He sounds so sure of himself and sure of our relationship, and again I’m confused and can’t decide if I should be angry or if I should be happy about his words.

Marriage doesn’t hold the same value as it did only months ago. My parents were never married; I could barely believe it when I found out that they pretended to be to appease my mother and my grandparents. Trish and Ken were married, and that legal binding couldn’t save their sinking ship. What’s the point of being married, really? It almost never works anyway, and I’m beginning to see that it’s a ridiculous concept. It’s messed up, the way the idea is drilled into our heads that we should promise ourselves to another and depend on that person as our source of happiness.

Lucky for me, I’ve finally learned that I can’t depend on anyone else for my happiness. “I don’t think I even want to be married, ever.”

Hardin sucks in a harsh breath and his hand moves to my chin, “What? You don’t mean that.” His eyes search mine.

“Yes, I do mean that. What’s the point? It never works, and divorce isn’t cheap.” I shrug my shoulders and ignore the horrified expression covering Hardin’s face.

“What the hell are you saying? Since when are you so cynical?”

Cynical? I don’t believe that I’m cynical. I just need to be realistic and not keep holding out for a storybook ending that I will obviously never have. But it’s also not like I’m going to put up with his back-and-forth all the time.

“I don’t know, since I realized how hopelessly stupid I was. I don’t blame you for ending things with me. I was obsessed with having a life I could never have, and it had to drive you insane.”

Hardin tugs at his hair in that frustrated way he does. “Tessa, you’re talking crazy shit. You weren’t obsessed with anything. I was just an asshole.” He groans in frustration and kneels in front of me. “Fuck, now look what I’ve got you thinking! This is all backwards.”

I stand up, hating feeling guilty for saying the truth about how I feel. I’m so internally conflicted, and being in this small room with Hardin isn’t helping. Near him I can’t focus, and I can’t stick to my defenses when he’s looking at me like each of my words is a weapon against him—no matter how true that is, it still makes me feel sympathy for him when I don’t think I should.

I was always so quick to judge women who felt this way. While watching an overly dramatic relationship on-screen, I was quick to label the woman as “weak,” but it’s not that simple or that cut-and-dried.

There are so many things to take into consideration when labeling someone, and I’ll admit before I met Hardin, I did this far too often. Who am I to judge people based on their feelings? I never knew how strong those foolish emotions could be; I couldn’t comprehend the magnetic pull that could be felt. I never understood the way love overpowers common sense and passion overtakes logic, or how unnerving it is that no one else really knows how you feel—no one can judge me for being weak or stupid, no one can put me down for the way I feel.

I will never claim to be perfect, and I am struggling every second to keep myself above water, but it’s not as easy as people assume. It’s not so easy to walk away from someone when he has made his way into every cell, when he has taken over every thought, and he has been responsible for the best and worst feelings I’ve ever had. No one, not even the doubting part of me, can make me feel bad for loving passionately and hoping desperately that I could have that great love that I’ve read about in novels.

By the time I finish justifying my actions to myself, my subconscious has taken her hair down and closed her eyes, relieved that I’ve finally stopped beating myself up for the way that my emotions have been playing me.

“Tessa, I’m coming to Seattle. I won’t try and force you to live with me, but I want to be where you are. I’ll keep my distance until you’re ready for more, and I’ll play nice with everyone, even Vance.”

“That’s not the issue.” I sigh. His determination is admirable, but it’s never been consistent. He will get bored eventually and move on with his life. We are too far gone this time.

“Like I said before, I will try to keep my distance, but I’m coming to Seattle. If you won’t help me decide on an apartment, I’ll have to choose it myself, but I’ll make sure you’ll like it, too.”

He doesn’t need to know my plans. I use my thoughts to drown out his words. If I hear them, if I really listen to them, they will break down the barrier I’ve built. The surface split open only an hour ago, and I let my emotions control my body, but I can’t let that happen again.

HARDIN LEAVES THE ROOM after another ten minutes of me trying to ignore his promises, and I start packing my bag for Seattle. I’ve been going back and forth, traveling too much lately, and I look forward to the day when I finally have a place to call home. I need the security, I need the stability.

How is it that I spent my entire life planning for stability only to be out in the world swaying along with no base to call my own, no safety net, nothing at all?

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Landon is leaning against the wall, and he stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you before you leave.”

I stand in front of him and wait for him to speak. I hope he’s not changing his mind on letting me tag along to New York.

“I just wanted to check with you and see if you’ve changed your mind about coming with me to NYU. If you did, that’s okay. I just need to know so I can tell Ken about the flight arrangements.”