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pain upon. The guy had some nerve.
    Henry came bursting out of the Red Cup a minute later. The worry on his face eased when he saw me still standing in the parking lot. “Elsie,” he said, stopping a few feet from me. He didn’t say anything for a long time; he just stared at me with a deep frown creasing his forehead.
    “Just say it. Demand that I stay in Oklahoma for you, because that’s what you do. You demand and take. And me, I give.” I choked on the words. “But I’m done giving.”
    “Then tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it,” he said with a desperate tint to his voice.
    “I don’t know what I want you to do,” I said. “I only know what I need to do.”
     
    That night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time, just thinking about my life—where I had been and where I was headed.
    I loved Henry, there was no question—but was my love for him worth more than my love for myself? I had given him so much of myself, had followed him and waited for him, and still it hadn’t been enough.
    He had come back for me, and even though I wanted nothing more than to return to our old life together, a little voice in my heart kept insisting that I needed to do right by me first. My job here had become stagnant, the promotion I’d been hoping for dissolving when the company fell on hard times. The job in Denver was going to be a leap in my career. Now more than ever I needed to put my own future first even if it meant leaving Henry behind.
    If he really loved me like he claimed, he would do the right thing and set me free. I had let him go once, to go find himself; he needed to do the same for me now.
    So it was with an aching heart that I turned on my laptop, opened up my email, and told Rebecca Holt of Shake Design that I was going to take the job.
     
     
     
    3  |  THE LAST DATE
     
     
     
    I didn’t hear from Henry for the next few days, and it was just as well. I didn’t need him around trying to change my mind, clouding what had become my clear path. On Friday I put in my official letter of resignation and had an emotional talk with my boss about my career. She told me that she would have done anything to keep me, but that she unfortunately had no raise or promotion to offer. It was tough to say goodbye to the place I’d called home for the last several years, but deep in my gut I knew it was time to move on.
    When I came home from work that night, Henry was waiting for me in the parking lot. He got out of his car when I emerged from my own and he approached me tentatively.
    “Hey,” he said with his hands in his pockets.
    I gathered my purse and coat, not meeting his eye. “Hi.”
    “How are you?”
    “Exhausted,” I replied, heading towards my apartment. “You?”
    “Pretty shitty.” He followed me inside, both of us too tired to deal with pleasantries. He stood in the living room awkwardly, looking like he wanted to say something but not knowing if he should.
    “What?” I asked, a little irritated.
    “I passed the written exam and physical. Next week I have the initial interview.”
    “Oh. Congratulations,” I said, busying myself by decluttering the kitchen counters. “I handed in my letter of resignation.”
    He sighed, his shoulders visibly sagging. “So you’re still leaving.”
    I couldn’t look at him because I knew what I’d see on his face was going to make me cry. “Yes. I have to start in three weeks.”
    “When do you move?”
    “Next Friday.”
    “I’ll help you.”
    I looked up at him in surprise. “You want to help me move?”
    He rubbed a palm across his forehead. “What else can I do? If you’re leaving, I’m going to spend every last minute with you, even if it means helping you leave me.”
    “Henry, you know this isn’t about you, right?”
    “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ve been thinking and thinking and even though I hate it, I know you have to do this. I left you once, it’s only fair that you do the same.”
    “It’s