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“I can’t afford to be frivolous and free. We lived in such a decadent bubble where I could be impulsive and light, but that’s not how the world works. I had to grow back up when we threw Ethan and life in the mix. He didn’t understand how to parent. It was never going to work. We tried, and it didn’t work.”

I’m trying to convince myself I don’t miss him. I clench my fists. Oh my God. I’m compartmentalizing the pain instead of feeling it. That’s what he said to me.

“And all of this was because he found your son drunk, put him to bed, and took away his screens? Sounds pretty parent-y to me.”

“You don’t understand.” I cross my legs at the ankle and turn toward her. “Your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

She shrugs and quickly tries to fix it. “All due respect, what it sounds like is you didn’t want to share Ethan. The man signed up for all of it. He cashed that check, took it to the bank, and signed it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I sit farther back on the couch.

“Slapping down the cash and calling it how it is. Betting it all on black.” Meg is a lunatic. I laugh at her.

“He dove in, changed his life despite his fears, and he loved being with Ethan and you. You didn’t get the memo. I cry bullshit on you.” She stands up and snags her toe on the edge of the rug. “I hate this rug.” She catches herself on her desk. Then sips a bottle of water as if nothing happened.

“Bullshit what?”

“We’ve been close for a couple of years now. I’ve seen you without Liam: good friend, great mom, miserable gal. Be the other Jillien. Seems simple. You need to dig way the hell down into your dark and twisty well. Everyone has always let you down, so you believe everyone always will. You coddle your son so he doesn’t feel disapproved or disappointed.”

I stand up. “That’s quite enough.”

She shrugs. She has no filter and rarely thinks before she speaks. Her brain works so quickly it’s four steps ahead at all times, so she misses things in front of her. It makes her an infectious leader and employee, but I don’t need that in a friend.

“Probs not, but it’s enough for now. Look, my mom is bipolar. Huge swings each way. I grew up in an unpredictable world where I didn’t ever trust the good because the bad always followed. And then there was Jake. And I bask in my happiness every fucking day. Lay down your self-righteous sword and be happy. You can’t control shit. No one can. Hell, I fucked the wrong rock star for, like, six months trying to control the universe.”

“Focus.”

“Right. Sorry. You’re not obligated to provide your father’s happiness any more than I’m obligated to regulate my mother. It took me a minute, but you should probably get your shit together about it all, too. I can see you’re about to cut me off and bury whatever I’ve said in your twisty well. Cool. Good plan.”

I turn and huff out of the room. She cannot talk to me like that. I am not coddling Ethan.

Meg yells down the hallway from her doorframe. “You just don’t want to believe you can share the burden. Liam isn’t your ex, and he isn’t your other friends and boyfriends. And he isn’t your father. You made him open up, and now you’re shutting your shit down.”

Thank God no one else is in the office, or we’d have words about professionalism.

I keep walking. She shouts after me, “I’ll be here when you calm down and see I’m right. I used to suck at my own life, but I’ve always been fabulous with telling others what to do.”

Until Jake. His love for her was big enough to carry them through all her doubts and false starts. I heard the whole story.

I sit and pull my legs up under my chin on my own office couch. I don’t know what to do. I miss him so desperately. I want to call him and tell him I don’t know how to do this. Maybe he lied and he’s still in the city. Perhaps he’s at his stupid little rental downtown. Perhaps I still have a chance.

I wave my key and run past the front desk, and they nod in acknowledgment. That’s a good sign. I mash the buttons and input my key card to access his floor. I don’t know what I’m going to say. I only know we need to keep talking. I’m not even sure what the hell happened, but I know I love him. I miss him, and I don’t want to miss him this much.

I run down the hallway and see a cleaning crew stepping out of his apartment. I stand opposite the door, up against the wall. His door is propped open as the people collect their vacuums and mop buckets. I stare at an empty apartment. Not even the shitty furniture is in there. Tears flow as if I’ve never cried before. He left me. I might have had a hand in pushing him in that direction, but he left. We promised brutal honesty; I broke the promise, but he didn’t. He told me he was leaving, and he did.

I compose myself for a moment and dial his office.

“Liam Fletcher, please.”

“He’s not in. May I take a message and have him get back to you?”

I grin as an idea takes hold. I wonder if he’s at a hotel.

“Is it possible to slide into his schedule for tomorrow or the next day? I just need a fifteen minute window.” Tomorrow would be perfect. It will give me time to formulate my case.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Fletcher no longer works out of this office. Can I refer you to his colleague?”

I’m a sobbing mess instantly. I blubber at the poor woman, “No. No, nothing to be done.” I hang up my phone, and the cleaning crew hands me a roll of toilet paper and heads down the hallway. I limp to his door and open it with my key. On the other side, I lock it behind me, slide down the door and fall apart. Not only have I fucked it all up, but I also don’t know how to fix it.