‘Give it a year,’ she said as though she could tell what he was thinking, like she could feel his indecision, caught between his fear of staying and his fear of leaving. ‘A year?’ ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Give it a year. A year to travel around, a year to figure it out, to decide what type of Mac you want to be.’ ‘And then what?’ he asked, wanting more of Annie’s plan for him, already feeling better now that she was putting parameters on this crazy idea of his. ‘And then,’ she whispered, moving closer, letting her fingers run through his hair, ‘and then you come back to me.’
