"For now."
"Forever." I smile. "But you wouldn't understand that. You've never had anyone love you enough to stay. And based on how you treat people, you never will."
Angela's face goes white.
Then red.
Then she throws her mimosa at me.
The glass shatters against the wall behind my head.
I flinch back, more from surprise than fear.
"What the fuck!" Ulf steps forward, putting himself between me and Angela.
"Get out!" Angela screams. "Get out of my house!"
"It's my house!" Trisha shouts. "And I want her gone too! Take your shit and leave!"
"Gladly." I grab the last of my bags. "Hakon, Ulf—let's go."
We push past them—Trisha pressed against the wall, Angela still seething—and head for the door.
We're almost there when Trisha grabs my arm.
"You're making a mistake," she says, voice low and vicious. "He's going to leave you. They always do. And when he does, don't come crawling back to us."
I look at her hand on my arm.
Then at her face.
"Let go of me."
"Not until you admit?—"
I don't let her finish.
I yank my arm free, and when she grabs for me again, I shove her.
Hard.
She stumbles backward, catches herself on the wall.
"Don't touch me," I say. "Don't ever touch me again."
"You pushed me!"
"And I'll do it again if you put your hands on me." I'm shaking now—adrenaline and anger and something that feels like power. "We're done, Trisha. Done. You don't get to touch me. You don't get to talk to me. You don't get to exist in my life anymore."
"You're insane?—"
"Maybe. But at least I'm free."
I turn and walk out the door.
Don't look back.
Don't hesitate.
