Something in my expression must change because Wyatt’s face falls and he eyes me with a hint of confusion. Did he notice it too? Could he tell that my heart didn’t flutter and my breath didn’t catch in my throat like it should have? I’m completely frozen in place because I feel, without an ounce of uncertainty, that this isn’t a phase. This isn’t something I have to work through. This is just how I feel.

A dull ache resonates in my belly at the thought of hurting Wyatt. Unable to hold his gaze, my eyes drift over his shoulder. Maggie is watching me intently, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think that she just read my mind. She knows me, and she’s been around the two of us more times than I could ever try and count. She sees it too.

Clearing her throat, Maggie breaks eye contact and looks at Wyatt. “It’s because of me, Wy-Wy.” Wyatt’s jaw clenches at the nickname she gave him years ago. She’s using their general dislike for each other to break the tension, and even though I don’t think it’ll work, I’m thankful that she’s trying. “I’m the one that made her smile.”

“I’m sure you did, Magdalena,” Wyatt states flatly. His eyes plead with mine, begging me to explain what’s going on. Everything inside of me is screaming to make this right, to pull him into my arms and reassure him that we are okay. But I can’t, because we are not okay. He runs a finger down the side of my cheek and offers me a hesitant smile. “Is everything alright?”

I’ve waited months for him to push me for answers, and he chooses now? “I’m fine.” I pause, giving myself the opportunity to lay it all on the line, but like always, I chicken out. How do you tell your boyfriend of seven years—who is now your fiancé—that you’re not in love with him anymore? “I’m fine,” I repeat, even though he hadn’t questioned me after I said it the first time. My voice is even and controlled, and the lack of emotion should speak volumes. Wyatt’s eyes flit between mine and he opens his mouth, but the loud shrill of his radio cuts him off.

“Shit,” he hisses, rushing into the living room. Wyatt grabs his radio off the coffee table, where he must have set it when he walked in, and slips his boots on. Then he comes back into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator while we waits for the dispatcher to give details surrounding the call.

Wyatt is a third-generation volunteer firefighter, and over the past several years, I’ve learned to stay calm until I know what the emergency is. The town we live in is quite small, with only about seventy-five hundred residents. Therefore, the fire department responds to anything from a fully engulfed structure fire to minor medical emergencies.

A loud voice crackles through the radio. “Attention Rock River Fire Department and Rock River EMS. Report of a two-vehicle 10-50 on Highway 25 near the intersection of Placard Road. Report of airbag deployment with multiple occupants. Unknown injuries. No further information at this time.”

“I gotta go, baby.” Wyatt dips down so we’re eye to eye. He cups my cheek in his hand and kisses me twice before pulling back. “I don’t know what’s going on with you tonight, but when I get back, we’re gonna talk about it.”

He spins around and hauls ass through the house. “Be safe!” I yell, my words dying off when the front door slams shut.

“What the fuck was that?”

“A 10-50 is a car accident,” I answer dryly, dragging my gaze back to Maggie.

“Nope, not that,” she says, her lips pressed into a firm line. “The other thing.”

“What other thing?” I ask, pretending I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.

“Alright.” Sliding her chair back, she gets up, walks to the cupboard and grabs two wine glasses. “If that’s how you wanna play this.” I follow her movements as she strolls to the refrigerator and picks out a bottle of wine, then pulls the stopper from the top. Gripping the two glasses in one hand and the bottle clenched in the other, she falls into her seat at the table. “I’ve got all night, Katie.” There’s a smirk on her face when she fills both glasses with my favorite red wine and pushes one toward me.

“There’s only enough there for another two glasses.”

Her smile grows and she tips her goblet in my direction. “Well then, it’s a good thing I have two more bottles in my car … and a change of clothes.”

“Great.” I groan and tip my head back, draining half of my glass. It’s a damn good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow, because it sure would suck spending twelve hours in the hospital taking care of other people while nursing a hangover.

Placing the goblet on the table, I move it around slowly, waiting for her to say something. Maggie’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and I watch as she takes several small sips of her wine. Minutes tick by, and eventually she reaches for the newspaper on the counter and flips through the pages. She sure as hell isn’t making this easy on me, that’s for sure.

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Maggie levels me with unyielding eyes. “Igualmente, my friend.”

“I hate it when you do that. You know I can’t understand Spanish.”

Maggie snorts with laughter as I finish off the Stella Rosa. Lifting up the bottle of wine, she refills my glass and then offers me a cocky smile. “Si dejaras de ser una perra, yo no lo haria.”

When she starts speaking Spanish, I typically just ignore her, because if I play into it, she won’t stop. She simply loves to torment me. So instead, my mind races, trying to figure out the best way to put into words what I’m feeling. When I draw a complete blank, I decide to just go for it.

Drawing in a deep breath, I push down the anxiety that is keeping me from opening up. “I’m not in love with Wyatt anymore.”

Maggie’s smile falters, and her shoulders rise and fall when she sighs. “I know.”

The casual way that rolls off her tongue irks me. “Really?” My tone is much sharper than I intend, and Maggie frowns at me. “How the hell did you know when I just figured it out myself?”

“Did you, though, just figure it out? Really?” Her eyes narrow and she crosses her arms over her chest. “Because I’ve seen it for at least the past year.”

“No,” I say firmly, unwilling to believe I could have been blind for that long. “The past several months, yes, but—”

“Seriously, Katie?” she snaps, pausing momentarily to look at me like I’ve grown a second head. My eyebrows are practically in my hairline as I wait for her to continue. “Fine. How often do you and Wyatt go out?”

“That’s not fair, Mags. You know damn well that I’ve pushed him away since Daddy died.” Just the mention of my dad’s death causes a thick band to constrict around my heart and my eyes instantly well up with tears.

I watch as regret replaces determination on Maggie’s face. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” Waving her off, I take another sip of my wine. “We should be able to mention it without me going into freak-out mode. Keep going…” I urge, wanting to move past this as quickly as possible.

“Okay, how often did you and Wyatt hang out before the accident?”

She already knows the answer to that because she’s always with us, but I know she’s trying to make a point so I play along. “A couple of times a week.”

She nods, accepting my answer. “And who was initiating those get-togethers?”

I open my mouth to reply and then quickly snap it shut. Son of a bitch. “Wyatt,” I whisper. My mind works furiously to recall a time when I initiated anything with him, and I come up completely empty.

“And how often have you sent me a last-minute text to come over and hang out with the two of you?”

No. There’s no way that I’ve been avoiding alone time with Wyatt. Right? We’ve spent plenty of time together, just the two of us. “Okay, yes, I would invite you over, but Wyatt always stayed the night after you left and we sure as hell weren’t knitting scarves in bed.”