“And wouldn’t that be fun?” She licked her lips. “My parents did that. It wasn’t pretty.”
“We’re not your parents.”
“No,” she said, her voice a whisper. “We’re not. I thought we were so much more.”
Before he had a chance to respond, she stood. “I’m sorry, Griffin.” Her voice was unnaturally stiff, her skin pale. “I love you—God, I love you. And I can’t believe I’m saying this. But this is my line in the sand. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it would work just fine. But I don’t care. That’s not what I want—I want the man I love to be beside me. Miss a few trips, sure. But as a lifestyle? No. And I can’t—”
Her voice broke on a sob. “I can’t start a relationship knowing that we don’t have the same vision, and that the life I dream of can’t ever happen.”
She started toward the door, and panic bubbled inside him. “Bev, wait.” He hurried after her. “We can make this work.”
“No,” she said, “we can’t. But you can. And, dammit Griffin, if you want me—if you want us—you know exactly what you have to do.”