He digs a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying that we can get past this.” I set my suitcase down and perch on the edge of the bed. “That’s just the problem, Will. You can get past it. I can’t. If you wanted me enough, you could have had me. Or you could have asked me to wait until I graduated. But you didn’t, and you won’t, and do you know how hard it is to have to look at you?” My voice grows raspy and I pause because I refuse to cry over him again. “To look at you and know that you made your choice and you didn’t choose me?”
