Everything inside me recoiled. He didn’t love me; he loved the image, the narrative, the way I looked sitting beside him at dinners. Over the years, he made no qualms about making sure people knew he’d been the one to sophisticate me. I could perform well enough in situations where his parents were pleased and overlooked my ranch upbringing, but it was made well known that I wasn’t good enough.
“Say something,” he said. “You’re freaking me out.”
“You should put that away,” I told him.
His brows snapped together. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” I said as I shook my head, and the silence stretched, sticky and hot.
“You’re serious,” he said slowly. “You’re actually serious.”
“Yes.”
He blinked as if trying to force the world back into the shape he preferred. “We’ve been together for years,” he said. “This is what people do. You have a stable job. I’m moving up at the firm. My parents adore you; you belong here. This is the next step.”
“Off and on for years,” I said. “Mostly off. Your parents barely tolerate me, and we both know I don’t belong here; this isn’t the life I want.”
He flinched. The word landed like a slap. “But it was real,” he insisted. “We’ve put in the time. We’ve built something. You’re part of this family.” From inside the house, his mother’s laugh floated out, polished and fake.
“It wasn’t what you think it was,” I said. He never knew about the mumbled comments at parties or the meetings I had with his mother, that she pretended were just a girl’s lunch. In reality, they were subtle threats about behaviour over a too-expensive salad with water chestnuts. All the moments I hadn’t been enough flashed through my head.
“I’m not marrying you, Colin.”
For a moment, wounded shock flickered across his face. It looked almost genuine, but only almost. Then it vanished beneath something colder as he slid his mask back into place.
“You don’t mean that,” he said.
“I do,” I whispered.
He shook his head in tight, jerky movements. “No. You’re tired. You’re overworked. You’re stressed about money. Your judgement is?—”
“My judgment is fine.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. How much have you had to drink tonight?” The words were snapped out. Always a projection because when Colin was drinking, I didn’t. He wasn’t predictable, and one of us needed to be fully capable of functioning.
“I haven’t had anything to drink, and I do mean this, Colin.” I looked down at the ground and hoped this would be enough for him to leave me alone on the porch.
He stepped toward me, each stride slow and deliberate, like he expected proximity to change my answer. The porchlight cast shallow shadows across his face. Sweat glistened above his lip.
“I’ve been here. I’ve been patient and given you space when you asked for it. I’ve put up with your crazy schedule and your late shifts. Do you know what it does to a man when you aren’t there for his needs?” His voice rose, and he tamped it back down.
Oh, I knew, I knew full well what it did for him. He’d cheat, we’d break up, and he’d always come crawling back, and like an idiot, I let him back in.
“I never asked you to do any of that. Especially the cheating,” I added quickly.
His jaw twitched. “You owe me,” he growled.
“I don’t owe you anything.” The silence that followed hit like a lid slamming shut. Something cracked across his expression. A subtle fracture, but enough to let something hard leak through.
“You’re being irrational. You always do this when you’re overwhelmed. You push people away and shut down. I know you’ll regret this, Tessa.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I won’t.”
He stepped closer again, closing the last inches between us until his breath brushed my cheek. He smelled like aftershave and wine and something stale beneath both. His free hand lifted, hovering near my shoulder, fingers flexing.
“I’ve been the one who shows up,” he said firmly. “Not your cowboy fantasies. Not whatever daydreams you chase. Me. I’m the one who gives you stability.”
“I don’t have any fantasies, Colin. I do know that I deserve better than what’s in front of me.”
