I board my new train—the Q train from Brooklyn to Manhattan—and settle in for my hour-and-a-half commute. It’s a fairly long commute every day, true, but it’s a small price to pay to get to live in the greatest city in the world and work at my dream job. And, on my writer’s salary, living in Manhattan is simply out of the question. Plus, my long commute every day gives me time to write on my laptop or read a book or listen to music, all of which I love to do.

This morning, especially, I don’t mind the train ride. Despite the rough start to the Grammys telecast last night—fuck you, German supermodel—I couldn’t help but feel nothing but euphoria once the show got underway and Lucas started racking up win after win. Among his other awards, Lucas took top honors for song of the year, record of the year, and album of the year. And, God, he looked so happy accepting all of them!

So, in celebration of Lucas’s well-deserved night of triumph, I’ve decided to sit back during this entire train ride and listen to From A…to Me all the way through, again and again, and savor every single glorious sound. Hell, I’m even going to listen to “Abandoned,” though I’ve previously sworn never to purposefully hear that excruciating song ever again.

I feel high today, honestly. So happy for Lucas, I can barely function. For some reason, watching him win all those awards gave me more than a thrill. It gave me peace. Above anything else I might feel about Lucas, I truly want him to be happy. Period.

And, as I saw last night, he is.

But, of course, I also want myself to be happy, too. And that’s why I’ve decided to let go of my dream of ever seeing Lucas again. I realized last night, maintaining hope is holding me back from finding true love with someone else. And, crazy as it sounds, I suddenly feel like my heart is genuinely ready to find true love. Healthy, true love. Not fun with a fuck buddy. Not a fling or illicit tryst. Not some bad boy who’s going to throw me away. Not a movie star who swoops into town out of nowhere or sends a private plane for me to meet him in Jamaica. I want love with a genuinely kind person who adores me for who I am and treats me well, no tropical destinations required. And, by God, that’s what I’m going to find for myself. And, sadly, that means I need to move on from fantasizing about one day with Lucas Ford.

Do I wish things might have worked out differently for Lucas and me, like in a fairytale? Yes, I do. Of course. But after what he said to me in his first of many acceptance speeches last night, I finally felt like I had the closure I’ve needed for so long in order to move on. Bottom line—when Lucas spoke to me through my TV last night, he set me free. And I’m grateful for it.

I nestle into my seat on the train and press play on the first song on Lucas’s album, letting his guitar playing and beautiful, soulful voice flood me. And as Lucas serenades me, I close my eyes and think about Lucas’s first acceptance speech last night. The one during which he looked right into the camera, like he was talking directly to me, and said, “I’d especially like to thank the woman who inspired every song on this album. Abby, I couldn’t have written these songs without you and our time together in Penthouse A. Without the piece of your heart you so generously gave me. And for that, I’ll always love you, Abby. Thank you so much for being my muse. And for so much more than that. For telling me the truth when I needed to hear it most. Thank you for everything.”

Yeah, I pretty much died.

And, I admit it, a large piece of me felt wickedly happy to think his supermodel girlfriend was sitting in the front row, listening to him say those unbelievable words to some mystery chick named Abby who did God knows what with him in Penthouse A. But, of course, on the downside, I also knew by the way Lucas had phrased his remarks, he was telling me he loved me as his muse and nothing more. The artist inside him loves me and always will. But the man? Not so much.

And, for some reason, in that moment, that was enough for me. Slightly sad, yes. Not ideal, true… But enough. Hey, I’ve got to figure there are worse things in the world than being the woman Lucas Ford will “always love” for inspiring one of the greatest and most decorated albums in the history of music.

Of course, I was glued to the entire broadcast for the rest of the night, hoping Lucas might mention me again. Or maybe declare his undying love to me in words even bolder than those he’d used in his first speech. But Lucas never spoke to me again. Instead, he used every other speech of the night to effusively thank his “awesome” fans and tell them how “grateful” he is for their “never-ending love and support.”

And, strangely, by the end of the show, I felt so at peace. Ready to move on and find a man willing to commit to me today—and not just some possible-but-not-guaranteed one day. I called my on-again-off-again movie star boyfriend and told him it had been a super fun ride and he’d been truly lovely to me and always ridiculously generous, but that I was ready to move on to something healthy. To start looking for a serious commitment from someone roughly my own age. He handled the break up remarkably well.

And, now, as I sit on my train, headed into work, I feel light as a feather. Inexplicably free of every demon that’s ever haunted me my whole life—not to mention hopeful and excited about my future. I can’t wait to see whatever or whoever awaits me in this big, beautiful world. And I truly believe I have Lucas Ford to thank for that.

About five minutes from my stop, I indulge myself and press play on “Abby” for a third time this train ride. This will be the last time I listen to this song, I decide. Because listening to it over and over again and dreaming about what might have been one day for Lucas and me simply isn’t healthy for my soul. And so, with a wistful sigh, I push my earbuds firmly into my ears, close my eyes, and lose myself in Lucas singing “Abby” to me for the very last time.

The song ends just as my train pulls to my stop.

I wipe my eyes and cheeks. “I forgive you, Lucas,” I whisper, my words swallowed by the commotion in the train and the hustle and bustle of commuters around me. “Be happy.”

I stand, put my phone in my pocket, bundle up in my scarf, gloves, and thick wool coat, wipe my eyes and cheeks again, and start walking the four blocks to my office building.

As I enter the lobby of my building, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull off my gloves and grab my phone. It’s a text from my boss that makes my heart stop.

Come to my office the minute you get in! You hit the motherlode, Abby! LUCAS FORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!