I had no idea where I was going when I got in my truck. I just knew that I had to get away, couldn’t bear to be in my house, so close to Grey but knowing that I couldn’t have him in my arms. My house was full of the gifts he’d brought me, and even some of his clothes he’d left strewn on various surfaces in the house.

Grey had become a seamless part of my life, and now that the seam had broken, I could see and feel him everywhere.

I drove aimlessly around the short roads of Fox Hollow until I saw a shining 24-hour beacon in the night: Fox’s Diner. I pulled my car into the gravel parking lot, not even sure if I was going to go inside or just sit there in silence, probably crying in my truck.

I’d never been to the diner at such a late hour, and in the daytime it was always packed to the brim and you had to fight to even find a parking spot. But now there were only four other cars in the lot, and I was sure at least two of them had to belong to the workers inside.

I cut off the engine and for a good while I just sat there, trying to keep my breathing even, trying to think about the horrible mess I’d made.

Maybe I shouldn’t have paid off all of Grey’s mom’s bills. But I couldn’t help but feel like Grey’s problem was bigger than that. That maybe it went beyond just the bills, and further into him thinking he didn’t deserve love. It was clear that he had issues asking for help, but when he told me he loved me he seemed scared, almost broken somehow.

And it absolutely crushed my heart. Because I had never felt like I did about Grey for anyone else. I felt right when I was with him, like he understood what I needed before I needed it, and everything felt effortless. And I wanted so badly for it to feel that effortless to him, to make him trust in how good it could be.

When I started to feel more frustrated than I did sad, I headed inside the diner. There was one cook working behind the griddle, leaning against the counter reading the newspaper as I walked in, and one young waitress who was playing a game on her phone. She seemed glad to have another customer and told me to sit anywhere in the place.

I took a booth and ordered just a coffee. I stared into the middle distance, my mind completely blank, until she came back with the mug.

“You doing okay, sir?” she said, her curly blonde hair bouncing, a bright spot in the otherwise lifeless restaurant.

“Oh,” I said, looking up at her, slightly startled by the human interaction. “Yeah, I’m…” I started to say, and then realize that being dishonest was too much effort. “No, actually, I had a pretty shitty night.”

“Aw,” she said, making a slight pouty face at me. “That’s a shame, darling. Is it going any better now?”

I held up the mug of coffee. “I hope this will help. But I don’t know if my… problem is gonna be resolved anytime soon.”

“You get in a fight with the missus?” she asked, leaning against my table.

“Kinda like that,” I said, meeting her eyes and taking a sip of the too-hot coffee. “Fight with my boyfriend. Or at least, my kind-of boyfriend… which I’m pretty sure after tonight he’s not.”

“Oh no,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Is that the cute guy I’ve seen you come in here with before?”

My eyes widened. “You remember us?”

“’Course I do, sweetie,” she said. “I’ve got a great memory for faces. And you two came in, like, twice a week.”

I puffed out a small laugh. “Fair point. Yeah, it’s him. And I’m pretty sure he wants nothing to do with me anymore.”

“This your first fight?” she asked.

“Um…” I said, thinking, “Kind of. Certainly the first big one.”

“Well why don’t you just make it up to him? That’s what I always do with my husband. If I blow up at him or he blows up at me, it doesn’t matter, I’ll always come home with a nice pie from the case up front. He likes lemon meringue but he’ll accept apple, too.”

I smiled up at her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two years old, but I liked the idea of her going home to her husband with a whole pie.

“I don’t think a pie could fix this one,” I said, looking down at the napkin on the table and folding it neatly in half.

“Shame,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, what about something else, then? Get him something big.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” I said, “I already got him something big, something too big. And… he’s mad that I got him too much without telling him about it first.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening as she nodded in understanding. “That’s happened with me and Davey, too. Shit, I was so excited—I saved up for two months and clipped coupons for the Super Shopper in order to get him this huge flat-screen TV he’d been talking about for months. I went out and got it, all stealthy, while he was at work one night. Put a big red bow on it and everything. But when he got home and saw it, he was upset. Asked me why I didn’t talk to him about it before, told me that it was something he was working toward.”

“Wow,” I said.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “At first I was dead angry at him. Wanted to leave him. Like, I’m just trying to do something nice and you act like that? But then he sat me down and talked to me, and told me the real reason he was upset was because he felt like he could never repay me. Made him feel like he couldn’t provide for the family. But I told him it’s not about who provides—it’s that we both get to appreciate it. I want to make him happy, and he wants to make me happy. We both win. Because we aren’t at odds, we’re a team.”

“And did he understand?” I asked.

She nodded. “He did, believe it or not. He said he had to get over some crap about gender roles or whatever, and also learn to accept that he can’t control anything. And I’ll tell you what, he’s never been mad about any gift again. Especially not the pies.”

“I’m so glad. Wow. Thank you so much for telling me that story,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, anytime. Your story might be different, though, y’know. Maybe if he doesn’t like big gifts, that’s just part of his personality that you can’t really change. What about little gifts, though?”

I thought for a moment. “He is actually really great at little gifts,” I said, “He brings me little things all the time that he makes or finds somewhere.”

“Oh! Well there you go, sweetie, little gifts. Clearly they’re special to him, right?”

“Definitely.”

She gave a little shrug. “So maybe make him a little gift. Something that doesn’t cost a lot, but shows you care. Some people feel weird about too much money, but no one can say no to a gift from the heart, right?”

“God, you are so helpful,” I said to her, puffing out a laugh. “I am so glad we talked.”

“I’m definitely not perfect, but I’ve been married 2 years, I’ve learned a thing or two about compromise.”

“I really appreciate it. I hope it works.”

“I think it will. I mean… do you love him?” she asked. She seemed so casual about it, like it was such a nonchalant thing to say, but my heart started slamming in my chest as I answered.

“Yes,” I said, “I do. So much.”

“And he loves you back?”

I paused for a moment. “He told me he did. Tonight, actually, while we were fighting.”

“Oh wow,” she said. “Then there’s definitely still hope. You gotta show him you love him. If it’s meant to be, he will come back to you.”

I took in a deep breath. “I’m gonna try,” I said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said, and as she walked away she turned and said with a wink, “I always did like your dance moves back in the day. My older sister was a huge fan.”

I didn’t know if it was possible to blush with your entire body, but if it was, I was doing that. I had no clue she recognized me at all—usually if people did, they’d tell me sooner—but I was thankful she hadn’t mentioned it until the end of our conversation.

I left a 20 dollar bill on the table even though the coffee was probably only a buck, and I headed out the front door. I got in the truck and immediately started thinking about what I could do for Grey—something that would cost very little but would show him how I actually felt.

The idea came to me shockingly fast. It required a couple moving parts that I knew I would have to get the next day when stores were open, but part of it I could put together right away. I drove home and saw that the light at Grey’s was still out—I hoped he was sleeping, and some tiny part of me even had the thought that I hoped he had drank enough water before going to sleep.

Because I didn’t care how tense my fight with Grey had been earlier, I still couldn’t help but look out for him. And I hated the idea of him waking up with a killer hangover.

I planned and plotted for the gift I was going to give to Grey. It might have seemed absolutely nutty, trying to give him another gift after he’d been so upset about the money, but this was a completely different thing.

It was something that money couldn’t buy. Something I was going to make, something no one else could make for Grey.

I would start working on it that night, finish it the next day when I got the necessary supplies, and then leave it in his mailbox the next day. If he didn’t want to talk to me even after getting it, then I would let him go.

But I had to take one last opportunity to show him how I really felt.