I’ve been craning my neck for fifteen minutes, my heart racing and my feet tapping on the rug. I’m in the seating area the apartment lobby, but I’ve been pacing around more than I’ve been sitting.

When Seth’s car finally pulls up outside, I heave a sigh of relief. I’m so glad Seth got here before Zeke.

I’ve been trying to come up with a script to say if Zeke were to see me sitting out here with my luggage, but to no avail. There’s too much shit clogging up the veins in my brain right now. I’m glad I don’t have to face Zeke at all.

I get up and pull my luggage behind me—the same one that Zeke brought up into the apartment on my move-in day, the one that I dropped down the stairs.

The car door opens and a tall figure steps out as I approach the exit. He’s wearing a navy-blue business suit that looks like it has just come out of the store, the color intense and the fabric wrinkle-free.

He seems calm and in control on the surface, but I can tell from the way he climbs the stairs two steps at a time that there’s turmoil underneath. Those long legs usually move in a more measured way, at a more unhurried pace.

The glass doors automatically open, and those icy blue eyes are immediately on me, stern and steely.

“Let me help you with that,” he says, taking the luggage handle without greeting me or asking for permission.

Normally, I’d protest this lack of decorum, but I don’t have the energy tonight. Besides, he’s already nice enough to drive all the way into the city from his mansion two hours away. And this is not the first time he has saved me.

As I follow Seth’s broad back outside, I wish—not for the first time—that I could fall in love with someone like him instead. Single-minded. Uncomplicated.

But despite how close Seth and I are, it has never been like that between the two of us.

Sure, objectively, he’s an attractive man. But he has always felt more like a protective older brother to me. I mean, I think he looks great in his suit, but I’m not interested in seeing what he looks like when it comes off.

A part of me laments that fact, but another part of me is glad that I have at least one stable relationship in my life.

I get inside the car while Seth loads my luggage into the trunk of his black SUV.

Immediately, it feels like everything has changed. This is a vehicle from another life, and Seth is a person from another life—a life that has nothing to do with Zeke.

I feel like I’m being transported back to a different time—a time before I ever left Seth’s home, before I met Zeke again, and before we staged our crazy fake wedding.

It feels strange.

My life, right after I escaped Walter’s clutches, wasn’t exactly a fairy tale. That said, I was safe and relatively free in Seth’s mansion, so it wasn’t horrible either.

But basically, I just felt like I was putting my whole life on hold.

And now I’m doing the same thing. I’m running away from life again.

It’s embarrassing that I can’t get up on my own two feet, but come to think of it, I’m not doing anything that millions of other millennials aren’t doing. The only difference is they still have parents with basements for them to move back into, while I have Seth.

Seth gets into the driver’s seat, pulls the door closed, and starts driving away without a word.

Funny. When I called Seth after lunch today and left that voicemail, all I wanted was to tell him that I was married, just so there would be enough time to separate that particular piece of news from the pregnancy news that I thought was going to follow soon.

He’s not one to start conversations under normal circumstances. Right now, he either doesn’t know what to say, or he correctly senses that I’ll start talking when I feel like it.

I watch in the side-view mirror as Zeke’s apartment building shrinks smaller and smaller. I lean my shoulder against the car door.

My heart pangs with ache as I realize I’m separating myself completely from Zeke—maybe not legally yet, but physically and emotionally.

How can he already feel so far away, when only this morning we were cuddling in bed together?

Could this really be the end, after ten years of this on-and-off, will-they-won’t-they situation?

It has to be, right?

I mean, there are, what, ten seasons of Friends? We’ve wasted as much time as Ross and Rachel, and yet we still can’t find a way to be together.

And this is real life, so there are no writers plotting our eventual romantic ending, or a nation-wide audience rooting for us.

This is the end of Ali and Zeke.

Endings always suck, don’t they?

And I’m tired of gloomy things. It’s dark enough outside without me throwing some pathetic pity party for myself. Someone with my history should be more appreciative of the little things.

Maybe it’s better to think about beginnings instead.

As I watch bright buildings blur into shadowy trees outside the car window, I think back to a happier time.

A simpler time.

When I had my parents and we were living in a big house.

When I was younger and the future was full of exciting possibilities.

When Zeke was just a cute guy who’d been stealing glances at me, flashing me his boyish smile whenever people weren’t looking.

I remember the first time we exchanged words. I was sixteen and it started with two simple words: a greeting and my name. He said the exact same thing that he’d say on the night he took my virginity.

“Hey, Ali,” Zeke says as he holds the car door open for me.

“Hi,” I respond, as soon as I recover from the surprise. I continue to walk down the set of stairs leading from the front door of the house to the driveway.

It’s early in the morning, and I’m headed downtown, where I’m going to meet a friend and shop for summer clothes.

I have a credit card from my dad in my Gucci purse, a black sedan waiting for me in the driveway, and apparently, a cute bodyguard for the day.

Zeke has been working for my family for a year now. We’ve exchanged furtive glances and secret smiles, but we haven’t even spoken with each other.

I’ve been spending more and more time on the balcony, watching the security team do whatever they do, while pretending to do my homework or read a book.

In reality, when I’m up there, I’m either staring at Zeke or daydreaming about Zeke. Sometimes he catches me looking, but I can tell it’s only because he’s trying to peek at me, too.

“My name’s Zeke Harris, and I’ll be accompanying you today.” He speaks formally and according to the usual script, but there’s something irreverent about his tone, like he’s laughing at himself inwardly.

“I know who you are,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

I’ve imagined this scenario many times. In my head, I talk to him in this confident, self-assured way, the way I see leading ladies act in the movies.

I’m saying all the right words, but they don’t sound as cool as they did when they were only in my imagination.

I need to chill. I can’t seem too eager.

“You do?” Zeke asks with a wide grin on his face, although his eyes tell me he’s not surprised.

He has perfect rows of white teeth, unruly hair, and a certain something I can’t quite put a finger to. Just being near him makes my skin buzz from the excitement.

“Yeah, I know you’re one of the guards. I’ve seen you around. Sorry, what was your name again? Zack?” I ask, feigning unfamiliarity.

“Zeke,” he says. Again, an amused glint dances in his dark eyes. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Zeke,” I repeat. My heart jumps into overdrive as his name forms on my tongue and slides out from between my lips. I’ve never actually uttered his name before, even though I’ve repeated it in my head more times than I can count.

“Please,” Zeke says as his big hand gestures toward the back seat of the car. The muscles in his arms ripple as he moves. I can see them outlined underneath the black T-shirt that all the guards wear.

“Oh, right.” I put one foot inside the car, then look up at him and say, “Uh, thank you.” Then I plant my butt on the leather seat, cursing at myself for being so awkward.

To my surprise, Zeke doesn’t shut the back door and take the front seat beside the driver. Instead, he gets in after me and then pulls the door closed.

“You’re welcome,” he says with a mischievous smile.

My heart pounds in my chest as our arms touch. He feels warm and solid.

I’ve never been this close to a guy before—not one that I like, anyway. All the boys at the private school I go to seem so pampered and immature. But Zeke is different.

He’s nineteen, which makes him an adult. And there’s something dangerous about him. He’s strong and masculine. Add to that the fact that he’s here to protect me, and he becomes a heady mixture I can’t resist.

But it’s not just about his age. There are other young guys in the security team, but something’s different about Zeke. I feel some kind of innate pull toward him, like I can always sense him before I actually see him.

“So, what’s the plan today?” Zeke asks as he casually leans back in the seat. He clasps his hands behind his head, so that if I were to sit back right now, my head would be touching his elbow.

This feels like an intrusion of my private space. Even though staff members ride with me in the family cars all the time, they don’t usually sit beside me and get this close to me.

To be honest, I’d mind it, if it were anybody else. But since this is Zeke and I’ve been hoping for exactly this scenario to happen, I’m not complaining.

The driver briefly glances at us through the rear-view mirror. He says nothing, but he must notice that something’s off. He might tell my dad, who might react with anger, but I’m not going to worry about that. Not when Zeke is right here by my side, just like he is, in my fantasies.

As the car glides down the driveway and onto the public roads, I tell Zeke I’m going shopping, embarrassed about wasting my day doing such a spoiled-rich-girl thing.

“So where’s Eric?” I ask, mentioning another guard’s name. “He’s usually the one who goes downtown with me.”

“He’s taking a day off. He has to take his baby to the doctor,” he says,

“Oh no, is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s just due for some shots.”

“That’s good,” I say, partly relieved that Eric’s family is doing fine, and partly disappointed that Zeke probably won’t be the one coming with me on my next shopping trip.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Zeke says, a lopsided smile on his face.

“Of course I am,” I say quickly, worried he’d think I’m some heartless witch who likes to hear about babies suffering.

“Okay.”

The way he looks at me makes me blush. It’s like he can see through my skull and read my thoughts. Like he knows how I feel about him.

“I’m glad Eric’s off today,” Zeke says.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time.”

My cheeks heat up and my heart skips a beat. I’m not prepared for this. Even though imaginary Zeke has said similar things in my fantasies, I’m so not prepared for this to happen in real life.

So instead of flirting back like I know I should, I make a comment about how sunny and warm it’s getting outside, now that summer’s coming.

I smile to myself at the memory.

Things used to be so simple back then, even though they seemed complicated at the time.

We grew up in completely different environments, we moved in different social circles that didn’t intersect at all, and people around us wouldn’t have been happy about us getting together. My dad would’ve been furious, and Zeke could’ve lost his job.

Still, things were so much simpler, compared to how they are now. I mean, at least back then I wasn’t fake-married to him, with a baby possibly on the way.

It’s a sweet memory, and it always will be. But maybe it’s not meant to be revived, now that I’m a grown woman. Maybe Zeke should’ve stayed in my past all along.