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“Megan…”

“I had a call from my boss today,” Megan interrupted. “And by ‘boss’ I mean the boss. Lucy Whitaker.”

Megan watched as Vanessa’s face began transforming from worry to understanding. The woman was smart. It was one of the things Megan found sexy about her.

“Oh,” Vanessa uttered.

Megan swallowed.

“When?” Vanessa asked.

After taking a deep breath, Megan said, “Two weeks.”

Vanessa’s mouth dropped open; her eyes went wide.

“Fuck…” Vanessa whispered.

“Yeah.”

They both sat there in silence for a few moments. Megan’s heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted to happen in the next few moments.

Vanessa stared at the floor.

“Doesn’t give you much time,” she said.

“No.”

“All the packing and stuff.”

“I know.”

Finally, Vanessa cleared her throat.

“Well, we knew it had to end sometime, right?” she said.

Megan’s heart deflated. Was that all she was going to get? Was this the evidence she needed that Vanessa didn’t view what they had as more than a summer fling?

“Yeah, we did,” she said, plastering on a fake smile.

More silence.

Megan was practically quivering from holding in all she wanted to say. But what could she say, really? She had gone into this thing with Vanessa knowing that it had to end because of New York, and also knowing that Vanessa had been upfront and honest with her, telling her from the very beginning that she was in no place to have a girlfriend because of La Vida Mocha.

But suddenly, Vanessa stood up. That was odd.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked, still sitting.

Vanessa seemed to be confused, like someone who had just suffered a blow to the head and now had no idea where they were or how they had gotten there.

“I’m going to go home,” Vanessa said.

Megan stood.

“What?” she almost screeched.

“I’m going home,”

Vanessa repeated, moving towards the door.