Page 24 of Golden Ruin

“Thanks,” is the only response I have as I stare at the railing, wishing this call was over.

“When do you fly out to shoot the commercial?”

I pause and sort through the mental clutter but can’t remember the exact date. “Soon, I think.”

“Nice. You know this means other major brands are about to start blowing you up, right? You’re already killing it, but this? This is next-level.”

Again, this would’ve been a much bigger deal under different circumstances, but tonight, I’m already tired of talking about it.

“Yeah. Probably.”

When I finish speaking, I can practically see Tiffany’s face, the look of disbelief as she processes that I’m not matching her enthusiasm. She’s quiet, and I’m guessing she feels that same awkward tension between us that, lately, never seems to go away.

“Listen, there’s something you should–”

“We’ve been saying we–”

I stop when we speak at the same time, and she does, too.

“You first,” I say, knowing what I need to let out will probably be the end of our conversation altogether.

“I was just going to suggest that… maybe it’s time we have that talk now.”

I nod again. “I was thinking the same thing.”

She takes another breath into the phone. “I miss us,” she says. “I look down at this ring on my finger, and it makes me sad to think how far we’ve fallen. I just keep thinking that… if we hadn’t left Florida, maybe–”

“Cypress Pointe was never our problem, Tiff.”

There’s a loaded silence that creeps in as my words hang in the air.

“I mean, yeah, moving here definitely amplified our issues, but that was never the cause of them. There were signs long before we got here.”

I sit with that for a moment after it’s out in the open, admitting for the first time how long this has felt wrong. I guess I held on because I didn’t want to start over again, didn’t want to face what having another failed relationship under my belt might suggest about me.

I push the past aside though. It’s already taking everything in me to deal with the present. Especially as I’m starting to realize that stringing Tiffany along when I know something isn’t right might be just as bad as ending it.

“On second thought, maybe talking about this over the phone is a mistake,” she says softly, sounding as drained and exasperated as I feel. “It’s been a rough couple days. I can rearrange my schedule to come home, and–”

“Tiffany, no.”

I don’t mean to say it so quickly, don’t mean for it to sound so final, but rage is burning inside my chest. Because what fucking right does she have to use that word?

Home.

The home she never moved into? The one that’s only in my name because she couldn’t be bothered to make it back for the closing?

“No?” she says softly, like she’s confused, but my head’s never been clearer.

“You can’t come here.” I say it firmly. Not to hurt her, but to make sure she gets it.

“Sterling, I–”

“They’re staying with me, Tiff. Until Lexi finds a new place.”

The only sound coming through on her end is background noise, whatever music she’s listening to. I hate the way my heart pounds inside my chest, but this is the last conversation I wanted to have tonight.

She says my name softly, and I can imagine what she’s thinking, can imagine how she sees this playing out.