19. Mila #2
"Nothing. He was supportive. Encouraging. He wants what's best for me." I'm fighting to keep my voice even, to maintain the smile that feels more like a grimace. "Which is exactly how it should be. No drama, no begging me to stay, just—mutual understanding that this was always the plan."
"Was it?" Harper's question is quiet. "Your plan?"
No. The answer screams through my head but stays locked behind my teeth.
My plan was staying without admitting I wanted to stay.
My plan was building a life here slowly enough that no one would notice, including myself.
My plan was Luke looking at me like I was permanent instead of temporary, like I was someone worth choosing instead of someone he was relieved to send away.
"Yes," I lie. "Of course it was."
The server returns with their drinks. Sadie takes a long sip of whiskey, still studying me too closely.
"When would you start?"
"End of April. Three weeks, basically. Gives me time to pack, find an apartment in Helena, wrap up my clients here.
" I'm listing it mechanically, the same way I did with Luke.
Creating a timeline that makes this feel inevitable instead of devastating.
"Vanessa said they're excited to have me.
That the team needs someone with my background. "
"I'm sure they are." Harper's fingers tap against her wine glass. "You're incredibly talented. Any firm would be lucky to have you."
But. The word hangs unspoken in the air between us. But what about Luke. But what about the ranch. But what about the life you've been building here for months.
"Luke really said you should go?" Sadie asks again, like she's trying to reconcile the man she knows with the words I'm describing.
"He did." I take another drink, liquid courage that isn't actually making me brave. "He was very clear. Told me not to think about anything here, that this is my career and my future. Everything I've been working toward."
Technically true. Emotionally devastating. But I'm getting very good at separating the two.
"And you're okay with that?" Harper's voice is careful, gentle in the way it gets when she's worried but trying not to push.
Am I okay with that? With Luke essentially handing me an exit route and encouraging me to take it? With packing up my apartment and leaving behind the first place that's felt like home in years?
"I'm fine." The smile I paste on feels like it might crack my face. "It's a good thing. Great opportunity. Luke's right—I'd be stupid not to take it."
"Mila—"
"Really, I'm fine." I cut Harper off before she can push further, before sympathy makes me fall apart completely. "It's what makes sense. What I should've been planning all along instead of?—"
Instead of what? Falling in love? Letting myself believe I could stay? Getting comfortable in someone else's life until he got tired of me taking up space?
"Instead of getting too settled," I finish. "This is good. Clean. No mess, no drama. Just moving on to the next thing like an adult."
The words taste like ash but I keep smiling, keep pretending my heart isn't breaking with every breath.
Sadie and Harper exchange another look, this one longer. More worried.
"Have you told anyone else?" Sadie asks.
"Not yet. Figured I'd tell you guys first, then let my clients know, then—I don't know. Send out some announcements or whatever you do when you're leaving."
Leaving. The word feels heavier every time I say it.
Harper reaches across the table, covers my hand with hers. Her fingers are warm, steady, anchoring me when everything feels like it's spinning apart.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," she says quietly. "You know that, right? You can stay. You can choose to stay."
But I wasn't chosen. That's the part that's killing me. Luke had every opportunity to ask me not to go, to tell me he wanted me here, to give me any indication that what we had was more than convenient and temporary.
Instead he told me to leave.
"I want to." The lie sits bitter on my tongue. "It's the right move. Career-wise, life-wise, all of it. Luke sees that. I see that. It's time."
Time to go before I become too much. Before he realizes I'm chaos in human form and he deserves someone steadier. Before I embarrass myself by wanting things I was never supposed to want.
I drain the rest of my beer, signal the server for another round. If I'm going to sit here and pretend my life isn't falling apart, I'm going to need more alcohol.
Sadie's still watching me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. "You're sure about this?"
"Completely." Another smile, this one definitely not reaching my eyes. "Fresh start in Helena. Good job, good money, good opportunity. Everything's good."
Good. The word has lost all meaning, repeated until it's just sounds covering up the screaming inside my head.
Harper squeezes my hand once before letting go, her expression heartbroken in a way that makes my chest tighten.
"We're going to miss you," she says softly. "So much."
The tears I've been fighting all day press hot behind my eyes but I blink them back. I can't break down here, can't admit that leaving feels like tearing myself in half. Can't acknowledge that somewhere in the last year, everything here stopped being temporary and started being home.
"I'll visit," I promise, even though we both know visits won't be the same. "It's only two hours. We can still do girls' nights."
"It won't be the same." Sadie's voice is quiet, certain. "You know that."
I do know that. Know that leaving means losing the daily texture of this life—morning coffee at the ranch, Harper's spontaneous visits, Sadie dragging me to community events I pretend to hate but secretly love.
Know that Helena might be close but it's not here, not this tiny town that somehow became mine without me noticing.
"No," I agree. "But it'll be fine. We'll make it work."
More lies. More smiling through devastation. More pretending I'm fine when I'm so far from fine I can't even see it from here.
The server brings our drinks and we all take long sips, the silence stretching uncomfortable until Harper breaks it with forced brightness.
"We should celebrate," she says. "New job, new adventure. That's exciting, right?"
"Right." I lift my beer in a toast that feels more like a funeral. "To new beginnings."
We clink glasses and drink and I paste on my smile until my face hurts, pretending Luke didn't just make it devastatingly clear that I was always temporary in his life.
Pretending this town was never really home.
Pretending I'm fine.