Page 190 of Dream On, Liar

“I know.”

He came closer, stopping on the other side of the table. “Maeve.”

I hated the way he said my name. Gently. Carefully. As though he already knew I was about to hurt him and was trying not to make it harder.

“I don’t know how this works when we leave,” I said. “I don’t know what happens when we’re not here, when everything isn’t this easy.”

“It hasn’t been easy, We’ve just been too good at keeping each other occupied.”

“That’s true.” I swallowed. “But it’s been simple. Here, it’s just us. There’s no one else asking questions. No one reminding us what this is supposed to be.”

I felt him stiffen. “And what is it supposed to be?”

I looked at him then.

He was watching me with an openness that made it difficult to look away.

“I don’t know,” I said again, quieter this time.

His jaw tightened. “Do you want it to be something?”

The answer came too quickly. “Yes.”

The word frightened me as soon as it left my mouth.

His expression softened, but the uncertainty remained.

“But, just like you said. Wanting it doesn’t mean that it can happen the way we want.”

He looked away.

The silence that followed was worse than an argument would have been.

“I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” I said. “And I don’t want you to ask me to stay when you don’t know what you can give me.”

“I haven’t asked you to stay.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you saying?”

I stared at him, trying to find a version of the truth that would not hurt either of us.

“I’m saying that maybe this is easier if we stop before it becomes something we can’t survive.”

His face went still. And in that moment, I knew I had said the thing I had been trying not to say.

He took a breath. “Is that what you want?”

I wanted him to argue.

I wanted him to tell me I was wrong, that distance did not matter, that we could figure it out.

Instead, he only waited.

I looked down at my hands. “I think it’s what we should do.”

He nodded once, but there was nothing accepting about it. “Right.”