Page 25 of Golden Ruin

“Wow,” she practically whispers.

I take a breath, deciding to let her process this however she needs to process, so we don’t have to do this again.

“Did you think this through at all? Did it ever cross your mind that this might be an issue for me?” she scoffs. “Look, I get that she needs somewhere to stay. Trust me, I’m not being insensitive to that. But she could’ve literally stayed anywhere else. The loft, the penthouse, your mom’s place for fuck’s sake. But you brought her into our home?”

There goes that fucking phrase again.

My jaw tenses.

These past four months, she made it a point to feed me this bullshit about how she picked up and left to gain perspective on our relationship. But she stayed gone because opportunity knocked, and she answered.

Turns out it’s much easier to land lifestyle brand deals and paid appearances when you’re only a few hours drive from the Miami nightlife. I get it, but I never stood in the way of her doing any of that. Because only one of us thought she had to leave permanently for her to pursue her dream. Whether she needed time away to travel, needed me to make an introduction to someone with connections, needed to leverage my visibility, I did all that shit.

For her.

Because I loved her.

Loved… past tense.

I feel it deep in my gut when I make the slip and, thank God, it was only inside my head and not out loud.

“Un-fucking-believable,” she hisses when I don’t respond. “And you seriously don’t see anything wrong with this?”

I clench my fists, trying not to let anger win when she raises her voice.

“You mean do I see something wrong with letting my son and his mother catch their fucking breath after a tragedy? No. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Because you’re blind,” she bites out. “Lexi’s still in love with you. I mean, didn’t you think it was weird when she asked to stay with you? Didn’t–”

“Stop! Just… stop.” I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep my cool.

I didn’t want it to go this way.

“She didn’t ask to stay here. I invited her,” I clarify. “And you keep calling this our home, but this is my fucking home, Tiffany! Because I stayed. I was here to fight this out with you, but you chose something else, remember? You did that.”

She’s silent, and I regret yelling. I could’ve woken Jax, could’ve startled Lexi, but I just… I’m done.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I hear the words leave my mouth, but don’t quite believe I said them for several seconds. Apparently, Tiffany can’t either, because she’s completely silent, too.

I feel relieved and burdened all at the same time. Like, I’m certain I just did the right thing, but I’m also aware that this means I failed again.

Miserably.

“You don’t mean that,” she says, but I’m already nodding.

“No, I do. And I should’ve said it months ago.”

There’s silence on the line for a few seconds before her voice returns.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she hisses. “What the hell do you want from me? I’m sorry I’m not built to play Susie-fucking-Homemaker, cooking and cleaning while you go forth and conquer the world. I have dreams and goals, too!”

Her words hit me square in my chest, and I realize something crucial in this moment. That if this is what she thinks I want, if she’s somehow convinced herself that I need her to wither to make me feel important… she doesn’t know me.

Not even a little.

“I didn’t ask for that. I’d never ask you for that.”