Take Me Back
“You’re leaving.”
I’d just walked into the bedroom I shared with Seb, my lover of three years. He was packing a suitcase, his handsome face grim.
“We’ve been over this, Gus,” he replied tiredly while pulling the zipper closed with a finality that scared me. “I can’t believe we’re still talking about it.” The frustration in his voice—along with the guilt, I was sure—was achingly familiar, and it hurt.
I stepped closer to him and grabbed his arm. “What the f**k’s in New York that you can’t find here in Atlanta?”
Seb shook me off. “More money, a chance to become VP in less than a year. It’s the kind of opportunity I’ve always wanted. You know this.” I did, but I’d hoped to never see the day Seb would leave me behind because a job—money—was more important than what we’d built
