“You’re being dramatic,” he said finally.
I stood up, clutching the pajamas to my chest. “Dramatic. Right. Because finding your boyfriend fucking another woman is totally something I should just shrug off.”
“It’s not like that, and you know it.” He stepped into the room, his voice taking on that patient tone that made me want to scream. “Crystal isn’t another woman. She’s a club girl. It’s completely different.”
“How?” I shoved the pajamas into the box with more force than necessary. “Your dick was inside her, Dutch. How is that different?”
His jaw tightened. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” I spun to face him. “You’ll go fuck Crystal again? Oh, wait, you were probably already planning to do that anyway since you weren’t expecting me tonight.”
“That’s not—” He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the styled blonde strands. “Look, this is just how things work in the MC. My father did the same thing for twenty years. My mother never had a problem with it.”
“Your mother stayed because she had no choice!” The words exploded out of me. “She had no education, no job, no money of her own. I’m not your mother, Dutch. I have options.”
“So what, you’re just going to throw away everything we have because of this?” He gestured vaguely, like ‘this’ was some minor inconvenience. “Because I got my rocks off with a club girl?”
“Everything we have?” I laughed, sharp and bitter. “What exactly do we have, Dutch? Apparently what I thought we had and what you think we have are two very different things.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone he used when he expected to be obeyed. “We have a good thing, Indira. Don’t fuck it up because you’re being emotional.”
“Emotional.” I repeated the word slowly. “I’m being emotional because I expected fidelity from my boyfriend. How unreasonable of me.”
He nodded, like I was finally starting to understand. Like he was glad I could see how unreasonable I was being.
“In your world, maybe fidelity matters. In mine, it’s different. The club provides for its members’ needs. That includes the women. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means something to me!” My voice cracked on the words. “It means everything to me!” I turned back to the dresser and started pulling out more of my things. A lacy bra he’d bought me-into the box. Tank tops I’d stolen from him that had become mine-into the box. My fingers found the delicate necklace he’d given me for my birthday, still warm against my throat. Without thinking, I ripped it off and hurled it at him.
“Keep your guilt gift,” I snapped.
The necklace bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor. “Indira, stop. You’re being irrational.”
“Irrational?” I whirled around, and something must have shown in my face because he actually took a step back. “You want to see irrational?”
I grabbed the framed photo from his nightstand—the two of us at a charity ride last month, both smiling, his arm around my waist—and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered, scattering across the hardwood floor.
“Feel better?” Dutch asked dryly.
“Actually, yes.” I picked up the cologne bottle from his dresser and smashed it against the wall, too. The expensive scent filled the air, cloying and overwhelming. “Much better.”
“That’s enough.” He moved toward me, but I grabbed a heavy motorcycle magazine from the nightstand and threw it at his head. He ducked, and it hit the wall behind him.
“Indira, knock it off.”
“No!” I was spiraling now, the complete destruction of everything I’d believed about us pouring out of me. “You don’t get to tell me to knock it off! You don’t get to fuck other women and then act like I’m the problem for being upset about it!” I reached for his alarm clock, but he caught my wrist before I could throw it.
“Enough.” His grip was firm but not painful. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Let go of me.” I tried to yank free, but he held on.
“Not until you calm down.”
“Stop telling me to calm down!” I shoved at his chest with my free hand. “Stop acting like this is my fault! Stop acting like I’m the crazy one for having normal human emotions!”
He caught my other hand and held both my wrists, effectively pinning me in place. “Baby, just breathe. You’re working yourself up over nothing.”
“Nothing?” The word came out as a broken sob. “This is nothing to you?”
