7
Lena’s POV
I waited until after dinner. I needed him calm. I needed to say it without crying.
He was in the living room, sitting on the couch, sipping his whiskey slowly like he always did, barefooted, quiet, eyes on the fire and not me.
My heart was pounding before I even stepped in.
“Can we talk?” I asked.
He looked over, his face unreadable. “Yeah.”
I sat on the arm of the chair across from him and curled my legs under me. I didn’t look directly t him at first. Legs curled under me. I didn’t look directly at him at first.
“I’ve been thinking.”
He raised his brows like he already knew what was coming.
“This thing between us,” I started. “It’s not… sustainable.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I’m nineteen,” I went on, “and you’re—”
“Thirty-eight,” he said flatly.
“Exactly. And y
