The drive to Emma's apartment took twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of silence. Twenty minutes of Nick's hand holding hers. Twenty minutes of watching the city slide past the window — the coffee shops, the corner stores, the fire hydrant that looked like a Dalmatian. Emma had walked these streets for nine years. She had never really seen them.
Now she saw everything.
The cracks in the sidewalk. The families in the windows. The way the late afternoon light turned everything gold.
"Emma," Nick said.
She turned to look at him. "Yes?"
"I'm not going to ask you to stay."
Emma's throat tightened. "I know."
"I'm not going to ask you to change your mind."
"I know."
"And I'm not going to say goodbye."
Emma frowned. "Then what are you going to say?"
Nick lifted her hand to his lips and kis
