He glances down the hallway again, his fight-or-flight response clearly tilting toward flight. “Can we please discuss this in private?”
“Fine.” I gesture to his bedroom door. “After you.”
“Not my room,” he says quickly. “Mother checks—”
“Oh my God,” I cut him off, disgust rising like bile. “You’re thirty years old, Skyler. Thirty. And you’re worried about your mommy checking if I’m in your bedroom? We’re engaged.”
His shoulders slump slightly. “It’s not that simple.”
“You keep saying that, but here’s what’s simple: Amanda. Your parents want her back in the picture, and you’re doing nothing to stop it.”
A flash of guilt crosses his face.
I feel my stomach drop. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The silence stretches between us, elastic and dangerous.
“Skyler?”
He shifts his weight, avoiding my eyes. “I may have recently messaged her.”
The hallway tilts slightly. I steady myself against the wall, the expensive wallpaper rough under my fingertips. “You what?”
“It wasn’t like that,” he says quickly. “It was harmless.”
“Harmless.” The word tastes sour. “And you didn’t think to mention this to me because . . . ?”
“It didn’t seem important.”
“Your secret conversations with your ex-fiancée—the woman your parents are still clearly hoping you’ll end up with—didn’t seem important?” My voice rises despite my efforts to control it. “The woman they just invited to a family function at dinner?”
Skyler reaches for me, but I step back. “It wasn’t like that, Harley. I was trying to understand.”
“Understand what?”
He hesitates, then continues in a quieter voice, “The struggles she went through during our engagement. The pressure from my parents. I thought maybe it would help me navigate our situation better.”
The absurdity of his explanation hits me like a physical blow. “Are you kidding me? You’re trying to understand her struggles from three years ago while completely ignoring what your current fiancée is going through right now, right in front of you?”
His expression shifts to defensive frustration. “That’s not fair. I’m doing my best to balance everything—”
“Balance?” I laugh, the sound sharp and humorless. “Is that what you call sitting silently while your parents worship your ex and insult me to my face? Is that what you call secretly messaging her behind my back?”
“I wasn’t—”
“What exactly did you ask her, Skyler? How did she handle your mother’s passive-aggressive comments about her clothes? How did she smile through your father’s dismissal of her career? Or did you two skip right to reminiscing about the good old days, spending summers at the lake house when you were engaged to someone your family actually approved of?”
Skyler’s face flushes. “You’re twisting this into something it wasn’t.”
“Then what was it?” I step closer, anger propelling me forward. “Explain it to me. Help me understand why my fiancé is secretly communicating with his ex while failing to defend me at every turn.”
“I’m trying!” His voice rises to match mine. “I’m trying to navigate impossible expectations from all sides. My parents, you, my own sense of what’s right—”
“And how’s that working out for you? Because from where I’m standing, you’re failing spectacularly on all fronts.”
His shoulders slump. “What do you want from me, Harley?”
“I want you to choose!” My voice echoes in the hallway, too loud, too raw. “I want you to decide who matters more. Is it going to be me or your parents’ approval? I want you to stand up for us, for once in your life!”
