I sniffle. "Didn't you?"
"No. I said no fucking. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't set these boundaries. I'd take advantage of you."
"I-I don't understand," I admit.
He leans forward and kisses me.
I grip the back of his head and kiss him with everything I have.
He retreats but stays close, takes my hand and slides it between his legs, against his erection. He softly states, "If you think for one minute I'm not attracted to you and don't want you, you're wrong. But we can't have a healthy relationship if you're not healthy. So I'm putting you first. Does that clear it up?"
I blink more tears, nod, shake my head, then shrug. "I don't know. Kind of."
He picks up my non-wounded hand and kisses it. "It's because I love you. And trust is part of our problem, isn't it?"
I stare at our joined hands until the silence stretches thin enough to snap. The words I've been swallowing since yesterday claw their way up. My voice cracks on the name like it's glass in my throat. "Amy."
Red doesn't flinch. He sits and watches me.
I pull my hand free and wrap my arms around my knees again, spouting, "You never told me. Not once did you mention you hired a new girl who gets to sit at the front desk like she owns the place! You let me walk in with your stupid sandwich and see her with her polished, pretty, Southern drawl, calling you Dr. Mercer like you're hers! And I looked like an idiot. She knew nothing about me! I was just the desperate girlfriend who didn't even rate a heads-up."
His calm makes it worse, like I'm screaming into a void.
My laugh comes out bitter. "Were you testing how it felt to have someone efficient and uncomplicated around? Someone who doesn't show up bleeding and crying and making scenes? Someone you don't have to manage?"
Silence and tension continue to grow. Red's expression doesn't change.
"Say something," I snap.
"I'm listening."
Panic spikes sharp under my ribs. "You're not even going to tell me I'm wrong? That I'm crazy?"
He keeps his voice low and measured. "You're not crazy. You're scared."
I hate how right he is, so I lie, "I'm not scared. I'm pissed. You lied by omission. You let me believe I was the only woman in your orbit. And then there she was, and I felt—" My throat closes.
"You felt what, Blue?" he asks.
"Replaceable." Fresh tears well in my vision.
He exhales through his nose. "Amy is my assistant. That's the role and the relationship. She's not a woman in my life the way you are. She's an employee and nothing more."
The words should soothe. They don't. They land like ice water. "So why didn't you tell me about her?"
"I didn't think it was a big deal."
"Not a big deal? Seriously?"
"Apparently, I was wrong, but I didn't intend to keep it from you," he offers.
My voice rises. "Intent doesn't matter, Red. Impact does. And the impact was me feeling like I don't even register on your radar enough for a five-second text. 'Hired a new assistant today. Her name's Amy. See you tonight.' That's all it would've taken. Instead, I walked in blind and humiliated myself."
He doesn't look away. "You're right. I'm sorry."
I blink. "What?"
He affirms, "I should have told you. The moment I decided to hire someone new, I should have mentioned it. Not because you control my hiring decisions but because you're part of my life, and changes that affect my day-to-day affect you. I didn't think of it as relevant. That's on me."
