"I think maybe you need to calm down," Wells says.

Let it be known that advising a woman to calm down has never once resulted in the act of calming down. I inhale deeply, then exhale through clenched teeth, pivoting on my heel to walk in the opposite direction. He stands there, watching me as I pace back and forth on the sidewalk, processing everything that just transpired inside. I came out here because there was no way I could sit back at my desk and focus on work after everything that unfolded. Wells found me about five minutes later.

"You calm down," I mutter.

"I am perfectly calm," he responds in a soothing tone. I glance over at him as I pace in the opposite direction. His hands rest in the pockets of his impeccably fitting pants, a smirk playing on his lips as we stand outside in front of the Seattle Sun-Times building.

"Do you think this is funny?" I question him, casting my gaze downward at my feet as I walk.

"No, I don't."

"Because we also most got fired just a second ago."

"But we didn't."

I glance up at him again, rolling my eyes in exasperation. How can he remain so calm after everything that just happened? Meanwhile, I'm here, feeling like a snow globe that was violently shaken, with everything in disarray and nothing settling into place the way I like. I pivot to walk towards him, shooting a glare in his direction as I pass by once more.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he insists, crossing his arms.

I turn again and walk in the opposite direction. "I'm thinking I'm mad at you for not telling me," I declare, abruptly stopping to confront him. "The New York Times, Wells. How could you not share something that important with me? I'm furious that you wouldn't tell me something so significant." Closing my eyes, I clench my jaw in frustration. "But I'm also so freaking proud of you. I mean, god, the New York Times, Wells. That's huge."

"I know," he admits, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I was just... I don't know. I was so worried that it might change things. I didn't know where we stood, or if it would complicate things with us, and then I waited too long to tell you," he says, placing his hands on his hips, glancing down at the floor. "And then Nora told me what she heard you talking about with Ellis and Delaney, and yeah."

"Is that what happened? She heard Delaney say you were a hookup?"

He lets out a soft sigh, nodding his head.

I clench my jaw, closing my eyes tight as I mentally remind myself to murder Delaney later this week. "I'm sorry. Delaney has a big mouth. That wasn't... if Nora... If Nora had just listened to the conversation a little bit longer she would hav–"

"It's okay." Wells says interjecting, "I know now."

I bite on my bottom lip, gaze fixed on him as I attempt to process everything. "The New York Times, Wells."

"I'm aware," he says, a boyish smile gracing his lips.

"New York," I echo like I can't quite get it through my mind.

He nods, running his teeth over his lower lip, his gaze dropping to the ground again, kicking a small rock down the sidewalk.

I've just confessed my love to this man, and he's about to leave for a job across the country – a job I want him to take. He told me before that this was always the plan, to go back to New York, so why didn't I anticipate that he would actually go through with it?

Maybe it's because every time he spoke of leaving, it was tied to going back to his fiancée from when they were together, but they're not anymore, right? Or are they still a thing? I know they talk; he mentioned he talked to her the same day he gave me her business card. Is she the reason he's going back? For her? I mean, he never even said he loved me back; I just assumed he did when he kissed me. Oh god, have I overlooked a crucial piece to all of this?

"You just went down a rabbit hole, didn't you?" Wells says, yanking me from my thoughts.

A gust of cold wind blows, and I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe."

"Tell me," he urges as I wrap my arms around myself, silently wishing I had remembered to grab my coat on the way out.

Nervously chewing on my lip, I meet his gaze. "Are you...," I start, clearing my throat, "Are you, um... Are you going back to New York because of your ex?"

His eyes widen, and he quickly begins shaking his head. "No, Juniper. No. That's not what this is about at all. Why would you even think that?"

"It's just that when you told me to contact her about my book, you mentioned talking to her, and now you're moving to New York, and I just thought..." I shake my head, closing my eyes as I attempt to articulate my thoughts.

He extends his hand towards me, gently grasping my arms. "No, Juniper."

I meet his gaze as I open my eyes. "And then I told you that I..." I pause, looking back down, taking a stuttering breath in. "That I love you. And you never responded, you just kissed me, and I still don't even know if–"

"Juniper," he interrupts, delicately placing two fingers under my chin, tilting my head to meet his green eyes. They flicker between mine. "I love you."

"Oh," is all that escapes my lips. He leans in slowly, placing a tender kiss on my lips, pulling me close and holding me snug against him.

Our foreheads meet. "This has absolutely nothing to do with Emilia," he whispers, shaking his head ever so slightly against mine. "Do you hear me? You are who I want."

I nod, and as a strand of my hair dances in the wind, he delicately tucks it behind my ear before drawing me into the warmth of his chest. I melt into the relief that washes over me, and he holds me there for a long moment.

"You never did call her, did you?" he asks, finally breaking the silence.

"No, I was mad at you," I murmur against him. He chuckles, his laughter vibrating against my cheek.

I draw back to look at his face, finding him smiling at me, brackets forming on both sides of his lips – my favorite smile. "So what do we do now then? Do we do long distance?"

He loosens his grip on me, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. "No, I don't know, maybe...," he says, blowing a breath through his lips. "Maybe I can find another job out here and —"

"No!" I exclaim, my eyes widening. "No, Wells, you have to go to New York. You can't pass up on a job like The New York Times."

He inhales sharply, then deflates, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes tilt upward, almost as if he were expecting a different response from me.

He turns to me after a long stretch of silence. "Maybe this is what we need right now, you know?" He starts, "I'll be busy settling in in New York, working long hours, and you'll have the time to fully move on from Beckett completely—pack your things, find a new apartment, have some time to figure out what you want. Maybe this is for the best." He says it as if he's trying to convince not just me but himself as well.

I gently shake my head, eyebrows furrowed, as his hands settle on my waist. "You don't think we should be together? You don't want to do long distance?"

"No, Juniper, I do," he says, my hands gripping his forearms. "You have no idea how badly I want you. But we'll both be caught up with busy schedules. At least at first."

Busy doesn't scare me. I want to say.

He wants to not be together. I know he makes a point. I mean, I've just moved my belongings out of Beckett's apartment, finally putting an end to that chapter. And Wells is moving across the country. He'll be adjusting and settling in. Logically, it all adds up.

But everything inside of me screams to not let him leave without me.

"And then," he continues, "after a few months, we can reassess everything, see where we stand, if we still want this, if we want us, and then decide our next steps. Maybe I won't like it there, and I can come back here, or you can come to New York." He pauses, tilting his eyes up to the grey clouds as he saws his lower lip in between his teeth. "Or, we could come up with a schedule. Take turns visiting each other every few months. I'll come home for Christmas, you can come in spring when Central Park is blooming."

"Every few months," I repeat. It sounds like forever.

He brushes a kiss on the top of my forehead, and as if he can read my thoughts, he assures me, "It won't be forever. We will figure it out."

"Hey, Wells," a voice calls from behind me, causing both of us to startle. He releases his hold on me, turning away to see one of our coworkers. She pauses mid-step as she registers that it's me who Wells was holding just a second ago, and I now realize how peculiar it must appear to everyone at work. People have only ever known us to hate each other.

"Oh, hey, Juniper," she says, her face scrunched up in confusion. "Sorry, I didn't realize... I didn't know that, um... I didn't think you two were close?" She phrases it like a question as if she expects an answer.

I offer her a closed-lip smile while Wells chimes in, "Oh, we're very close."

"Oh," she lets out a nervous laugh. "Well, I guess, um, I'll see you two inside."

Wells envelops me with his arm, and I rest my cheek against his chest as we watch her enter the Seattle Sun-Times building. "People still think we hate each other," I comment to him.

He buries his face in my hair. "They also think you're still dating Beckett."

"Well, that's a problem."

"Yes, it is," he mumbles against my temple.

I exhale a long shakey sigh, steadying my breath as I turn to look at him again. "Can we at least just pretend that you're still mine for the next two weeks? One last time, can we just pretend?"

"Juniper, I will always be yours."

Then don't go, I want to say. Please, don't leave me.

"Two weeks, Juniper. You'll have me for two weeks before I have to leave."

I nod, closing my eyes. My chest squeezes so tight it hurts because two weeks will never be enough time.