“Will you think about what you really want?”
I stay silent.
“Please, Em?”
“Yes, okay. I will. I promise.” The line falls silent for a moment, and I want to change the subject. “What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask.
“Shopping.”
“Shopping—you? What are you shopping for?”
“Well, where do you get the tents with bathrooms in them?”
I smile. “Bumfuck nowhere.”
He chuckles, and it’s a beautiful sound; it does things to my insides. It’s been a long time since I heard him laugh.
“Em . . . I’m not going to speak to you again until I pick you up from the airport on Sunday night. I want you to really think about your future and who you want in it. Either you come back to me with open arms, and we give this a red-hot go, or you end it.”
My heart drops.
“It has to be this way. If I can’t have
