"I get it."
But her tone says she doesn't really get it.
"Come on, don't be like that."
"I'm not being like anything. I said that I understand."
"You're upset."
"I'm not upset.” She stands up. "I invited you to meet my dad and to spend the holiday with my family, and you'd rather go party in Miami with your friends."
"It's not about partying."
"Isn't it? Beach house. Bars.”
I’m not sure what to say.
She crosses her arms. "Look, it's fine. Go to Miami. Have fun. I'll see my dad. You deserve to let loose. I’m going to shower."
"You're pissed."
"I'm not pissed."
"You're definitely pissed."
“I’m not pissed. Yes, it was a surprise, but I’m not mad. I want you to have fun. I’d love for you to have fun with me, but I get it. Sitting around an old house with my old man isn’t anyone’s idea of fun.”
"I'm choosing not to sit at home and spiral about my father for five days."
“If you’re with me, you’re not alone.”
"I can't do that right now, Sutton. I just need to—exist. Without expectations."
She nods.
"Okay," she finally says. "Go to Miami. Blow off steam. I hope it helps."
The words are right, but the tone is wrong. She's hurt. I hurt her.
"Come here." I reach for her hand.
“I need to shower. I stink.”
I get off the bed and go to her.
"I'm not trying to blow you off," I say. "I'm not choosing the guys over you. I just need a break from heavy shit. From decisions and family drama and all of it."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you seem upset."
"I'm fine, Declan. Really." She leans against me. "Go to Miami. Have fun. We'll do Thanksgiving together next year."
Next year. The words hang in the air like a promise neither of us is sure we can keep.
"You sure you're okay with this?"
"I'm sure." She tilts her head up to kiss me. "I trust you."
