One thing I know, whenever I spend time in your space, what I want becomes less and less you.

Well, that pretty much said it all.

And it hurt like hell.

But I wasn’t going to cry.

The last time I cried was a couple of months ago. After I’d been in the midst of a firefight in the parking lot of a mall during a kidnapping (mine). But the waterworks only came because I thought a guy I knew and liked had been shot in said firefight.

So those were kind of stressy tears, and I didn’t think they counted.

They weren’t heartbreak tears.

The last time I’d cried before that?

When I was fifteen and in a frothy, tea-length gown, waiting on Mom’s couch for Dad to show to take me to some father-daughter dance he had going on with whatever club that he belonged to.

Lions Club?

The Masons?

Whatever.

He didn’t show.

I sat on that couch all dolled up for a date with my dad, while Mom looked on, appearing openly like she’d gladly murder somebody. And I sat there until ten thirty before Mom got me out of that gown, unearthed the ice cream, and I sat in her bed, snot-nosed and bawling, but still shoving that frozen goodness in my mouth.

That was the last and only time I cried over a man.

So now…

Fuck it.

I wasn’t going to cry because Boone showed strong signs that he’d be a delicious Dom.

I wasn’t going to cry because, even if it was vaguely fucked up, finding that shit out about Angelica was something he spent his time and resources doing what he said he was doing, looking out for me.

I also wasn’t going to cry because Lottie had Mo, and her serenity and contentment at finding a good man to love who loved her floated like pearlescent clouds around her everywhere she went.

And Evie had Mag, and the adoration they shared for each other sparkled like glitter anytime one was near the other.

And I had no one.

And I wanted someone, someone special, someone who would look out for me, someone who would partner with me to navigate life, someone who was mine.

No, I wasn’t going to cry for any of these reasons.

I wasn’t going to cry at all.

So I didn’t cry.

I gathered the pictures up, pivoted, and walked out my back door.