Scott didn’t say anything for a while. He just watched me while I finished with my last boxes.

That’s when he walked toward me slowly, like he was afraid that one wrong movement would make me disappear or even more angry than I already was. I stood by the bed, one hand resting on the zipper of a half-packed suitcase, bracing myself for another argument, or another plea I didn’t have the energy for. 

When he reached me, he didn’t grab my arms or block my way like ...