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“I'll miss you.” His eyes stay on mine. “Cami will miss you. Everyone will.”

My chest hurts.

“But missing you isn't the same thing as losing you.”

I swallow. “What if I end up traveling more?”

“Then we figure it out.”

“What if it's a lot?”

“Then we figure out what a lot means.”

“What if—”

“You haven't even gone once yet.”

I close my mouth.

Micah's thumb moves across my knee.

“You've turned four weeks in March into a world tour and a custody agreement.”

“I like to plan.”

“No, Ronan likes to plan. You catastrophize with enthusiasm.”

Fair.

I lean my head back against the mattress. “It feels like leaving everyone and everything.”

“It isn't.”

“Twenty-eight days.”

“You don't have to stay twenty-eight straight days.”

I look at him. “What?”

“Come home one weekend.”

My brain stalls.

Micah watches it happen. “You're allowed to get on a plane.”

“I—”

“Denver isn't on another continent.”

“No.”

“You could leave Friday night and go back Sunday.”

I stare at him. “That seems obvious now that you've said it.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”