Page 103 of Shark’s Pride

“Sure, Bas. Whatever you want. That’s how you’re used to everything going, right? How you say, when you say. Right?”

Somehow, we made it through the rest of the reception playacting as the city’s new “it” lovebirds. The crowd thinned fast, and Abbigail plastered on an authentic smile for them. As we did a few laps through the crowd, I was quickly swept back up in the mood I’d meant to have today. I was both exhausted and exhilarated all over again.

My woman, on the other hand, was still spoiling for a fight.

Silence draped the first five minutes of our drive back home. Then ten. Fifteen. She sat as physically far away from me as the town car would allow.

I finally sighed, deciding to put my billions where my mouth was. For the first time in my life, I was actually going to attempt some small talk. A desperate measure, but this was fast developing into a desperate time. I hoped I could soften her up enough to open her up.

“The food was fantastic today. Thank you for all your hard work, beautiful.”

She pushed out soft air through her nose. “Well, thank you for paying Abstract so well for it.”

“That’s not where I was going—”

“I was just doing what you paid me for, Mr. Shark. A clear-cut transaction.”

I groaned.

She huffed.

“Can we just stop all this? Please?” My vocal cords fought my brain to push out the nicer portion of it, but for naught. At the last second, a gritted growl took over me. “Before you say something you’ll regret.”

Abbigail angled her body enough to lean an elbow on the windowsill and then rest her head on a small steeple of her fingers. “And what is ‘this,’ exactly?”

“This,” I spewed. “You know what it is, damn it. This…this bitterness. I was giving you a genuine compliment. Why are you being so testy in return?”

“This isn’t testy, Sebastian. This is me, unable to do the hot-and-cold thing with you, okay?” She shoved away from the door but not by far. She was only leaning the distance it took to make sure I got her point—and was ready to listen to the rest. “I’m not wired that way.”

I scowled. “I’m not asking you to rewire yours—”

“Bullshit,” she retorted. “One minute I’m your girlfriend, the woman you’re smitten with like Romeo about to leap up to the balcony. But the next, you’re shutting me out completely, telling me how your rules are now law, without room for appeals in the courtroom. I’m getting whiplash here, and my heart—” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and strangled in her throat. “My heart is too invested in this”—she motioned between us—“to be treated that way. If that’s a normal thing with you, then it’d be a great idea to inform me now. I have to decide if I can handle it, or if—”

“What?” I gripped the back of the seat, using the hold to surge toward her. Not a velociraptor lunge but enough movement to tell her I wasn’t being merely suave and casual. “Or if what, Abbigail?” I demanded again.

“If…I need to bail out now,” she finally spurted and tacked on a proud lift of her chin that unraveled my goddamned soul. “Before I’m completely devastated from having to do so later.”

Later?

Because she thought that if she did it now, we’d both be just fine with it?

And this pathetic attempt at sarcasm, even unvoiced, wasn’t helping my cause. She didn’t need that right now. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure what she did need. I was in an emotional wilderness with no damn compass.

I had to just take a stab. Follow my gut. Hope for the best.

“Well, I guess that’s something only you can decide,” I said quietly.

Pray I was halfway close to the target. Whatever the hell that was.

“What are you saying?”

Though by the looks of her startled jerk and Bambi-stunned eyes, all I’d drawn here was more blood. But I had to keep going. Had to keep working at this. Had to keep trying.

“I’m saying…only you can decide if what we have together, or what we’re trying to build together, is worth fighting for.” I edged out on a psychological limb, curling my fingers down from the top of the seat. As gently as I could, I stroked them over the curve of her cheek. “That it’s worth feeling some pain for, Abbi.”

Our stares entwined, and I treasured the schism of trust I still saw in the deep facets of her emerald irises. If we still had trust, even a little, then we had hope.

“You already know that life isn’t always easy, Red,” I went on. “Sometimes you have to go through some tough shit to get to the good stuff. But only you can decide if our ‘good stuff’ is ultimately worth it.”