“What time’s dinner?” he asked.
“Seven.”
“I can help. What should I chop?”
His phone buzzed.
My stomach tightened before I could stop it.
Ben read the message and typed a reply.
“I can help.”
“What was it?”
“They wanted me to cover Friday.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
Then mine buzzed.
A client wanted me for an event on that Friday.
“I said no.”
I looked at Ben.
“I’ve got work…”
“I’m free. Take it, sweetheart. Olive and I will go on an adventure.”
A year earlier, I would’ve arranged my life around his before he even asked.
This time, I didn’t.
“I will.”
“I’m free. Take it, sweetheart.”
For eleven years, I had thought love meant adjusting quietly enough that the other person never noticed what it cost.
I was done with that version.
Ben hadn’t brought me to Oregon.
I hadn’t followed him.
We had built something new together, and this time my life wasn’t the part that disappeared to make his possible.
