He leaned in and kissed my cheek before releasing my fingers. “Hang on, didn’t you just come back from there? Are you okay?”

“There was a line, so I thought it would be easier to wait,” I said, lying again.

Needing space, I headed for the corridor where Finn had taken me earlier. As soon as I was out of sight, I gave in to the panic clutching at my stomach and sagged against the wall.

Finn’s future would be as nomadic as my childhood had been.

Living like that again was my worst fear, and if I stayed with Finn long term, it would become my reality. Either traveling with him, or having him come and go from the house, away for months at a time, no stability, no anchor.

I wouldn’t go forward like this. Couldn’t.

And we couldn’t go back now because we’d done it. The thing I feared the most. We’d ruined the most important friendship in my life. Ruined it by wanting more.

When the realization hit home, I wrapped my arms around my waist, as if my insides might spill out into the air around me if I didn’t physically hold myself together.

I couldn’t lose him. I refused to. I squeezed my eyes shut, racking my brain for another option. What if we broke up now, maybe had a little time apart, then went back to being friends? I’d still have him in my life, he’d still come and go in the future, but it would hurt less when we were just friends again. Wouldn’t it?

Footsteps came from nearby and I froze. Crap. I had to pull myself together. The last thing I needed was to try to explain to one of Finn’s industry colleagues why I was falling apart in one of the museum’s dimly lit corridors. I straightened and locked all my muscles into place, hoping I could remember what normal looked like.

“Hey,” Finn said from a few steps away, his voice low and playful. “When you didn’t come back, I wondered if you might be waiting here for me.” He reached me and threaded his fingers through mine. “Good plan.”

The panic still had its grip on my insides but I managed to squeak out a quick, “Hey.”

He ducked his head, trying to get a better look into my eyes. “Wait, are you okay?”

The worry in his expression almost killed me. How could I even consider breaking his heart? Maybe what I needed was a bit of space to think this through properly. Maybe there was another solution I hadn’t thought of yet. I took a deep, fortifying breath. That was it. Breaking up with the guy I loved was too big to do without having thought about it from every angle.

“Sure,” I said. “I don’t think that garlic canapé agreed with me.”

“Would you like to leave?”

Very much. But this night was about his job and career, so I at least owed it to him to stay while he talked to people. “No, I’m fine now. Really.”

His frown said he didn’t believe me, though I wasn’t sure whether he didn’t believe that I was feeling better, or the whole canapé excuse in the first place.

We didn’t get a chance to talk alone again until the drive home, and even then, the cab of the car was unnaturally quiet. Finn sneaked a glance at me every so often, probably wondering if the canapé was still affecting me and I was going to be sick, and I was doing my best to not think too far ahead.

So I watched the scenery go past and Finn watched the road and traffic. Halfway home, he slid his hand across to find mine and lace our fingers together, and I let him. Holding his hand, being this close, everything felt right, felt good. Being this good together couldn’t be ruined by something as simple as career choices, could it?

I glanced over at his familiar profile as he drove and felt the squeeze in my chest that I always did when I looked at him. And I prayed I’d find a way through this, one that left both our hearts intact.

It had been two days since the museum opening and I still hadn’t thought of a solution. Both alternatives—a life filled with instability, or a life without Finn—filled me with panic. At night I’d been having dreams about floating in the darkness of outer space, trapped in a spacesuit that provided only stale, recycled air, not able to leave the suit or I’d die, still hoping to stumble across a way to get back to solid Earth beneath my feet. There had to be a compromise. I just hadn’t come up with one yet.

Finn clearly knew something was up, but I’d managed to divert him when I could tell he was about to ask. It was an awful way to treat him, and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t truly need the headspace to work out what to do. And now the guilt about lying by omission was pressing down on me, too.

So I’d headed out at lunchtime and ordered him a desk. A gorgeous, wooden desk with carved legs and edges. As soon as I’d seen it, I knew he’d love it, and the store had been able to deliver, which was perfect.

I’d managed to duck out of work twenty minutes early to meet the delivery man, and I was in the middle of transferring his accumulated piles of books and paper and crap from the dining table to the new desk. If it was to be an apology-present, then I wanted it set up for maximum effect when he saw it.

The front door opened and Billie and Amelia came in, laughing and chatting, then they both stopped and stared at the new desk.

“Wow,” Amelia said. “That is so cool. Does Finn know?”

I shook my head as I gathered all the random pens, pencils, and highlighters together and shoved them in a mug. “It’s a surprise.”

“Good thinking.” Billie came over and ran a hand over the smooth finish on the wood. “Now we’ll be able to actually dine at the dining table.”

I picked up a folded piece of paper and opened it to check which pile it should go on, but as I started reading, a sense of dread crept up from my toes, covering me like a cape. The letter was yet another offer to join an archeological dig, and it was clear from the wording that this wasn’t the first time Finn and this person had discussed it. The letter promised future work when Finn was ready.

Blindly, I reached for the other pieces of folded paper that had been with the first, and found more letters. More offers. Again from people Finn had clearly been talking to about future prospects.

My knees buckled and I sank down into a chair, gripping the letters like my life depending on them.

“Are you okay?” Billie sounded as if she were far away.

I won’t be in a position to travel overseas for a couple of years. If you have any openings on teams after that, I’d be more than interested.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to let my voice tremble.

I’ve spent years studying this stuff. Of course I’d like to be part of actual discoveries as they happen.

And suddenly I knew. There was no compromise. This was something he wanted to do, had already been talking to people about doing.

There were only two ways this played out if we stayed together—either I became a nervous wreck, living as if I was trapped in the spacesuit with no solid ground under my feet, or Finn gave up on his dream.

Both were intolerable. Both would drive us apart.

Amelia came closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

Startled by her tone, I looked up. I was scaring Amelia. Of course, that would be nothing compared to the effect of what I had to do next.

On unsteady legs, I stood and looked at Finn’s sisters one at a time. “I’m really sorry, but I think I have to leave.”

Chapter Seventeen

Finn

I arrived home to find the three women in my life sitting in a row on the sofa: Amelia on one end with red eyes and Harvey leaning against her legs, Billie on the other end, shooting me accusing glances, and Scarlett in the middle with a suitcase at her feet.

My heart jolted. Something had happened. As I closed the door behind me, I ran through every scenario that could have occurred since I’d seen them all at breakfast. Amelia had been at school. Billie had worked today, and it was her night to cook. I’d sent her a text earlier saying I’d be late since I’d gained access to a rare book at the state library when someone else pulled out, and she’d replied to the text, so I knew she’d received it and everything was okay.