"We need to talk," she said.
Four words.
People joke about those four words because they're almost always bad.
In that moment, my stomach dropped before my brain even knew why.
"Okay."
I put the beer down.
"What's going on?"
Claire didn't look at me.
She stared toward the water.
"I met someone yesterday."
There are sentences your mind refuses to understand the first time.
I heard every word.
They were ordinary words.
But they didn't fit together.
"You met someone?"
"At the pool bar."
"The people you mentioned?"
She hesitated.
"One of them."
"Okay."
"We talked."
I waited.
"For hours."
The pressure in my chest increased.
"While I was upstairs?"
Claire nodded.
"While you were sleeping."
I remember focusing on the condensation sliding down my beer bottle.
It seemed easier than looking at her.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we connected."
"Connected."
"Daniel."
"No, I'm asking. What does that mean?"
She exhaled.
"I don't know how else to explain it."
"Try."
Claire finally looked at me.
"I felt something."
I said nothing.
"I haven't felt excited in a long time."
"About him."
"About anything."
The answer somehow hurt worse.
She continued.
"I haven't felt excited about us in years."
That was when I realized this wasn't a confession.
It was an announcement.
She hadn't come onto the balcony to discuss something.
She'd come to tell me what she'd decided.
"Years?" I asked.
"I don't know. Maybe not years exactly."
"You just said years."
"I mean it's been a while."
"And talking to some guy at a resort fixed that?"
"No."
She looked frustrated.
"That's not what I'm saying."
"It sounds exactly like what you're saying."
"I'm saying talking to him made me realize how dead I've felt."
That sentence landed hard.
Dead.
Four years reduced to something dead.
The apartment.
Sunday breakfasts.
Family Christmases.
Helping her move.
Holding her when her grandmother died.
Driving eight hours to attend her cousin's wedding.
The night she stayed awake with me at the hospital when my father had emergency surgery.
All of it.
Dead.
I leaned back.
"So what are you saying?"
Claire's eyes dropped.
"I'm saying this trip is over for us."
I actually thought I'd misunderstood.
"What?"
"I don't want to pretend for another week."
"Okay."
"I want to stay."
"We have seven days left."
"I know."
"So what are you telling me?"
She took a breath.
"I'm not going home with you."
Something inside me became very still.
Claire continued.
"He's staying at the resort."
I looked at her.
She swallowed.
"I want to see where this goes."
For several seconds, I heard nothing except the music below us and waves beyond the beach.
"You've known him one day."
"I know how it sounds."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Because I'm not sure you do."
Her expression hardened.