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I’m reliving the worst day of my life, only this time, she didn’t send me away.

FORTY-SEVEN

TALIA

And just like that, I’m alone again.

Tate’s absence leaves the air stagnant, the misery accompanying his departure overpowering all the good and happiness and love we’d rebuilt.

I clutch my stomach, worried I’m about to vomit all over the front yard.

It isn’t the same as last time, yet somehow it’s worse.

I should’ve burned those fucking papers the moment they came into existence. They’re a result of the fears I’m trying so hard to overcome. I might not have sent him away this time, but my actions and fear of being abandoned by the one person in this world who knew me so innately certainly did.

I find the will to go inside, but the moment my bare feet hit the cool tiled floor in the foyer, I want to leave.

But where do I go?

My friends have lives of their own.

And Tate is gone.

I stare at his watch. He’s gone when I only just got him back. The quiet, rational part of my brain tries to tell me it isn’t permanent, he made that clear, but the pain digs its claws into me all the same.

This time, I don’t hide from the reminders of him littered throughout the house. I go in search of them, ending in our bedroom. I collapse onto the bed, peppermint and bergamot lulling me to sleep.

Hours later, I wake disoriented, Tate’s watch hanging from my wrist, the pillow damp under my cheek. For a nanosecond, I forget the disaster that unraveled hours earlier.

I’m leaving this with you, so you know I’m coming home.

When I check the time on my phone, there’s a missed call from Annie.

He wouldn’t have told her what’s going on, but I need a familiar voice to quiet the wreckage in my head.

Annie picks up after three rings. “Don’t panic. Tate hates it when I call unexpectedly, always thinking I’ve hurt myself. The boy worries too much.”

I swallow, trying to hide the pain in my voice. “He loves his momma, that’s why.”

She doesn’t speak for a beat. “What’s wrong?”

Her intuition is impressive. “Nothing. I think I’m coming down with something.”

I can practically hear her eyes narrowing with suspicion through the phone. “Do I need to fly out there and bump your heads together? I should’ve done that to begin with, and maybe the two of you wouldn’t have spent the last year apart.” She sighs. “I have no problem siding against my son. You know this.”

My smile is weak. “I’m the one at fault.”

“Ah. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Not really.” I pluck a dark-blond hair off Tate’s pillow and hold it up to the light. “But I don’t know who else to tell.”

Annie stays quiet for an impressive amount of time while I relay the events from this afternoon. She passes no judgment, only hums and ahs along with the story until I’m finished and fighting off another bout of tears.

“Do you want my advice or for me to keep my opinion to myself?”

I worry my lip. “Your advice, even if I regret it.”

Never one to beat around the bush, she dives right in. “As perfect as you are for one another, you view the world differently. I blame your parents for the way you never quite trust your heart, always second-guessing someone’s intentions. Tate, however, is optimistic to a fault, and when he came home this summer, he failed to see the mess he’d left behind. Seeing those papers finally made him realize how close he was to losing you for good, even if you never intended to serve them to him. I think you need to give him the space he gave you in return. He’ll come around. Just let him come to terms with it all and sort through the mess waiting for him in New York.”