She shrugs like she doesn’t really care what I have to say.
I rub the back of my neck as I grow frustrated—not at her, but at myself. If I had only kept a lid on my temper, Iwouldn’t have wasted my entire morning sitting around, waiting for my wife to stop avoiding me.
“Where did you go?”
“Out.”
“Ciara…”
She rolls her eyes. “I went for a run.”
“You run?” I blurt, and Ciara scowls at me.
“Only away from you.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You left your phone.”
“So?”
“So… What if something happened to you?”
“Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me messing anything else around here.”
“Can you be serious?”
“I am.”
Fuck, she is not making this easy for me.
“Can I just say that you weren’t entirely innocent? You had no right to change things without clearing it with me first."
She stays quiet.
I take the opportunity to lean forward, bracing my elbows on the table, and I don’t miss the way her eyes flick over me as if she’s remembering what happened the last time we sat across from one another.
And as much as I liked it, I cannot cross that line again. At least not until I’ve made it very clear that what she did was wrong.
"It’s not just about the system, Ciara. It’s about what it represented."
Finally, her expression softens, and her shoulders slump, and for some reason, the defeat in her eyes hits me harder than any argument ever could.
"You’re right. I’m sorry. When you lose someone you love, every little thing connected to them feels sacred. I had noidea the system was his, but still, it was insensitive of me to change your father’s system without permission.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly, but I swallow past it.
Her voice is barely a whisper. "If you change something, it feels like you’re erasing them. It’s why I couldn’t bear to redecorate my father’s office. It just felt…wrong.”
I nod once because that’s exactly it, and hearing her say it out loud forms a crack in my chest.
For a minute, neither of us says anything, but this time the silence doesn’t feel heavy. If anything, it feels…comforting.
Ciara’s eyes go to her mug again. "Can we call a truce?"
I allow a small smile to tug at the corners of my mouth. "We can call a truce."
I have to swallow a laugh at the look of determination on her face as she reaches her hand across the table. I do the same and envelope her fingers in mine, loving how small they feel but also strong.
I squeeze her fingers before letting go. "Next time, let’s try communicating with each other before you go hacking into my shit."
