“Can you see yourself building a life here? Someday, maybe?” I ask, still not able to look up. “Can you see yourself building a life in California?” is her answer, and damnit, she’s right. At this stage, I can’t. But I love you, is on the tip of my tongue. But it’s not fair, to her or to me. If she doesn’t want to set down roots here, for herself, I can’t be the reason for her to. I’m not enough of a reason. I think she very well could be enough of a reason for me, though. I think if she asked me to go with her, I couldn’t deny her. And that realization terrifies me enough that I need to get
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