My mother always said "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make her drink."

In my case, the horse was curious, tasted the water, then spit it back in my face.

More specifically, Rachel said the two words I least wanted to hear: "I can't."

I'd let my mother take over the shop and bought a one way ticket to Canada. It was nearly tulip season, which I hoped would help me feel more at home.

I just had to escape. I had promised Rachel I would disappear. It was just as well that I was leaving; I knew I wouldn't be able to see her again without completely breaking down.

I noticed traffic building up in front of my cab and leaned forward to mention it to the driver, who was obviously distracted by his lewd phone conversation. Rather than listen to me, he opted to yell at me for interrupting him.

I made a face at the back of his head, settling into my seat as we slowed to a stop in the middle of traffic.

Moments later, my phone rang. I dug in my pocket for the device, wanting to cry when I saw Rachel's number.

"There's nothing to say. You can't do it," I said, ignoring the obnoxiously loud singing cyclist that rode past the cab. "Bye," I murmured, feeling heartbroken all over again as I said the word. I snapped my phone shut and shoved it into my pocket, willing myself not to cry.

"You're a wanker, Number Nine!"

I turned my head to better hear the echoing cry. It couldn't be...

I all but kicked the door open, clambering up onto a nearby truck.

Rachel was only a few yards away, staring at me. "Luce, I can do this! I can do this!"

I couldn't believe it, but her smile finally convinced me. I jumped to the ground and raced toward her, meeting her somewhere in the middle.

Seeing no fear or doubt in her eyes, I kissed her, knowing that this time, she was all mine.

I guess this time, the horse finally decided it was thirsty.