anyway.We’re gonna miss you.”
“I know.”My voice catches.“I’ll miss you too.”
Scarlet turns the heat down and sets the spoon aside.“What are you actually going to do when you get back to New York?”
“I mean, work, obviously.”
“No, I mean, like… do.What fun things are there waiting for you?”
I laugh.“Oh my God, so many.There’s Central Park in the spring, coffee that costs too much, a thousand museums, restaurants that stay open until two a.m.instead of nine-thirty…”
She grins, but her eyes soften.“It doesn’t have us, though.”
“No,” I say quietly as my chest aches.“It doesn’t.”
She moves to sit across from me at the island, legs crossed under her.“Did you ever see yourself staying here?Like… really staying?”
