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He looks bewildered. Like he expected to waltz into the Colorado Club, sweep me off my feet, and take me home to Oregon. Like he thought I’d just been waiting for him to come and rescue me. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I try and block out the view from the bus. I don’t want Frank to exist in Colorado in my mind—not even the memory of him against the backdrop of pine trees. This place is freedom to me, and I don’t want anything changing that. “I’m sorry if that’s why you came here,” I say. “I sent back the ring because I should have never accepted it in the first place. I’m sorry if you interpreted that as me reaching out to you.”

He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to hold back from saying something. I’m not sure I want to hear it. It feels like a dark cloud has passed over the brilliant blue sky. A sense of dread gathers in my stomach.

“Did my mom say it was a good idea to come and visit?” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

“When I told her you sent back the ring, she said it was your way of apologizing.”

I don’t think I’ve ever hated my mother more than I do in this moment. Looking back, it’s easy to see how she manipulated and controlled me and my sisters. I just feel like a fool for not seeing it. For not breaking free sooner. It only occurs to me now that she didn’t restrict her appalling behavior to her daughters. She’ll do anything to get what she wants. Frank didn’t deserve to be rejected by me a first time, let alone a second.

“I’m sorry she said that to you,” I say. “The fact is, my mom wanted us to get married because you’re rich. She saw you as a meal ticket.”

He nods, like I’m not telling him anything new.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Guilt for accepting his proposal, for not confessing to him what he was to our family, circles my chest and squeezes.

The bus pulls into the stop in town and we get off in silence.

“Let’s go to the coffee shop.”

Frank looks up and down Main Street. “It’s small,” he says.

I glance up at the mountains, jutting into the perfectly still blue sky, and wonder what he’s talking about. Star Falls is huge. A place I can spread my wings. A place I can be me. This place is bigger than the entire state of Oregon.

The coffee shop—Twilight Latte—is on the corner opposite the diner. I pass it every time I come into town, but I’ve never gone in. Which is why it comes as a surprise that theTwilightin Twilight Latte is a reference to the movie phenomenon, not the time of day. There’s no room for doubt when we push through the door. For a start, music I recognize from the movies is playing in the background. The barista is sporting fangs, and there’s a life-size cutout of Robert Pattinson by the cash register. It distracts me from the fact I’m about to have coffee with Frank.

“This place is weird,” he says from beside me.

“It’s my first time in here.” Itisweird. But I can’t help being kinda charmed by it. Nothing but respect for sticking to a theme.

We order our drinks—I insist on paying—and head to one of the smaller tables near the window. Pine trees have been painted around the edges, not to reflect our beautiful surroundings, but to mimic the backdrop of Forks, Washington—the setting ofTwilight. This town is wild. And I love it.

I tamp down my smile and turn to Frank. “I don’t want you to think I didn’t want to marry you because I don’t like you.”

He lets out a rueful huff as if to say,Then why didn’t you marry me?

“I thought that maybe we could move?” he suggests. “To a bigger house. Maybe one of your sisters could come stay with us.” The hope in his expression kills me.

I upended this man’s future and bruised his heart. He didn’t deserve that. And even if he wasn’t my choice, I should have had the strength to walk away before he got hurt. Why wasn’t I stronger? Why didn’t I stand up to my mother? I still haven’t. I’m still running from her.

“You’re a really good man, Frank.”

He rolls his eyes. “So you keep saying. But what can I do? Just tell me. I’m not a man who’s good at the… romantic stuff. But tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Are you sure?” he says, his tone urgent.

Images of Byron fill my mind. Him grinning on the porch holding his hot chocolate. Him sitting across from me in the diner. Him holding Athena’s cat carrier as he came out of the vet’s office, even though he said he hated cats. Him over me. Under me. At my feet, between my thighs.

I chose Byron.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I’m not the right woman for you.”

He sighs as if he knew it all along, but had to try anyway. I have to admire him for that—knowing what he wants and going for it. There’s a lot about Frank to like.

“You know Lydia wants a job at the garage,” he says.