“I just need some space.” My lip wobbles, but I stick to my guns. “I’ll see you back in New York, okay?” “No,” he whispers. “Don’t do this.” I shake my head. “We need to think. I know we keep avoiding the conversation, but we’re heading in different directions. You’re going to be living somewhere else soon, and you can’t do things like this when it’s your job. I have the diner, and I can’t—I can’t watch you sabotage yourself like this for me. What happens the next time I’m upset, but you have to play? What if I have an emergency, but it’s the playoffs and you can’t get away?” “We’ll figure it
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