I stare at him, praying that difference isus. That he says it’s because he loves me.
“They were married. We aren't.”
The words hit harder than any slap.
I say softly, blinking fast, “No, but we were in a relationship. Or, at least, I thought we were.”
“Guess you thought wrong,” he mutters under his breath.
I grip the edge of my seat so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“I thought wrong?” I echo, voice shaking. “Funny. I’ve never known you to share a bedroom with a woman before.” My throat burns. “Just me.”
He lets out a humorless, low laugh.
“About that. I think we need to put a break on whateverthisis.”
The words drop like a bomb between us.
He doesn't look at me when he adds, “You’re clearly getting too clingy.”
I suck in a ragged breath. It would be so easy to scream. To beg. But I won't. I lift my chin.
“And what about Teddy?” I ask quietly. “What about the deal? Do you really think we’re going to convince them we’re a happy couple like this?”
Liam finally glances at me and shrugs.
“I think you’re a good actress.”
The cruelty in it is almost impressive.
“And that you can make people believe whatever you choose.”
The final nail. The last betrayal.
And somehow I still manage to whisper, “Good to know.”
A thick, punishing silence falls between us for the rest of the drive. Every mile, every second ticking by like a countdown to something I don't want to face.
When we finally pull up to the house, Liam doesn't even glance at me. He hops out of the truck without a word, striding toward the barn with stiff, angry steps. I watch him go, my chest tight, my hands shaking in my lap. For a moment, I sit there, frozen. Hoping and praying he’ll turn back.
He doesn’t.
Finally, I force myself out of the truck, the evening air cool against my tear-slick cheeks. Inside the house, Sammi is waiting at the door, her little black body twining around my ankles with a soft, questioning meow. The second I hear her, I break. I scoop her up into my arms, burying my face in her fur as the first sob rips out of me, raw and jagged.
She purrs, small and steady, trying to soothe me as I carry her down the hall.
Into our room.
Intohisroom.
I set her gently on the bed, wiping my face with trembling hands.
“Guess we should move into the spare room,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Sammi meows again, curling around the comforter like she doesn’t understand why everything is falling apart. God, I wish I didn’t either.
Packing my things feels like ripping pieces of my heart out. One drawer at a time. One hanger at a time. One memory at a time. I move slowly, deliberately, careful not to make noise as ifsilence will somehow make this less real. As if Liam might come walking through the door and tell me to stop.
