Page 151 of The Wright Man

"And how would you know?" I whispered. "When you've been on the other side of the world—"

"That's beside the fucking point, Ang!" His voice cracked, just once. He pointed toward the chapel. "That motherfucker's been clipping your wings since the day he met you. Rewriting your dreams and selling them back to you like favors."

He exhaled once. Looked at the floor. Like he was choosing whether to say the rest.

He looked back up.

"And you're fucking letting him."

Fourth brick.

I turned away. Tried to gather the scattered pieces of my composure. He didn't let up.

"Angelica, I love y—"

"Don't you dare." I spun back around, finger pointed at him, shaking, voice sharper than glass. "Don't you fucking dare. Not when you left me."

He winced. That landed.

"Don't do that," he said. "You know goddamn well I had to—"

"You did have to," I interrupted. My voice cracked. I didn't care. "I knew you had to choose yourself. I knew you were drowning. I never blamed you for that. Not even when you didn't give me the chance to choose with you."

He looked gutted. "I couldn't ask you to wait for me. That wasn't fair to you. I couldn't ask you to fix me—"

"That wasn't your fucking decision to make!"

Fifth brick. Gone.

"But you don't get to come back and judge me for choosing the man who stayed. The man who chose me back."

His lip curled. "You think this is him choosing you? This is him controlling you."

Sixth. The silence stretched long enough to become a third person in the room.

"Unbelievable..." My voice dropped when I finally spoke again. A whisper. A truth I hated. "You had a million chances." My eyes met his. "A million chances to say something. To do something. To kiss me, touch me, anything to stop this. And you didn't even try."

I stepped forward, my throat closing around the lump.

"If you wanted me, you should've said something before I bought the fucking dress."

And just like that, the wall came back up. Perfectly stacked. No weak spots.

He stared me down. Leaned in.

"I've wanted you since I was five years old."

The words didn't even knock on the wall. They climbed over and settled into my chest like they'd always belonged.

"Since before I could say it. Before your sisters saw it. Before your daddy figured it out. And way before that motherfucker out there gave a damn." His voice broke. "Yeah, I never said it. I didn't know how. But I showed you. Every day. For seventeen years."

He stepped back. Stood tall. Didn't wipe his tears.

"So if you want to throw all that away over four years of separation, be my guest. But don't pretend nobody ever wanted you."

He turned to the door. His hand on the knob.

"And don't you fucking tell me I didn't try."