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Your heart hurt – actually fucking physically hurt. You had run it through your mind before you saw him again how you’d handle it if he said no, if he decided he couldn’t come with you. That was actually the only thing you’d prepared for. You’d hoped he would say yes, but you hadn’t prepared for it. But when he got in the Jeep, you felt so happy. Now, as you continued to drive, going deeper into Mexico, further away from Ian, you yelled at yourself, called yourself a pussy, a bitch, for having gotten your hopes up, for having believed that he could actually commit, that he wouldn’t just run away, which it seemed was his fucking area of expertise, especially when it came to you. Why the fuck had you believed?