Once everything had been brought upstairs, Sam began helping Julianne hang up pictures, making the suite look a little more like home.

Weston ambled about until he finally sat on the couch. “Did you guys rent this?” he said, spreading out his arms and resting them on top of the cushions.

“No, it’s furnished,” Julianne said.

Weston tried not to be impressed. “I’m pretty sure my apartment in Dallas will look nothing like this.”

Sam chuckled. “I’m going to guess your parents will make sure you’re living safe and well.”

“I’m not going to Duke anymore, remember?” Weston smirked.

“So I’ve heard. Peter also mentioned he was proud of you for making a choice and standing by it. He’s also bragged on some of your charcoals, specifically the one of my daughter.”

I held my breath. Weston looked like Sam had just punched him.

“Yeah…that’s not up anymore.”

At that moment, I felt like the one who’d been punched. I found the closest seat and sat down.

Sam looked around. “We, um…we forgot a few things.”

“Like what?” Weston said. “I’ll go grab it.”

“Trash bags, for one,” Julianne said. “Sea salt and black pepper granules for the grinders.”

Weston looked at me. “Is she serious right now?”

I shrugged.

Sam tugged on his wife. “Let’s go, honey. We can beat the rush of other parents who forgot things.”

They scurried out the door, leaving Weston and me feeling too much in a big suite boiling over with tension.

I covered my face. “You don’t have to stay. You can leave.”

“Thanks,” he said, standing.

“You don’t have to,” I said, panicking. “I just meant that if you didn’t want to stay here…I wanted to say good-bye, but I didn’t expect you to help us move. I appreciate it.”

“We’ve already said good-bye. You’ve been saying it for months.”

I sank into the back cushion of the chair. “That’s not true.”

“You’re still wearing it.”

I touched the necklace, feeling my cheeks catch fire. “Should I take it off? I don’t really know how this works.”

“Do what you want,” he snapped.

I crossed my hands over my stomach. It had been so long since I needed to protect myself against anyone trying to hurt me that I was out of practice.

Weston’s hands went up and then fell to his thighs. He was wearing his typical basketball shorts, red, with a navy T-shirt and a backward red ball cap, his shaggy brown hair peeking out. “I don’t want to fight. I’m just going to…” He pointed to the door, and then he scooped his keys and walked toward it.

“You can’t keep leaving,” I said, standing.

He turned around, his jaw set. “What?”

“You can’t keep breaking my heart and then blaming me for it.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed to his chest. “I broke your heart?”

“This is the last time I’ll let you come here. If you quit on me, I quit, too.” A hot tear burned down my cheek, but I wiped it away.

Weston shook his head with a disgusted look on his face. “I don’t even know why I came.” He reached for the knob.

“Because you love me!” I said, my voice breaking. “And you know I love you! So, why? I still don’t know what I did wrong!”

Weston stared at me like I was on fire.

I took a step. “Because I didn’t put your ring on my finger? Because I don’t want to move in with you? You’re wrong,” I said, pointing. “I don’t know the first thing about love, but you’re wrong. You’re the one hurting me…and you…for no reason. We were happy. We were together, and now, we’re not. I didn’t do that,” I said, breathing out a faltering breath. “You left me.”

Weston’s eyes fell to the floor. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and he gripped the knob. “Enjoy Stillwater.” He paused. “I mean that.”

As he walked out the door, I grabbed the closest thing to me—a frame—and out of pure frustration, I chucked it at the door. It shattered, and I covered my mouth. Julianne had bought that because it looked a lot like our family frame, but it said Happy. Now, happy was lying in pieces all over the floor.

He’d left me.

I walked over to the window. Sam and Julianne stopped Weston in the parking lot. Weston’s fingers were hooked on his hips, and he was shifting his weight from one leg to the other as if he couldn’t stand still.

Sam put his hand on his shoulder, and Julianne hurried toward the building. Weston turned his ball cap around, pulled it low over his brow, and then hung his head. Sam pulled him closer, and Weston hugged him tight.

The thought of my new frame lying in fragments on the floor made me rush over to the entryway, but I wasn’t sure where the broom was, and Julianne was already knocking anyway.

I slowly opened the door, feeling ashamed the moment her eyes fell on the broken remains at her feet.

“Oh, Erin,” Julianne said, joining me on the floor. She helped with the large pieces and then walked to the hallway closet.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I might have thrown a small tantrum.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Not much. I did most of the talking. He did the walking out. He’s gotten pretty good at that.”

Julianne frowned. “He’s so lost and confused. I’m sorry he’s taking it out on you.”

Sam knocked on the door, still opened a bit from when Julianne had come in. “You’ve got it?” he said.

He retrieved the dustpan from the closet, and then he held it in place so that Julianne could sweep up the last bit of shards.

Minutes later, the floor was clean, and the remnants of my anger had been thrown away in one of my new trash bags. It was like happy had never happened.

“I know it’s hard to believe now,” Sam said, “but he’s hurting—mostly himself. He’s trying not to care if you care anymore. Boys aren’t as tough as our counterparts. We flail around like toddlers learning to walk, taking out everything around us while trying to get to where we’re going. Anything that’s halfway scary makes us wail like banshees.”