“Tessa… you can’t be fucking—” He looks into my eyes and stops midsentence. “How much time?” “What?” “How much time apart?” “I…” I didn’t expect him to agree. “I don’t know.” “A week? A month?” He pushes for specifics. “I don’t know, Hardin. We both need to get ourselves to a better place.” “You’re my better place, Tess.”
