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I kill the engine and watch her march up the front steps like a woman on a mission. Her arms swing, her ponytail bounces. Her fury is pretty impressive.

But I don’t follow right away. I sit in the driver’s seat, trying to work out what to do next. I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong and she won’t tell me. Maybe I’m supposed to guess like a kid in a pop quiz.

It’s as though I’m thirteen again, getting the silent treatment for missing some invisible expectation. The same way I did when I disappointed my parents.

When they were actually in the same country as me, that is.

I shove the car door open and get out, slamming it harder than I need to.

She’s already disappeared by the time I walk in, but I can hear her stalking around the kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets.

And she still hasn’t said a word.

When I reach the kitchen doorway, I lean against the jam, watching her fill a glass of water.

“If you’re trying to communicate solely through cupboard slamming, I rate it a solid six out of ten. Great rhythm, poor volume control.”

Nothing. Tough audience.

She takes a sip, slow and deliberate, like the water is the tastiest liquid she’s ever had slide across her tongue.

Jesus, she’s really good at the silent treatment.

But then she slowly turns around, her water glass clutched tight like it’s the only thing keeping her from hurling it at my head.

“You left me,” she says, voice low and tight.

I frown. “This morning? I didn’t want to wake you. It was early, your door was closed.”

“No note. No message. No explanation. Just…” She shakes her head. “Gone. Like I’m completely unimportant. Like I’m a stupid kitchen appliance.”

“I had meetings,” I say. “You knew I was working. Last night and today. I’m trying to build a resort here.”

She slams the glass down on the counter, not hard enough to break it, but close. “Don’t you dare gaslight me. I’m not mad because you have a job. I’m mad because you didn’t even think about me. You didn’t think about how I’d feel when I woke up and you were gone. Didn’t think that I might get bored staring at four walls like some kind of mail order bride.”

I open my mouth. Then close it again.

“I gave up everything to come here,” she continues, her voice rising. “Do you get that? My travels. My plans. Not to mention my damn morals. And you? You gave up nothing. You’re just getting what you want. As usual.”

“I didn’t force you to come here,” I say, quietly.

“No,” she snaps. “You just made it look like the only option. And you haven’t even had the decency to say a nice word once we got here. You treat me like an inconvenience.”

Her eyes are glassy, but her voice doesn’t waver.

“You promised me a job. And you hadn’t mentioned it until the bar. When you needed a reason for me to come with you. Didn’t even take me in for my first day. Or show me around the place. What is it you want from me, West? Just to sit here and look pretty? Like a Blow Up Wife without any of the damn benefits?”

“The benefits,” I repeat.

She gives me a dirty look. “It’s okay, don’t panic. I’m not expecting you to stride into the house and bend me over the kitchen counter like any other newlywed husband would.”

Okay, now that image has seared into my brain. I try to blink it away.

And fail.

“Careful,” I murmur. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you’re interested.”

Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out.