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I narrow my eyes and ball my hands into fists. “Come to dig the knife in further?”
“You know it has nothing to do with you,” Tristan replies evenly. “You would’ve kicked my ass later if I’d let you into the house in that mood.”
“You’re not my fucking shrink.”
“Thank God for that.” Tristan inches closer, a look of apprehension on his face. “Look, you can beat the shit out of me if you want. That’s fine. But I’m your cousin, and I care about Isabella, too. She’s actually growing on me, and I think some space will do you good.”
I scowl. “Everyone is a fucking shrink in this family all of a sudden. Why does everyone think that they have the right to interfere in my relationship?”
Tristan stops a few feet away. “It’s not interfering. It’s helping.”
I bare my teeth at Tristan. “And if I told you to back the fuck off?”
Tristan holds my gaze and squares his shoulders. “I don’t think you mean that.”
I call my cousin something unflattering under my breath.
He doesn’t respond as I take a few steps back and go into the kitchen. After pouring myself a drink, I hand Tristan one and go back upstairs. At the top of the stairs, I hear his footsteps come up after me. In our room, I fling the closet open and rummage through it.
When I spin around, Tristan is eyeing me over the rim of his glass, his eyebrows knitted together.
I carry a handful of clothes and dump them on the bed. Then I get down on my knees to take out a bag. After unzipping it, I begin to throw in some things at random. I feel the weight of Tristan’s gaze on me the entire time, but he doesn’t say anything. Until I’ve thrown in enough clothes and start zipping up the bag.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Until I can figure out how to manage both, I need to leave.” I set the bag down on the floor and stand up straighter. “I’m trying to fucking listen.”
“Manage both?”
“Being a fiancé and remaining the head of the Blackthorne empire. I need to figure this out before the baby comes.” I wheel the bag behind me and hoist it up when I reach the stairs.
In the living room, Anita comes out, and her eyes widen when she takes in the scene. “What did you do?”
“I haven’t done anything.” Tristan throws both hands up and gives me a bewildered look. “We were just talking when he started packing.”
I exhale. “You both told me that Isabella needs space. I’m giving her exactly that, and now you’re fucking upset. Make up your damn minds.”
Anita lurches into action. “Carter, giving her space doesn’t mean you have to leave. You can still stay here, and she can stay with Sam and Tristan.”
I shake Anita’s hand off. “I can’t stay here without her. I can’t stay in that fucking room one more minute, and I can’t stay across from her, not without doing something stupid.”
Something that could cause me to damage my relationship with Isabella for good.
I don’t have the answers or a magical solution. And until I do, I need to get away, at least for a little while.
Anita places a hand on my shoulders and waits for me to look at her. “Are you sure about this?”
I nod. “I have to do something.”
With a sigh, she withdraws her hand and steps back. In silence, Tristan helps me carry the bag outside. We wait on the sidewalk while I peer into the distance, waiting for Ernesto’s familiar black SUV. In the distance, it shimmers with the heat from the sun, and my stomach twists as it approaches.
Tristan tilts his head in the direction of my house. “Aren’t you going to talk to her?”
I shake my head. “If I tell her, I won’t be able to leave.”
Tristan runs a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to tell her? She’s going to think you abandoned her.”
Ernesto pulls up next to the curb, and I hoist the bag up and into the back. He and Tristan exchange a quick look before Ernesto slams the door shut and gets back in the car. I shove one hand into my pocket and glance over at the house. There’s a slight rustling behind the curtain downstairs, but I can’t make out anything.
