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I’m a fool for thinking it could be anything else.
With a calmness I don’t feel, I place the cupcake into the box and flip the lid before placing it safely on the counter. I turn to face him.
“You’re off the hook, Cash. I should’ve used the donor in the first place.”
His eyes narrow at me, and anger swells in my chest at the audacity he has for getting angry at all.
“Is that how you really feel?” His words are more of a growl than actual speech, and I hate the way it reminds me of the barked commands he’d use in the bedroom.
“I don’t need this right now,” I tell him. “Is this all you need?”
He doesn’t bother to even look at the box of cupcakes when I point to them. He’s too busy glaring at me.
“I’m not going to continue being dismissed by you, Ads.”
“I’m not going to be treated poorly in my own business,” I counter, hating the way my chin quivers.
“I’m not treating you poorly. I did you a favor. Do you realize how much money I saved you?”
“That’s a little egotistical don’t you think? The donor sperm—”
“Was mine!”
My head snaps back in confusion. “What?”
“I’m donor sixty-four ninety-two, Adalynn.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s not. I donated in college.”
“No. Why would you do that?”
“Money, Adalynn. Not everyone got money sent to them every week. Some of us had to learn to survive without the help of others.”
There’s an unfamiliar bitterness in his tone, but it falls so easily from his lips, it makes me wonder how often he has thought one thing but said something different. It’s almost as if he’s criticizing me for the comforts my family provided, as if he sees me as some kind of spoiled brat.
“You lied to me,” I say, the words weak on my lips. “I asked you flat out if you were that donor.”
His eyes dart away, but even if he’s feeling ashamed for it, the damage is already done.
I ring up his cupcakes, telling him his total. The man pays despite never having paid for a single cupcake I’ve ever made. I give the locals a discount, but family gets what they want for free.
The charge as well as him paying makes a statement. It draws an uncrossable line in the sand, one I never thought would exist between the two of us.
His eyes search mine when he lifts the box off the counter, but the bell above the door chimes, interrupting whatever he was planning to say.
“Do you want me to take your care package?” he asks instead. I know that’s not what he was originally going to ask.
“Wouldn’t want you to go out of your way for me,” I say, my nose burning with unshed tears.
Instead of arguing or looking upset, he simply nods before turning around and leaving the shop.
“Am I interrupting something?”
I shake my head, but a tear still rolls down my cheek. I dash it away with the back of my hand, giving Claire the best smile I can manage at a time that feels like my entire world is imploding.
Cash and I have had arguments in the past, but he’s never walked away as angry as he is right now and not spin right back around and concede in some way. Maybe that’s a “me” problem. Maybe I’m not bending enough for him.
