The past few days with Evan had been pure heaven for me. I couldn’t believe I was with someone that completed me so, well, completely. And someone so beautiful, to boot! I looked at him and it was like the sun was rising in my world.

I was sharing my bed with Evan, and saw my phone light up next to me. We were just about to go to sleep, and I don’t know what possessed me to reach over and check it one last time, but here I was—doing just that.

I wished I hadn’t.

It was from Kyle. “Hey. Can we talk?”

Like, no motherfucker, we cannot!

I heard Evan breathing softly next to me. He was asleep. Then I looked back at the phone and saw the dots again.

“It’s important.”

I sighed. I knew this would be a bad idea, and I felt like all my organs inside me had seized up. I remembered how he had made me feel when we were at our worst, and in order to get over him, I’d held onto that. But, there was good in him. He wasn’t going to try to murder me or anything. But what if this was about the business?

Suddenly all my insides seized up again. That had to be it.

I texted back, “I heard you’re in town.”

I looked over at Evan next to me, all snuggled up in my bed. He deserved to get me with minimal baggage. And if what Kyle was saying actually was important, if it was about the business, I had to talk to him.

The dots appeared again, “Yes. Want to meet at our old place?”

Half an hour later, I was driving to a small dessert shop on the edge of town. Me and Kyle used to go here when we were back in Aspen for the holidays all the time. And for some reason, this was the place that Kyle chose to have his talks.

I pulled up in the BMW, fully annoyed that it was frigid out here. What in the hell did he want to tell me in person that couldn’t be over the phone? I quelled my nervousness. This must have been about the business. I hoped it was just some regular plea to get back together, and not be about tampering with my money.

Getting out of the car, I went inside and took a seat. It was eleven-forty at night, according to my Rolex, and he was late as usual.

Kyle was always late.

Ten minutes of waiting and playing on my phone later, I saw a car pull up. It was Steven’s car that he must’ve been borrowing. I took a deep breath and steeled myself, preparing for any kind of toll this would take on me. I felt the tenseness shudder and move into my arms.

Then I saw his familiar face get out of the car, tuck his head down into his scarf like a turtle, and hurry inside.

I was pleasantly surprised that he no longer had the same effect on me he used to. Actually, I was a little surprised at myself for ever dating him. He still looked good—don’t get me wrong, but there wasn’t that magical magnetism that drew me to him; that had long atrophied.

He came up to me and when his eyes fell on me, I could tell there was some kind of reaction within them, even though he tried to remain emotionless. That was his whole thing anyway—the “emotionless businessman,” “cold hard cash,” he always said melodramatically.

Just thinking of it now made my stomach curl up in disgust.

“…Hey.” He said, sitting down at the table across from me.

I cut straight to the chase. “Kyle, why did you ask me out here this late?”

He sighed, annoyed that I didn’t have time for his charm, and his eyes went to the left.

“I had to see you, for one, to catch up. I hear you’re dating someone now.”

“That’s right.” I confirmed, trying hard to keep my face expressionless, but I felt the corners of my mouth turn up thinking of Evan.

“Good.” He said curtly, “I am too.”

“That’s great, now what’s this about?” I asked again. I swear to fucking God, if he dragged me out here in the middle of the night, out of my warm bed with Evan to have a pissing contest…

“The business is going under.” He said soberly, hitting me with that glance that I knew things were serious.

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

“You heard me.” He said, not meeting my eyes.

“What—how?” I asked, flabbergasted. We had worked together on this project for years, poured thousands upon thousands into market research; our business was in a sustainable niche.

“The market is volatile. You know with elections that the markets have taken a hit.” He said.

“So what are you telling me?’ I asked, watching my source of money crumble before me.

“It means we have to get out now. If we cut our losses, we each get to walk away with this much.” He said, writing a number on a napkin and passed it over to me.

I studied it before responding. “That’s all?” I asked.

It was enough to keep me living comfortably for a few years, but it wasn’t enough to sustain me for the rest of my life.

“That’s it.” He said. “Do you want out?”

I thought about it for a moment. I knew that was the right thing to do, rather than reinvest. But this meant I had to change my lifestyle and live more frugally. Did that mean that Evan would lose interest in me? Would he leave me?

I sighed and said, “I need to talk to my lawyer. But this seems like it’s the right thing to do.”

“Good. Glad we could get this taken care of,” He said. Then when he got up, he tossed back, “I hope you have a nice time trying to make money with your art.”

I knew that was just a low blow to try to hurt me, so I didn’t respond. I watched him get into his car and drive away.

Fear and worry seeped into me. My money was all going away; how was I going to sustain myself for a few years? Sure I was neck-deep in art school right now, and I had to finish that up, but then what? Where would I make my money?

I went out to the BMW, turned on the engine and let the heat blow in my face when I tried to think of what to do next. All I knew how to do was create business, and even I knew that a significant part of it was luck. I was overcome with all this fear, and felt my mind spiraling.

I needed something. I needed someone.

Quickly, I dialed up Evan. I wasn’t used to leaning on anyone like this, but I knew I could count on him.

He answered in a sleepy-sounding voice. “Hello?”

“Evan…” I started, then explained the situation to him. Everything about Kyle, the news about the business, and my growing worry about my income. He listened patiently.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.” He said.

“No, you don’t understand. I won’t be okay. I won’t have any money rolling in anymore, and you’ll leave me.” I said.

“Do you really think I only want you because of your money?” He asked.

The question hung in the air silently.

“You say that, but I know you’re not going to like dating a poor starving artist.” I said, rejecting his coddling.

“Is that starving artist happy?” He asked.

Again, I let it hang in the air. I wasn’t used to hearing someone argue with me in this way. Fighting for us.

I pictured myself making a modest living off of art. Finding a way to make it work, somehow. With Evan.

“As long as I’m with you.” I said with more determination than I’d ever felt. “As long as I’m with you.”

“Good.” He said, then sniffled.

“Aw baby, what’s wrong?” I asked. Now it was my turn to have him lean on me.

Then with a growing realization, it dawned on me that he wasn’t talking in a sleeping voice – he was talking to me in his crying voice.

“It’s nothing—really, I’ll take care of it.”

“Please. Let me help you.” I said. I wanted to support him. I needed to support him. I felt like he’d just supported me; the least I could do was return the favor.

“Okay, okay.” He relented, “I got the grade back from that exam I took.” He said.

I bit my lip, hard.

“I failed. I’m going to lose my scholarship.”