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"I know."

"It just didn't help."

"She definitely picked a shitty night to show up with mistletoe."

She softly laughs, then immediately points at me. "We're still fighting."

"I know."

She tilts her head. "Stop looking so pleased with yourself."

"It slipped out," I claim.

Her eyes roll. For half a second, everything almost settles. Then she says, "I'm still going back to the Butterfly House."

The knot returns in my stomach.

"Lainey—"

"No. We aren't starting this over."

"I'm trying to understand."

"Then listen to what I'm saying," she demands.

"I am listening."

"No, you're waiting for me to give you the answer you want."

"That's not true."

"It is."

I take my hat off and rake my fingers through my hair before putting it back on. "Okay. Then explain it to me."

"I already did."

"No. You gave me reasons. Your mom. Moving too fast. Independence. Charlie. Now, you need to know me better."

"Those are reasons."

"They sound like excuses."

Her eyes flash.

Fuck.

Wrong word.

Again.

Her eyes darken. "Excuses?"

"I'm not saying they aren't valid."

"That's exactly what calling them excuses means."

"I'm saying, every time I think we're getting closer to you and Charlie staying with me, there's another reason it can't happen," I assert.