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I look down at my hands.

“He’s different,” I continue.

“Not completely. He’s still Ross. He still likes control, and he still thinks three steps ahead of everyone in the room. But he listens now. He stops when I tell him to stop. He doesn’t decide what I’m feeling for me.”

Chloe is quiet for a moment before she answers.

“That matters,” she says.

“It does,” I reply.

Chloe watches me carefully. “So what aren’t you saying?”

I glance toward my phone again.

“He’s started talking about after London,” I say.

“What kind of talking?” Chloe asks.

“New York. California. Seeing me when this is over.”

“And what did you say?” she asks.

“Nothing useful.”

Chloe lets that settle before asking, “Have you thought about telling him?”

My stomach tightens.

“No,” I answer.

She doesn’t argue with me immediately, which somehow makes it worse.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I say.

Chloe nods. “I know.”

I look at her. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m wondering whether part of you has started reconsidering, even if you don’t want to admit it yet,” she says.

I shake my head. “I haven’t.”

But even as I say it, I know the answer isn’t as clean as it used to be.

I stand and walk toward the window, carrying the phone with me.

“Sometimes he does something,” I say.

“Something small.”

Chloe stays quiet and lets me continue.

“He’ll tilt his head when he’s concentrating, and I see Wells. Or he’ll lift one eyebrow when he thinks someone is being ridiculous, and suddenly it’s Miles.”

My throat tightens.

“It catches me off guard every time,” I say.