I'm trying not to read too much into her breathy yes in the middle of a NY City sidewalk, but there's a massive amount of hope stirring in my chest while we walk to the closest bank to deposit her check.

"I think you should take mine too," I say when we reach the doors. "I don't care about the money. I've only ever wanted them to leave me alone."

She opens the glass door to the bank and calls over her shoulder, "You should deposit it. Maybe you can use it for a down payment on a house or a vacation somewhere you've always wanted to go."

Like the Scottish Highlands? Know anyone I can bunk with, Tay? Except I'm not pushing my luck, so none of those words leave my mouth. "This money makes me feel guilty."

She frowns and turns to face me in the line for a teller. "Why?"

"I've just made so many mistakes—with you, with Jada, with the other women. Maybe if I'd confronted GameSetMatch sooner..."

"Si, we just confronted them. What are they changing about their business model after talking to us?"

"Dick all," I admit.

"Exactly. We're just numbers to them. Numbers coming in. Numbers going out. They've branded themselves as an organization who can guarantee success, but the bar for success is so low, you made it over when you didn't even want to." She takes a deep breath.

"Neither of us can go back. We can't change any of the decisions or choices we've made so far. You've accepted a lot of the blame for how things went between us. But—" She tucks her hair behind her ears. "But I don't think I'm blameless. I knew something wasn't right with us six years ago, and I was too afraid to speak up because I didn't want to lose you...and then I ended up losing you anyway."

The teller calls her up, so I don't get a chance to respond. Her impending move to Scotland weighs heavily on my heart. Too late to change what's already done.

After we've both deposited our checks, I take out the NY City Guide from my back pocket and unfold it. "We're close to Central Park," I say. "And if I remember correctly, you've always wanted to do the rowboat thing."

She glances up at me, and her eyes are soft with something I don't dare name. "Yeah. Is that okay with you?"

I flex my bicep for her. "I could row us around a piddly lake."

A hint of a smile touches her lips, and she squeezes my arm. "You're right. These muscles could do it." She falls into step beside me. "Did you know they have egrets and herons and loons on the lake?"

On instinct, I kiss her temple and draw her into my side. "Trust you to know the local wildlife."

We wander toward the nearest entrance to Central Park, and Tayla's hand slides down my arm until our fingers are linked. Holding hands? My heart kicks. Don't question it. Don't read into it. You asked for one last good day, and you're getting it.

These are memories I'll carry with me when she boards the plane tomorrow. The reminder she's leaving makes my gut clench. Whatever she wants, I'm going to give and give and give until I've wrung myself dry. There will be lots of time for regrets, but I'm not going to let today, any part of today, be one of them.

When we get to the lake, I pay for the rowboat, and we climb aboard, laughing when the boat rocks so hard I'm sure one of us is going to topple in. Once we're settled, I follow Tayla's direction and we row out into the lake, careful to carve our own space.

"So, why Scotland?" There's no point in pretending it's not happening. Tomorrow she'll be gone.

She bites her lip and doesn't meet my gaze. "Angus was the first one to email me?"

That sounds desperate more than determined, and my inkling about her reasoning for going to Scotland spreads. "You only get limited options for the exchange?"

She sighs and leans back on her elbows staring out over the water. "I have no idea. I applied when I'd had a bit too much wine, and I replied to say yes in a burst of pettiness."

"Well, that's..." I struggle with how to respond. "Honest."

"Now I'm—Now I'm having emailer's remorse." Her voice grows thick.

"Tay, if you don't want to go—"

"I can't back out now. I leave tomorrow. Angus is arriving at my house sometime today. It's too late for backing out. Maybe once I get there, it'll be great. Maybe I'll love it."

Except she's already clearly miserable, and in my experience, going into anything new with so much reluctance doesn't tend to turn out well. "Okay," I say carefully. "Tell me one thing you're excited about."

"Easy. The farm." She takes a deep breath. "Only I'm a bit worried about figuring out how to balance the work."

"Angus must have help?" The rowing rhythm is soothing and makes it a little less stressful to discuss her walking out of my life.

"He's been doing it alone, but he's left me the contact for some people I can hire if it's too much for me."

"I wish I had some good advice for you, but I've lived in the same apartment in the same part of the city since I left college. I didn't even go to college out of state." Up until now, how stationary I'd always been hadn't occurred to me. Could I do what Tayla's doing? Would I even want to?

"But you like to travel." She meets my gaze. "You've always liked to travel."

"One thing to vacation. A whole other thing to transplant your life someplace else." For the most part, I've been content with my life in Grand Rapids. Not sure I could ever label my days and nights as happy anymore, but I'm not unhappy either.

"You don't think you could do it?"

"Move to another country like you're doing?"

"Yeah."

Is this a test? If she asked me, I'd go. "For the right reason—for the right person—I'd move in a heartbeat."

"You don't think you'd feel like you were giving up too much? Your apartment, your job, visits with your sister's kids..."

There's a chance I'm reading her line of questioning wrong. Is she considering asking me? Would she do that? "Do you feel like you're giving up too much?"

Her expression is thoughtful as she searches my face. "I don't know yet."

Well, all right, then. Throw down the gauntlet, and I'll wade through the blows. If she hasn't made up her mind, I'll give her something else to think about. "I don't think I'd feel like I was giving up too much, in a situation like yours, since it's only a year."

"A lot can happen in a year," she says, her voice quiet. "People move on, go in different directions."

  "Depends on if there's something worth waiting for, I guess." If she's not going to ask me to come, if she's trying to suggest I wait for her, I can cover that answer too. Any sliver of hope I'll grasp. I've already waited six years. What's one more?

"I guess, yeah." Her voice is wistful, and she stays focused on the view. "I think maybe I'm just nervous because it's such a big change. Once I get there, I'll be fine."

All the hope blooming inside me withers and dies. She'll be fine without me. Will I ever be fine without her?  

~ * ~

It's a gorgeous summer day, so we spend the rest of our daylight hours wandering Central Park and occasionally dipping out to sample other highlights of New York City. After our conversation in the rowboat, Tayla steers clear of her impending trip, laughing or chatting about whatever comes to mind while clinging to my hand, my bicep, her arms slung around my waist. Apparently she's not just an octopus in her sleep.

The connection should buoy me up. It almost feels like she's not leaving at all, that maybe we're a couple on a long weekend away.

But in the back of my mind, there's a constant niggling of this is the last, and while I try not to let it tinge our interactions, it's not easy to pretend to be carefree when my heart is so fucking heavy.

"Dinner?" I suggest when she mentions her feet are aching from all our walking.

She bites her lip and checks the time on her phone. "An early one? At the hotel? My flight is so early. They have some sort of rooftop bar and restaurant. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

"It's your last night in America. Whatever you want, I'll deliver." My smile is fleeting.

Our hands reconnect, and then she lets go to wrap her arms around me as we walk the few blocks back to our hotel. I'm not sure how to take this clinginess, but I'm worried if I point it out, she'll go back to building a wall of pillows between us.

She's nervous and afraid about leaving. I'm the only familiar person in NY, so I'm probably reading more into her behavior than I should. If she wanted me to come with her, or if she wanted me to wait a year, she'd ask, wouldn't she? Is it fair for me to suggest either one? The whole reason, as far as I can tell, that she took the exchange was to get away from me. Inserting myself isn't exactly giving her the space she was so keen to achieve.

We shift around each other in the tiny hotel room, bodies grazing, gazes connecting, and the atmosphere is charged with sexual tension, once muted, now cranked to full blast. The ruse is wearing thing, and I'm not sure how much longer I can pretend we're solid and happy and in love before my heart cracks open at her feet.

"It's been a good day, hasn't it?" she whispers, her honey brown eyes on mine when I come out of the bathroom, showered and dressed for dinner. 

"The best." My voice is gruff because I've just spent the last fifteen minutes steeling myself to let her go tomorrow. Twelve hours. Her reminder of how good we can be together slices through me.

We take the fire exit up to the top floor, and her hand is tiny in mine. Across from each other at the table, I search her face, and it's the first time I've sensed sadness clinging to her the same way it's been clinging to me.

"Thank you," I say after the waiter has taken our order and we're alone with our drinks.

"For what?" A hint of a smile.

"For giving us today. I'm gonna—" I clear my throat. "I'm gonna cherish the memories from today."

Tears fill her eyes, and she breaks eye contact. "I don't want to be sad, okay? Tomorrow is going to be shitty no matter what, but I don't want it to bleed into today."

I take a deep, shuddering breath. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Fall apart. Seems easy enough, right? "Yeah. Okay." I rub my face and stare out at the view across the city. "Is your brother going to come visit you?"

She perks up at the shift in topic, and she's off on a ramble about her brother. While she talks, I sip my beer and drink her in, savor the surrealness of having her across a table from me, giving me pieces of herself.  

"Do you ever think there's people we're meant to meet?" I ask when she peters out.

She gives me a wry smile. "Like a soulmate?"

An answering smile tips the edges of my mouth. "Despite the shittiness of GameSetMatch, I actually do believe there are some connections that are once in a lifetime."

"So, what's the point when it doesn't work out?"

I suck in a sharp breath. Sadness isn't allowed but apparently bluntness is fair game. "I'd like to think we learn something from all those people in one way or another."

She takes a gulp of her wine. "What'd you learn from me?"

"How important it is to be honest." There's no hesitation. Had I been honest with her six years ago, 6 weeks ago, our lives would be completely different. Today wouldn't have been a bittersweet dream, it'd be my reality. She would have clung to me because she loves me, not because she's afraid to leave everything she's ever known.

"Tell me your truth right now. Tell me something you don't think I want to hear."

The challenge is clear. She wants ugly, but there's no ugliness left. There's just my heart in tatters, but I'm fairly sure she doesn't want it. Whatever hope rose between us earlier, her comment about relationships not working out is a clear retreat. This is our last hurrah.

I take a deep breath and maintain eye contact because I want her to know I mean this, mean it with everything in me. "I'd toss out my whole life and follow you to Scotland if you asked. I'd do long distance like a champ for a year if you wanted me to wait. Hell, I'd just wait, even if we weren't together, even if you wanted the year to be sure I was worth it. I'd wait as long as you wanted."

Her eyes have grown very wide, and glassy. "I don't—I don't know what to say."

"It's okay," I say, dropping my gaze from hers as the waiter approaches with our food. "You don't have to say anything, but that's my truth." My heart is beating a heavy staccato in my ears, and the food, which looks delicious, could be rocks for all the taste I'm absorbing while I chew.

"I feel like." Tayla pushes the pasta around on her plate. "I feel like I should say something."

I shake my head and cut into my steak. "I get that I'm out on this ledge by myself. I ruined us, right? I don't need you to take pity on me and say things you don't mean or give me some half-truths to make me feel better." I steel my resolve and meet her gaze. "You asked, and I told you. It doesn't have to be more than that."

"What if." Her voice is thick.

I hang on her unfinished words.

Reads: 46249 Unique reader: Wattpad is broken 🙃