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I thought I could pretend it away. I could distract myself with painting or art, or something else to fill my time and keep me thinking of the man that seems to know what I need before I ask for it.

The panic comes fast.

My chest locks. My throat closes. My vision blurs at the edges and suddenly I can't be here. I can't stand on this terrace with climbing roses and a harbor view and a man who is everything I want and nothing I'm allowed to keep.

"I can’t be here," I blurt out.

I turn.

"Aria—"

I walk past him.

Then faster.

Then I'm running.

Down the stairs, through the narrow streets, until I’m past the painted buildings and the iron balconies and the shutters in faded green and blue. My sandals slap against cobblestones. The evening air rushes past my face, warm and salty but sweet.

I hear him behind me.

His footsteps. Faster than mine. His longer strides taking up the space.

"Aria. Stop."

I don't stop.

I can't.

Because if I stop I'll have to look at him and if I look at him he'll see it. He'll see everything. And then he'll say something to soften the blow. He’ll remind me that this is all a contract and that he warned me not to fall in love with him. He’ll tell me about how we agreed this was temporary, and I won’t come back from it.

His hand catches my arm. It’s not rough but it’s firm.

He pulls me sideways, off the main street and into a narrow alley between two buildings. Stone walls on either side. A single lamp above casting warm light down onto us. Hidden from the street and the village and everyone except the two of us.

"Aria." His voice is low. Controlled. But only barely. "Look at me."

I shake my head.

My back hits the wall behind me. I didn't realize I was retreating until the stone stopped me.

"Hey." He steps closer. Both hands on my shoulders now. Ducking his head to find my eyes. "Hey. Talk to me."

The tears come before I can stop them.

Not quiet, dignified tears. The ugly kind. The kind that take your whole face and your whole breath and leave you gasping.

"I'm scared," I say, and the words come out broken. "I'm so scared that I'll never find what they had."

His hands tighten on my shoulders.

"My parents fell in love here," I say, and I'm crying openly now, not even trying to hide it. "In this village. In this light. Under these same roses. And it was real. It was the most real thing I've ever known about another person. And she's gone. And his mind is going. And I'm standing here in the same place and I'm terrified that—"

My voice cracks.

"That what?" he says quietly.

"That maybe I'll never let myself have it." I look up at him through blurred eyes. "That I've been so afraid of losing people that I won't ever let someone in far enough for it to matter. That I'll spend my whole life protecting myself from the thing that would make me most alive."