AllFreeNovel
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I release her. “To what?” I ask softly. “Figure her own life out after you spent too much of yours living for her?”
Tiff glances away, muscle in her jaw ticking, eyes slammed shut. “Yeah.”
“Do you see how fucked up that is?”
Those lids flash open. “I’m not the only one with a fucked-up situation,” she says, brows lifting pointedly as she glances around the space.
“You know what’s going down with Brit and I.”
“I know,” she says. “But Brit doesn’t.” She tilts her head to the side, pinning me in place with brown eyes that are nothing like the chocolate of my wife’s. “And are you planning on letting her know?”
“Tiff,” I warn.
“Because any idiot can see that she’s still in love with you.”
Fucking. Stubborn. Ass. Women.
“That’s not?—”
“The truth?” She shakes her head, ponytail flying behind her. “You’re delusional if you don’t think she would get back with you in a second.”
That lance strikes home again, piercingly painful. Probably because that has been the truth of it, what my inner asshole is clinging onto—that I can fix it. When it’s all over, I can fix it and make everything right with Brit.
But that’s also not what I saw on Brit’s face in the kitchen.
Determination. Stubbornness.
To move on from me.
And that has my stomach churning.
I scowl. “That’s not what we’re discussing?—”
“You’re right,” she says. “We weren’t.” A lift of one brow. “Now we are.”
Again. Fucking. Stubborn. Ass. Women.
“I’m watching the game,” I mutter, spinning toward the family room.
“We weren’t discussing it,” she says, ignoring me and taking my hand, squeezing firmly. “But I think, at some point, you’re going to have to talk about it with someone.”
How the fuck we went from me comforting her about her shitshow of a mother to her chastising me about Brit and well…other shit, I don’t know.
But I do know that I’m fucking tired of it all.
“Game’s on,” I say, pulling free.
“Stefan—”
I give her my back, start for the family room, for the TV and my ex-wife taking up the screen during a pregame interview.
More jabs.
More regrets.
More knowing that they don’t make one bit of difference.
“Stay and watch it with me,” I say icily. “Or just go home, yeah?”
