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“In Norfolk?”

“In England,” she said, beginning to grow exasperated because really, was he trying to be difficult? “I own a business—or at least half of one.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You own half of one. It sounds like your sister is managing just fine. You could sell the business to her.”

Izzie laughed in disbelief. “I can’t do that, but, more importantly, I won’t do that.”

Jack frowned, what she was saying seeming to finally make its way through to him. “But I thought that we—”

“We like each other, but we hardly know each other really,” she said, good sense finally penetrating her romance-addled brain.

His brow furrowed deeper. “I already said we would write to each other. We would see each other whenever we could. People have married after less. Didn’t you say your friend Nancy was ready to get married to that RAF pilot who died?”

“But you don’t love me,” she said.

“Sure I do,” he said. “You’re beautiful. You’re caring. You’re intelligent. I think you’re just about the best girl I’ve ever met.”

They were all compliments, so why, when he strung them together like that, did it all feel so… impersonal?

“Izzie, I know this is all very new to you, and maybe it was a bad idea to spring it on you. Why don’t you take some time while I’m gone and think about it?” He caught her hand and shot her that smile that had made her so weak when she first met him. “Miss me a bit.”

She freed her hand again and crossed her arms over her chest. How was it that all his flirtatious, chipper confidence now felt as ill-fitting as a badly cut jacket?

“If I did decide that I loved you and I wanted to marry you, would you move to London after the war?” she asked.

He hesitated but then shook his head. “I have a business back home, Izzie.”

“I have a business back home, Jack.”

“Come on, now. There’s no need to take that tone.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I thought that you might like the idea of starting again. Getting away from it all.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I just thought most women don’t want to work if they don’t have to. I’m telling you that you don’t have to work.”

“Make no mistake, Jack, I want to work,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine. You could start a shop in Newton or Des Moines. Bring a little bit of British tailoring to the Midwest,” he said.

“Why should I be the one to leave my business behind?” she asked.

“You have Sylvia,” he said.

She had Sylvia, and for the first time in a long time that felt like it meant something.

“And you have Louis.”

Jack stared at her and then stepped back. He scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

“Maybe this all was too fast,” he finally said.

“I think it probably was.” She’d become swept up in the romance of him, the good looks and the charming ease with which he moved through the world. He’d given her all the attention she’d never experienced from a man before and it had been intoxicating, but she was not a naive ingenue. Far from it. She was a woman with her own life and her own dreams, and she was not willing to throw them away on a man who didn’t understand the most fundamental thing about her.

“There’s something here, Izzie. I know there is.”

“I think you’re right, Jack, but I also don’t know that either of us will ever be willing to budge.” One of them would have to accept that unhappiness would be a part of their life.

“I think I could love you,” he tried again.