With every word Finch spoke, it became clearer and clearer to Sarah that this would be their last night together. He just didn’t get it. He wanted to, but two broken parts could never make a whole. Sarah had a lot of healing to do… but so did Finch.

Wordlessly, she pulled him into a dance. Clinging to him, she pretended that they could go on like this forever. Dances often marked the beginning of something new, but in this case, it would be their goodbye.

Despite her best attempts to hold them back, the tears broke through, officially bringing an end to their one night as a couple, their one night maybe in love.

“Hey, hey… Don’t cry,” Finch murmured, concern reflecting in his blue eyes. Any other day she could get lost in those eyes, lost in the smile that so often accompanied them.

But tonight she’d seen the truth, the way things needed to be.

“Finch, I really like you so much,” she said, her voice quavering with each word. “But right now I don’t like me.”

Finch pulled her tight to his chest and continued to sway. “I like you enough for the both of us,” he insisted after kissing the part in her hair.

Sarah’s voice came out muffled against the cotton fabric of his shirt, but she hoped the meaning behind her words would be clear. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Neither of us has life figured out for ourselves.”

Finch stopped dancing and pulled her face up gently to meet his own. “We can figure it out together,” he whispered, coming in close for a kiss but then pulling back again at the last second.

She completed the kiss. To remember him by, she told herself, knowing that she wasn’t being fair to either of them.

“No,” she said around a sob. “I need time for me, and you need time for you.”

Finch laughed nervously. “That’s the oldest breakup line in the book.”

“Maybe so, but it’s the truth. Finch, I was so busy falling in love with you that I didn’t even see that I was also falling apart.”

“Stop, go back to that part where you said you’re falling in love with me, because—”

“No, don’t. It won’t make any of this easier. I wish things could have been different, but our timing’s all off.” She reluctantly let her arms fall away from Finch and come to rest at her sides. It was over.

Finch followed her as she walked back to the table to grab her purse. “I know things with Eleanor were—”

“This isn’t about her. It’s about us—me and you. Eleanor shone a light on so many things for me. I don’t want to lay dying with regret and anger. I want to fix what needs fixed now. Please give me the space to do that.”

He took a step back as if she’d hit him. His face became blank as if feeling anything in this moment would be far too much. “There really is no changing your mind, is there?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping him in one last hug. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I think I understand,” he said at last. Finch rested his chin on the top of her head as he spoke. “If our timing is off, I’ll wait. One day it will be right, and I’ll be ready.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said, pressing her face into the soft fabric of his shirt to stifle her tears. “I really hope you’re right.”

After returning Sarah to her car in the college parking lot, Finch drove himself to the Cliff Walk for a midnight stroll. The trails were all but deserted at this time of night, and somehow having the space to himself served as a comfort.

I may as well get used to being on my own.

He thought he’d already grown used to being alone, but losing Sarah cut deeper than all the former business partners and fair-weather friends combined. He just couldn’t accept that they were over. That’s why he had come here to think.

Some way, somehow, he’d find a way to get her back.

As he searched for answers, his mind kept taking him back to their brief time together—so infatuated with both the mystery and with each other. They’d met at Cliff Walk for a new perspective, and thanks to Sarah’s breeder friend, they’d found one. Carol had made it abundantly clear that she was rooting for the two of them, but what good would that do if Sarah wasn’t ready to accept his love?

She’d told him from the beginning that Lucky needed to go wherever she went, and until today, the dog had been a constant third whenever they came together. Today, though, she’d arrived without her faithful companion, and today she’d also let all her insecurities tumble out and bury their fledgling relationship.

That night, she’d said a relationship between them would keep her from fixing the things inside of her that needed to be fixed, but until today, she’d used her dog in the same way—as a furry, yellow security blanket.

She’d told him that she admired him for taking his passion and turning it into something the whole world could enjoy. She didn’t judge his failings but was completely unable to escape her own perceived mistakes.

How can I show her that she’s already perfect?

That she’s already enough all on her own?

To think she blamed herself for an accident that happened so many years ago, that she’d been punishing herself all this time. How could he save her from her past if she was unwilling to give him any part of her future?

Sarah wanted time alone to work on herself, to heal, but she also said that he needed time for himself. Finch didn’t want it, though. He only wanted her…

Wait… Is that the problem?

Does she need me to be something more, and if so, what?

A splash below drew his attention to the water. With the sky too dark to discern the shapes on the ocean, Finch pulled out his phone and activated the flashlight.

Not a pod of whales, as he’d expected, but rather a lone dinghy cutting through the gentle waves. He pictured a young couple on board that boat sharing a kiss beneath the stars. The thought made him smile—that love could still exist somewhere in the world, that love carried on even when the rest of the world grew dark.

Suddenly, thankfully, miraculously, he knew exactly what he needed to do. It would take time, but that was exactly what Sarah had asked him for.