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I speak plainly, “You reminded me pain comes with immense joy. And now, I want it all. Up and down, joy and pain, laughter, and crying. I want it fucking all. I write uncompromising happy endings. I deserve one too.” In between hitched breaths, I utter, “And I wanted it with you, but now I know that’s not possible.”

He sits down as if I’ve deflated his tires.

“My whole life changes because you had an accident months ago, and it changed your whole world perspective?”

I collect myself. “Yes. And, well, you. You loving me changed me.”

“And you still love me?”

“I always will. I won’t know how to stop. I’ll just get used to the pain. But I love you completely.”

“And I love you.”

“But not completely.”

He says nothing. I’m not sure he can get to the same place ever. And what’s even more interesting is I don’t know why? I don’t know what holds him back. I’m just starting to understand my own ambition. I head to the door, leaving a part of me here and taking what’s left out that door to start again.

He takes my hand. “Tess. I can’t give over the pieces you want. That’s way too much power over me. I’m sorry. I can’t compromise myself because you evolved. Are we done?”

“I don’t know how to be done with you. But I’m done being someone’s side piece. Unless you can choose us, me, or even yourself first, then yes. It wasn’t a lie at the beginning. That’s who I was. But if I stay now, it will be a lie.”

Alex storms to the back, cleaning the grill. He only does it to think. I know what I have to do. I collect my laptop and work stuff and drop the bag at the door with the rest of my things.

Twenty minutes later, he steps in and sees me ready to go. I’m aching to tell him what to do. I want to smack him upside the head and knock some sense into his dumb ass. His beautiful dumb ass. I want him to choose me so fucking badly. I want him to choose us. I want him to bury his blind ambition and see me. Really see me. But he can’t.

He leans up on a wall opposite me. Alex looks wrecked and speaks with such vulnerability. But the words he says are the ones that will destroy the fabric of us. The words will be the ones that will take me to knees in grief, any hope squashed. I know this to be true before I even hear them.

“I don’t know how to put you into my life and not lose myself. I don’t know how to put anyone in there. There’s no room, just stolen pieces. Scraps of what I can cobble together of personal relationships. And then you. And it mattered if you were here. And you had no room. And so, we built around each other. And now we’re here, and it worked.”

“And now it doesn’t. I need my own space in your heart and world.”

“Jesus, my Tess. I don’t know how to make that space. I desperately wish I did. I’ve spent years, a decade closing out that space,” he says truly regretfully. “You’re leaving?” He looks at my suitcases. I was anyway, but now it has more weight.

“I have to.” The words steal my breath and steel my soul. I’m devastated but exhausted from trying to jam a round peg into my square life. I’d like him to want to move mountains for me. But his calendar’s too full.

I know sitting in the emergency room, waiting for a bed, my knee the size of a shotput, something altered. The reality of knowing I couldn’t really depend on him began our fracture. We got good at ignoring the crack. It helps to overlook things when you’re overscheduled and oversexed. He steps toward me as I bend down to get my bag.

“This hurts like hell,” he says as his voice cracks.

“I do love you. Hurts more than I ever knew was possible. It’s a deep physical pain that I’m hoping will go away one day. I’ve got to believe some fucking day it won’t hurt this much,” I blurt it out and sob on his shoulder while he comforts me. His arms wrap around me in a familiar but totally new way. Maybe I opened his eyes. Maybe someday he can let someone all the way in. I thought it would be me, and it’s freaking shocking it’s not. I walk away, and he stands there, wiping his glassy eyes. And then he shifts. I see him close down, and his eyes become a flat matte light brown.

“I’m so sorry. I have to go right now, or I may not be brave enough to do it.”

“I love you so much. I’m stunned you’re leaving,” Alex says resolutely, and I respond honestly.

“So am I. Shocked, really.”

“If you need this, ok. But can we just call it space?”

“No. It must be a line in the sand, or I’ll never survive this.”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Babe, no. We’re done. No calls. We’re over,” I say a little more cruelly.

He rushes to me and gets in my face. “We’ll see.”

I kiss him sweetly, and I still feel the same electricity between us. He pulls me closer, and I break away and walk out the door. I call a car and head for the airport. Nothing’s in Philly, and I’ve had enough of nothing. I won’t cry again until Joan and Daryll are making me banana bread and Old Fashioneds in New York.