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His words latched like a leech.

Why say he still loves me if he’s just going to leave right afterward? Why go on about being patient and then say the most intimate words that could ever be said? One second I start to think I understand him, and the next it’s like we have our wires crossed.

I can’t shake the feeling that maybe he walked out because he was afraid of what I’d say. Or more specifically, what I wouldn’t say.

I started unpacking this morning to keep myself distracted.

The photo of Graham and me that Sean mentioned, is sitting at the top of the second box I open.

It’s our elopement photo. I was holding my bouquet and we were both smiling at one another.

He did look handsome that day.

He’s got a face that you almost want to punch because it’s so attractive. His jet-black hair sticks out against my bright blonde. I had dyed it lighter back then. I looked really thin that day—probably from all the pressure of marrying someone that didn’t truly love me.

I was so naive to think our relationship would last. There were so many signs—but sometimes you choose to ignore them because you hope for the best.

When I think about our marriage, I think about how stupid I was for getting married so young and it couldn’t have ever lasted.

But then I see Sean, someone I loved when I was even younger than when I was with Graham. I picture what life would have been like if Sean would’ve been the one I married. We’d probably have a baby or two. A house on the river. That was always the dream with him.

I toss the picture frame into the bag with last nights take out and continue rummaging through everything, making piles.

Sean walks straight through the front door at 11:59 a.m. without knocking and with two large coffees in hand.

I guess I forgot to lock the door last night after he left.

His shoulders are damp, as is his hair. It’s been raining all morning. I don’t know how we’re going to protect the couch in the back of his truck.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, handing me one of the coffees. “I’m just going to go right out and say it—I’m so sorry about last night. I tend to let my emotions overshadow my common sense. I didn’t mean to put you in that spot right after talking about how I didn’t want to push you.”

He’s clearly been dying to say it; he breathes out heavily, his eyes sunken in.

At least I wasn’t the only one losing sleep.

“It’s alright, really. Just forget about it,” I say.

His eyebrows furrow as he loses his footing for a moment.

“No, I don’t mean forget about it. I mean, it’s just—”

Sean cuts me off with laughter, his face completely zen now. He’s quick to switch emotions.

“Bee.” He steps closer to me, grabbing both my arms in his hands, shaking me. “You don’t have to say anything.”

I let out a sharp puff in relief.

My phone begins buzzing off the counter. Since I left New York, Maggie texts me throughout the day—every day.

I really miss her. Even when I was married, we’d get lunch or breakfast most days. I only worked part-time at the bookstore, so I had a lot of extra time on my hands.

“Maggie?” Sean asks.

I nod.

“Still pressuring you to visit? You should just give in already.”

“I’d love to see her, but I’m not so sure I’m ready to go back to Brooklyn. I mean I’m still unpacking for crying out loud. I just left.”