The next morning, Verna looked over at Joe, trying to take in every nuance of him while she could, letting her gaze follow the ridges and planes of his sleeping face, then letting it trace the faint fine lines around his eyes and mouth that gave him just enough imperfection to make what could have been an alienating beauty nothing short of devastating. She wished she could touch him but didn’t want to risk waking him. It would be tough enough to get out of bed without rousing him from sleep, so she couldn’t press her luck.

Through some miracle or other divine intervention, she managed to get out of her bed and out of the room without him stirring. At least one thing had gone in her favor, and she hoped it was a sign of things to come. This morning would be difficult, and she’d need all the help she could get. After quickly showering and dressing in the guest bathroom—she still thought of it as Ethan’s bathroom even though her sweet little godson was long gone, off growing up with his parents in Geneva—she crept downstairs to wait.

The minutes passed with excruciating slowness, and with each that went by, the tension in her gut increased exponentially. She had no other choice; last night had proven as much but that didn’t make things easy. Before Joe had come over, and after they’d made love, she’d thought about everything that had transpired, and decided she should be grateful.

What he’d done had hurt; the thought of it and of the casual cruelty with which Joe had tossed away everything she’d allowed herself to believe was between them left a faint throb in her chest and had her eyes tearing. But still, as painful as it was, it was better to hurt now and spare herself in the long run. This thing with Joe, a drunken confession that had led to a no-strings sexual affair, had gotten out of hand. That his actions had the capacity to wound her so deeply showed her that she’d been burned by the fire with which she’d recklessly played. And she needed to put a stop to this immediately, before she got in so far that she wouldn’t make it out, at least not with her heart intact, assuming it even still was.

Not seeing him as much, not being able to touch him, would take some adjustment, but as much as his tenderness and affection, the easy, fun times they’d shared, might suggest otherwise, he hadn’t been hers to begin with, so she had no right to be upset that he hadn’t considered her feelings. And besides, Joe would want to move on soon enough anyway. Even absent what he’d done last night, she’d known it was only a matter of time before he’d want a better, more suitable woman to spend his time with, someone more attractive, less weird, less Verna.

As his friend—and she considered him that if nothing else—it was only right that she stop monopolizing him, let him be free to find whatever he was looking for. And so what if her heart twisted and her stomach squeezed into knots at the idea of him being with someone else? That was her problem, not his, and she wouldn’t visit her feelings upon him. If she were smart, she would have sent him home last night. But she was as dumb as she was selfish, and she hadn’t had the strength to send him away and had let herself give in to the need to be with him one last time.

Her gaze flew to the staircase where he was ambling down slowly, his legs, torso and finally his face revealed with each step. She’d perched on the couch opposite the staircase to wait for him, and when he reached the bottom, she stood. He stepped toward her but then, after looking her from head to toe and then back again, stopped, leaned against the foyer wall, and folded his arms across each other. The motion made his biceps bulge in a way that she’d salivated over for what felt like forever, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted, not now. She needed to do this before she lost her nerve.

After a few moments, Joe hadn’t said a word and didn’t seem to feel any inclination to change that, so she launched into the speech she’d been preparing in her head most of last night and all of this morning.

“Joe…” She trailed off and then cleared her throat.

“Joe, I, uh, just want to say… Well, first, good morning,” she said, flashing him what had to be a stupid smile.

He said nothing, but she could see the tightness in his arms increase as he seemed to brace himself for what she might say.

“So, this has been great. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you, and I had fun…you know…with the sex stuff…”

He looked thunderous, so she sped up.

“But I think, I mean, it’s time to end that part of our relationship.”

Still, he said nothing, but his eyes practically burned with anger and she felt her own beginning to rise in response. This wasn’t easy, and he wasn’t making it any easier standing over there glaring at her like he was hurt and mad at the same time.

“I want us to be friends still, but we need boundaries. I’ve never wanted to be a burden, hold you back or embarrass you, and while I’ll forever appreciate and think fondly of the times we shared, that has to end now.”

Somewhere during her statement, her gaze had wandered off over his shoulder, but when she refocused on his face, the anger there was enough to make her look away again. She’d seen Joe mad before, used to get a great deal of twisted amusement out of watching his temper flare, but this was something else. He wasn’t the bear she was used to poking, one who swatted at her but was ultimately harmless. No, this was Warrior Joe, and her first real glimpse at what he probably looked like in battle. But that didn’t make sense; she was doing him a favor, so why was he going nuclear?

“What?” she said, her voice sounding exasperated.

He didn’t answer her question but instead responded with one of his own.

“So that’s it, huh? I do something fucked up and idiotic, and instead of calling me on it, you’re throwing in the towel?”

“Joe, I—”

“Cut the shit, Verna. You’re just going to pretend that I didn’t do what I did last night, that you weren’t upset by it, that this epiphany that we need boundaries just so happened to occur to you separate and apart from me being an asshole?”

The mere mention of last night had the image—and the wretched feelings it induced—replaying in her brain, and she realized that while she may not have decided so consciously, that was exactly what she was planning to do.

“Why does it matter to you?” she asked, her voice much more needy and pleading than she wanted.

It seemed to soften him and he dropped his arms, tilting his hands out toward her.

“Verna, I care about you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

His words were like knives in her soul, and she had to redirect the conversation before they cut too deeply.

“Of course you do, Joe. That’s why you’ve been so nice to me, because you’re a nice person. And like I said, I appreciate it; I really do. But I wouldn’t feel right if I continued to take advantage of your kindness.”

“‘Take advantage…’ Verna, don’t be silly. You know that—”

“Look, Joe.” She cut him off, unable to listen to him any longer while keeping her emotions in check. “I think we’ve said what needs to be said.”

She walked over to him, hand extended.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked down at her proffered hand and then back up at her face, his expression far too close to anguish for her comfort.

“Please, don’t do this, Verna. I know I hurt you, but I will make it up to you. Just don’t quit on us.”

The sincerity in his eyes and in his voice had her resolve weakening, and she let herself think of what it would be like to just move forward, to pretend that nothing had happened. She wanted to, so very badly, but the memory of last night, of his blank expression, of how insignificant he’d made her feel, wouldn’t let her.

“Have a nice day,” she said, extending her hand again.

She looked away and jumped when his hand touched hers. He curved his fingers around hers, held her lightly, like he was afraid she might fall apart. And she would, later, when she was alone, but for now, she simply kept her gaze averted and stood still and silent.

“I’m not giving up, Verna,” he finally said and then he left.