Page 153 of Beast Mode

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I frowned slightly.

“You’ve worked your ass off your entire life,” she continued. “You’ve survived things alone. That independence matters to you.”

“It does,” I agreed.

“If you let a man become the solution to every problem, even a good man, you lose negotiating power,” Robins said.

“Yes!” I looked at her like she was a lifeline. “I was trying to explain that to him, but he just didn’t get it.”

Mel leaned forward. “He loves you.”

The table went still.

My throat tightened. “He hasn’t said that,” I muttered.

“He doesn’t have to,” Mel said bluntly. “The man looks at you like you invented oxygen.”

Zella smirked. “Facts.”

Robin held up a hand. “That’s not the issue.”

“It kind of is,” Mel shot back.

“No, the issue is control,” Robin said. “Is he offering because he loves you? Or because he needs to control the environment to feel safe?”

I stared down at my drink.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“And what do you want?” Sonia asked softly.

I exhaled slowly. “I want him,” I said.

There it was. Plain and honest.

Mel squeezed my hand. “Then you need to figure out if he wants you,” she said, “or if he wants to manage you.”

Zella leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Are you falling in love with him?”

The question landed like a stone dropped into still water. No one laughed. No one teased. They just waited.

I swallowed. “I think,” I said slowly, “ . . . I don’t know.”

Silence wrapped around us. I did know, I just wasn’t ready to admit it.

“Then don’t let money be the reason you stay,” Robin said quietly. “And don’t let fear be the reason you leave.”

I nodded. Because that was the real tightrope, making sure whatever I chose was mine

The drive back felt longer than usual.

The roads were mostly empty, streetlights casting pale gold across the windshield in rhythmic intervals. My music played low, something soft and forgettable, but I barely heard it.

It was time. I knew it was time.

We couldn’t keep dancing around it. Couldn’t keep pretending that this was still just insurance, cooking, and six months on paper.

But what if I brought it up and he didn’t say what I wanted him to say?