Page 72 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

Whoever was on the other end of the line talked for a bit, longer than they had spoken up until that point, if the length ofthe pause was any indication, and Ethan made a few noncommittal hums in response.

“Yes,” he said finally. “We’re packing up and we’re going. I’ll take care of all the socials back in New York. Okay. Yes. Sorry. Okay. Bye.”

He hung up and sighed deeply. So deeply, she could feel it like a gust of wind down the stairs. With nothing to lose, she decided to reveal herself.

“Tough call?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. Ethan had his back turned to her, slumped in the doorjamb of the dining area, one shoulder resting on the wooden frame. At the sound of her voice, he startled and whirled around.

Seeing who it was, he seemed to relax, but only slightly.

“You could say that,” he said, his voice soft and self-deprecating. “My boss apparently has zero faith in my abilities.”

“The audacity,” she deadpanned, warming when she saw his somber expression softening a bit at her gentle jab.

It was only a beat or two before his expression changed again, now thoughtful and serious. “We need to go,” he said finally. “Get this goddamn circus out of here so you can get back to normal again.”

She was about to protest, to say that she didn’t mind, that it was par for the course, but the fact of the matter was…he was right.

There was no longer a place for them here. Any of them. The rosy hue of the early days had faded, and the reality of the situation was settling in fast and deep. She needed to get things in order, to right the place again, and she needed to do it without Ethan here.

But—

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she pushed the side button to silence it without even pulling it out. Now was not the time—not for her grandfather or whoever it was. If it was an emergency, they would call back.

More pressing were her current concerns: What was going to happen to them? What did Ethan’s leaving mean for…whatever it was they had awoken, ignited, between them?

As if he could read her mind, he sighed. “But what about…us? About this?”

Stay. The word came unbidden from somewhere deep inside, a place she hadn’t unlocked in years—eight years, to be exact. It was impossible, she knew, and more than that, it wouldn’t work. Stay and do what? Run the bed-and-breakfast with her? Do his actual job five hours away from his office? From the hub of where he needed to be?

No. The best thing to do, for both of them, was to let him go.

“Ethan,” she said gently, trying to make it seem as though she were softening the blow for him rather than trying to hide the sound of her own heart breaking, “you know as well as I do, there is nous.”

He blinked hard, his jaw set tightly, but said nothing. She continued.

“It was nice to see you and nice to…” How was she going to finish that sentence.Fuck?“…reconnect. But I think we both know that there is no future for you here. Just like there’s no future for me in New York. And the best thing either of us can do is just”—she shrugged, swallowing hard, willing her voice to come out steady—“let each other go.”

“What if I don’twantto let you go?” His voice did him no favors, coming out ragged and hoarse. “What if I can’t?”

“You can,” she said, nodding slowly, forcing the tears to recede. “You have before.”

“Stop throwing that in my face,” he snapped, and she looked up at him sharply, eyes narrowing.

Here she was, trying to be magnanimous, to make the right decision for both of them, and he was giving herattitude?

“It was a goddamn mistake, okay? A mistake that cost me eight years of—” He cut himself off, swearing curtly under his breath. He had to compose himself, taking two or three uneven breaths before continuing in a tone that wasn’t quite steady. “Eight years ofyou. Of my Gem.”

Her breath caught.Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.It was a mantra in her head, to him, to herself. To the universe.Don’t do this.Let me move on. It almost killed me once. But I can do it again.

“We will always have this, Ethan,” she said hoarsely, the tears a certainty now and not just a threat. “We will always have us. Maybe it won’t look the same as it did when we were kids, but at least we had this time together. You will always be important to me.”

“Don’t.” It was barely a whisper. “Don’t do that. I don’t want to be a photograph in a box. Not like that, Gem.”

She was already shaking her head. “You’d never be just a photograph, Ethan. You’re—you’re all the mementos, all the souvenirs. You’re the ripple on the lake, the wet footprints on the dock. You’re the”—she let out a watery laugh—“the red Solo cup and the burnt grilled cheese sandwiches. You’re the smell of bonfire and sunsets. You’re—” The tears were flowing freely now, and she did nothing to curb them, because there were his, too, turning his blue eyes into sapphires as he silently looked at her. “You’re the warmth of a hug in a sweater thatsmells like my mom’s laundry detergent.” She shook her head and let out a sob. “This isn’t me, all this flowery shit. But just know that, Ethan. I can’t name all the things you are, because you areeverything.”

“So, then—” But she knew what he was going to say. It was going to be some version ofStay,come with me,be with me. And she couldn’t bear it. Because for once, her life wasn’t defined by him—by anyone—and the thought of losing that terrified her more than being alone ever could.

“No.” She shook her head. “We need to let each other go. It’s for the best.”