I mean, I know, after this morning, that things couldn’t be called perfect, and yet hearing Jonah say it out loud—to her—sparks a fresh wave of surprise and hurt and anger.

“Hey, we need to get Diana home. Can you unlock the Jeep?” I call out, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. I pray they can’t hear the strain in my voice.

Jonah turns, sees me approaching, and his eyes soften. “Yeah. Of course. She must be dying.” He digs into the pocket of his jeans and hits the key fob. A chirp sounds, followed by Diana’s desperate cry of “thank you!” that makes him chuckle.

I could turn back and leave them, but Marie has kept Jonah from me long enough tonight, and so I approach until I’m melding into his chest, roping my arms around his back, and pushing away all emotions but my overwhelming love for this man.

Jonah doesn’t hesitate, enveloping me into his warmth. “Ready to go?”

I rest my chin on him, tip my head back, and purr, “Yes.” My gaze traces his lips for a moment before giving him an intense look, trying to convey everything I want to do to him tonight in that single glance.

“Got it,” he murmurs, his own eyes flaring with heat. To Marie, he says, “I’ll give you a call next week.”

“Sure. Okay.”

I catch a hint of disappointment in her voice, and it brings me a spiteful bubble of satisfaction.

I had no idea what I was going to say on the way over, but it hits me then. “Hey, Marie, I think Toby would love to go out to dinner with you sometime.” An innocent-enough suggestion.

“Oh. Really?” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A tell, I’m beginning to notice, for when she’s uncomfortable or nervous.

“Yeah. You should ask him.” I level her with a look while clinging to Jonah. “He’s single.”

Jonah is not.

She opens her mouth to speak but falters, her cheeks flushing as she steals a glance toward Jonah. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night.” She ducks her head and climbs into her truck.

Jonah sighs heavily as he leads me out of the way. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?” I feign innocence.

“Calla …”

Marie’s engine roars to a start. She backs out of her spot and coasts past us, her taillights blinking red.

Jonah throws a hand up to wave goodbye, but his jaw is tight with tension. “Do you want her dating Toby?” he asks in an overly calm voice.

“Sure. He’s a nice guy and he’s cute. So why not?”

“Specifically Toby?” Jonah fixes me with that serious, assessing stare. “Or just anyone besides me?”

“What does it matter?”

He shakes his head. “Because we’ve been over this before. She knows we’re together, Calla.”

“But she’d be happy if we weren’t.”

He curses under his breath. “Come on …”

“No! You come on! I heard her that day in the hangar. How you’re so passionate and that’s what she loves most about you. Don’t tell me she meant that in a platonic way. We both know she didn’t!” His response that day, reminding her how he feels about me, is proof that it didn’t come across that way to him, either. I’m tired of pretending otherwise.

He opens his mouth but stalls on whatever he was going to say. “She knows that’s not gonna happen, though.”

“Are you so sure of that?” A dark thought sparks in my mind, and I don’t allow myself the opportunity to weigh it before it tumbles from my mouth. “Do you have an issue with Marie dating someone else?”

“Why would I?” he asks, his tone sharpening.

“I don’t know.” That dark thought is spinning into a convoluted weave with this growing tension between us, and a voice inside screams that it’s ludicrous to say it out loud. Yet I can’t keep it to myself. “Maybe you want her there as a backup option in case this doesn’t work out.”

He laughs but there’s no humor in the sound. “Jesus, Calla. How many drinks did you have?”

“I’m not drunk!” I deny, feeling my indignation flare. Not that drunk.

“Are we really going there tonight?”

“Never mind!”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It’s too late. What the hell do you mean by that?”

Fine. I push on. “She’s perfect for you! She’s beautiful and smart and nice. She spends her days saving animals. She belongs in Alaska. She’s ready to settle down and have babies like now, I’m sure. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t give her what she wanted.”

Jonah’s mouth is open but he’s struggling with an answer.

Finally, he booms, “Because she’s not you!”

“Well, things ‘aren’t great’ between us, right? Didn’t you just finish telling her that? Why would you tell her something like that?” Tears flow down my cheeks without warning. It feels like a betrayal, to hear him say that to anyone, but especially to Marie, who I know would find some level of delight in that admission. It’s what she wants to hear.

It’s what I’d want to hear if I were in her shoes.

It would give my wounded heart hope.

“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? If you’re miserable here, then, no, things aren’t great.”

“I’m not miserable. I just … you’re never around!”

He throws his hands in the air. “You’re the one who told me I should take this job, remember?”

“Because you wanted it! I didn’t want you to want it!” I’m amazed we haven’t corralled a crowd, the way we’re yelling at each other. That seems to be our thing—fighting in parking lots. Thankfully, no one seems to be around to witness this one.

“You’re right, I did want it. I wasn’t gonna take it because I knew it would mean long hours, but then you told me to do what would make me happy, that you wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t. So, I took it. And what do you want me to say, except that I love it? I’m doin’ something important, and I’m good at it.”

“And I’m glad that you’re doing something you love. I really am, Jonah. But where does that leave me?”

He paces in a tight circle, as if to collect his thoughts before coming to a stop in front of me again, his arms folded. “I don’t know, because you haven’t even given Alaska a chance yet.”

My jaw drops. “How can you say that! Look at me, Jonah! I’m riding around on an ATV, and talking to stupid goats and rescuing dogs from bear traps and going to chili cook-offs, and trying to make our house feel like a real home instead of some shack in the woods. I’m growing enough vegetables in our backyard for a family of fifty to survive the entire winter. I’ve learned how to cook—”

“You’re constantly looking for reasons why Alaska is horrible, you keep talking about Toronto like that’s still your home and this is only temporary, you’re so focused on not fitting in here that you just tried to sell me on dating another woman,” he fires back, his tone full of anger and frustration. “You haven’t made a single decision about what you might want to do with your life, except to make it clear you don’t want a family yet, which is fine with me.” He throws his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m not pressuring you about that. But I thought you were happy! I thought you were making it work! And then this morning, all of a sudden, you’re telling me you hate it here, and now I’m beginning to wonder if you ever planned on even liking it, or if you came here already counting on leaving!”