Page 127 of The Replay

"I will miss you," I admit. "Of course I will."

"And maybe, if you find the space while watching a sunset or while walking among ancient trees, you'll think of us ending things."

The warmth that gained speed inside turns cold. It stops dead on its tracks.

"Wait. What?" I blink at him.

My face hardens, like it has lost all ability to emote. A two-ton concrete block has landed on my chest. I don't get it. Why would he want me to think of us eventually ending things? We have a few weeks. I still need to prepare for the transition, find my replacement, plan the next season with them… I could be here until the summer! So for him to bring it up now…

"Are you breaking up with me?" I ask. "But we're not in a relationship— the arrangement and— Dom. Are you ending this?!"

That would be one hell of a way to get what he wanted. That 'telling me no for once' he was waiting for— rejecting me. Building up my dreams, only to knock me down when I'm mellow and unsuspecting.

"Mari—"

"Right before Christmas?!" My voice comes out as a hiss.

He lifts placating hands to me. "No. Mariana. Listen."

He's asking me to be patient. All of a sudden, I'm incapable of it. My heart beats too hard, and my blood is too loud in my ears, and my lungs struggle against the resistanceof my ribs.

But he's not vengeful. Even when he was angry at me, he wasn't cruel. My anxiety may be trying to shove me down the worst path possible, but I know better. I know him.

I stop him with a hand. "What is happening?"

"Listen. Please."

He takes the hand I hold between us and brings it to him, until we interlock fingers and we rest them on the fountain. It's a small gesture, but I need it. So I don't pull away from this either, despite the eyes that could catch us and jump to conclusions.

I take deep breaths and watch him closely.

"Mari." His thumb makes passes on my skin. "I haven't had a lot of time to think this through but— fuck, I need to try. So listen, okay? Please."

I gulp. I don't say anything, but nod. We don't have much time.

He takes a quick breath, like he's bracing for something. "I want you to think of that final break up we promised, not because I want us to end any time soon, but because we'll be apart for a week. Maybe— maybe we can see it as an opportunity. Maybe this break will help you imagine what it might be like to fully end things. Because if there's any part of you who hates it, you might want to talk to me about how that feels, and all the things we could do to prevent it from getting worse."

I breathe through my confusion, and the pain that's already threatening to stab me point blank.

I frown. "Of course I'm going to hate breaking up with you. I don't need to think too hard to know that."

Or else I'll have to admit just how much I'm going to hurt, and every implication that comes from that.

"Just— think about it, okay?" he insists. "We won't talk on the phone. We won't text. For a week, let's pretend we're over. If we hate it— maybe it's a sign. Maybe we can shift perspectives here. What do you really want us to fix? What do we need to do differently?"

"Dom. Just tell me. These questions— What do you want me to understand?"

"We'll talk after the gala."

"I can't wait until the gala! Don't do that to me. Waiting is the worst. I can't."

"I shouldn't tell you now. We don't have time. And you need— you deserve a chance to figure out what you want, properly, before we talk about everything. If you don't think being apart is a big deal, then that's important too."

"Dom—"

"Go away and think." He squeezes my hand. "Come back from your trip with what you want to do about next year, and about us and our agreement to end things without any big feelings. Because if you don't feel much of anything this week, then that can help us decide on a plan, as much as you might hate it. We'll talk then."

"What I want to do…" I gaze into his intense eyes. "What do you want to do about it, Dom?"