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She gave me an odd smile. “You do know I can’t actually read minds.”

“You get damn well close enough. Guess.”

“You… admitted to Paisley how you feel but you can’t get together.”

Asking her to guess was the wrong idea. She was going to see all my reactions and start reading into them. “Nope.” Even though she was not far off. Was it even technically incorrect?

“Hm.” She chewed her lip. “The way you’re closed off, how you have that far-off look in your eyes like you’re looking at everything from a bird’s-eye view… how you seem to be lookingat everything with a sense of nostalgia for things not even gone. You have a big life change coming up, I imagine. Are you closing up shop here? Maybe… leaving?”

My heart pounded wildly, and I had a sick feeling in my stomach—my mouth was dry, and the automatic response was to deny it, but what the hell. She’d know I was lying. “Yep,” I made myself say, and she went wide-eyed.

“Seriously? You… you’re leaving?”

I sighed. “I have a lot of work to get to…”

“When?”

“The work? Right now, actually. The point was saying I need to be alone.”

“Harper.”

I turned away, leaning back against the counter. I really needed someone to walk in. Of course nobody was. “End of April.”

“What? Oh my god, that’s so soon.”

“Yep.”

“You…” She was quiet for a long time, seconds melting out into hours, before she spoke softly. “Keeping it inside really is tearing you apart, isn’t it?”

It felt like she’d reached into my chest and grabbed my heart, twisted it around. I took a steadying breath before I responded. “I’m working up to telling everyone. It just seems like a pain. And I’m not used to being under that much attention… it’s kind of annoying.”

“Where are you going?”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Of course.”

I chewed my cheek. “New York. I, uh… got an offer to work for an ultra-luxe catering company. Piggybacking off my success in the competition.”

“Really?” Her voice lifted a little. “Harper—that’s huge. Congratulations.”

I wished she’d had stuck with being sad. Somehow, saying that made it feel realer, made it hurt twice as much. I made a noncommittal grunt, shrugging. “It’s just part of the climb. Nothing special.”

She was quiet for a while longer before she said in a voice so small I barely heard it, “Hey… Harper?”

“Yep?”

“Who are you doing all of this for?”

I sighed. “For a lovely young woman called Harper.”

“You… have that feeling about you like I did when I was going to leave for the Olympics. Like you’re doing it all for something outside of you. But it’s so… sad.”

Christ, I couldnothave this conversation. I pushed away from the counter. “I’m doing this for me. We’ve talked about it plenty. I need to be moving forward.”

“Or what?” she called after me as I headed for the back.

Or else she’d be disappointed.