Chapter 19: Not Without Telling Me

Declan's POV

I went out for coffee at seven, because I wanted her to wake up to something warm.

When I came back up in the elevator, I was smiling at my own reflection.

The door of the bedroom stood open.

Stevie was standing at the end of the bed in my shirt, with her back to me.

A bag lay open on the quilt.

She was putting things in it.

The green dress, folded.

Her shoes.

A cord, with nothing on it, lying on top.

I stopped in the doorway with two paper cups in my hands.

For six years I had pictured this exact room.

Not this one, but the shape of it.

A woman with her back to me, packing, while I stood in a door and let it happen.

The first time, I had been in a hospital bed.

This time I was standing up.

"You're going," I said.

She turned.

"What?"

"You're going. I knew it."

The words came out thin and strange.

"It's all right," I said. "You owe me nothing, and I'll drive you wherever you want. I only..."

I put the coffees down on the dresser, carefully, because my hands were not steady.

"I only want to say it plainly this time," I said. "Don't go. Please, Steph."

"Declan."

"I'll sell the apartment. I'll live in the bait shop. I'll make no demands, if you'll only not go without telling me."

She stared at me.

Her mouth was open.

"Declan," she said slowly. "I'm packing for the harbor."

"I..."

"The bakery opens at four tomorrow morning."

She waved a hand at the bag.

"That's my dirty laundry and a dress Dot will want to see. We're driving home today. You said you'd take me."

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