Page 76 of Piece By Piece

She stared at the wall between the two shops, the same wall she’d pressed her hand against, listening to his music.

The same wall where she’d heard him moving behind it, rearranging his careful life.

A few inches of plaster separating two people who had spent weeks learning to be honest with each other.

Except, as it appeared now, one of them hadn’t been.

He’d known.

He had known about this.

The offer. Seattle. The deadline.

He’d known, and he hadn’t told her.

He had kissed her at the marsh and hidden the word STAY in the crossword and said, “You are the first thing I think of in the morning.”

And the whole time there was an email in his inbox asking him to leave, giving him a way out.

The hurt wasn’t that he had an opportunity.

She knew about ambition.

She knew about career decisions and hard choices.

The hurt was about him leaving without telling her.

The hurt was the silence, the locked door, the four-word text messages, the way that he was withdrawing and disappearing instead of staying.

And he just continued to stand on the other side of the invisible glass.

Liza walked to his shop.

The door was unlocked this time.

The bell chimed.

Grant was behind the counter.

When he saw her face, he seemed to know.

She could see it, that recognition, the way he was bracing himself, the way his whole body went still, like an animal that knew it had been spotted by a predator.

“A reporter called me,” she said.

She kept her voice as controlled as possible, flat even.

“Rachel, with Puzzling Games Weekly. She wanted to talk about the Meridian Games acquisition of the W. Elliott brand.”

Grant closed his eyes, as if to wish it all away.

“Seattle, Grant. A two-year residency and your end-of-the-month deadline.”

Her voice cracked on the word deadline, just slightly.

“When were you going to tell me?”

He finally opened his eyes.