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She treats it like a hotel, never fully unpacking or getting comfortable. There’s none of her quaint touches or subtle splashes of color I came to know when we lived in the apartment.

It also serves as a huge reminder of what a materialistic idiot I turned into.

I’m not about to go and buy her a house that I think suits her—I’ve learned my lesson with grand gestures. It’s a conversation to have down the line.

“I want you to let me pay for some utilities. You left me all that money, and on top of my salary from the firm, I don’t know what to do with it all.”

I’ve avoided the topic of her parents since kicking them out of the house last night, but I need to address the elephant in the room. “I can see where you spend the money in the joint account, you know? Or who you send money to.”

Her fork hangs limply from her hand, and shame—the last emotion I want to put on her face—pulls at her brows.

I abandon my salad, pushing the bowl aside and rounding the kitchen counter to stand in front of her. “I don’t care how you spend the money. Buy a yacht. Buy ten—twenty puppies. But I just want to know why you sent them money?”

“It’s going to make me sound like a hypocrite for all the grief I gave you.” She pushes away her bowl. “All my life, they reminded me what a burden I was. If the bills weren’t paid or we couldn’t afford groceries, it was my fault. Then suddenly, I had this disposable income, and when they turned to me for help, I could give it to them. They’re my parents, as cruel and loveless as they are, and I thought it was a way to keep the peace. But I think…” She goes to look away, but I catch her chin, urging her on. “I think I was trying to buy the love they never showed me growing up.”

Her honesty strikes me in the chest.

“I shouldn’t have waited until last night to stand up to them.”

“You were doing what I asked.”

“Yes, and a load of good that’s done.” I don’t mean to appear bitter. “They don’t deserve your love, Tally Girl, you hear me? A parent is supposed to love their child no matter what. I won’t stop you from sending them money if they need help and if you change your mind about having a relationship with them⁠—”

“I won’t change my mind. After last night, I’m done. They’ve always mistreated me, but to speak about you and your mom that way is unforgivable. I want nothing to do with them.”

She blooms when I press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll support you, whatever you decide.” I glance at the clock. It’s almost time for her to get back to work. “You know, I might pay Jimmy a visit today, see if he can keep a spot clear for me next year or knows of any work going. If it comes down to it, I’ll sell pictures of my feet online.”

Talia’s smile is the brightest and clearest I’ve seen it as she breaks into a fit of laughter.

It’s the wrinkles around her eyes and lines framing her lips that will make the next year manageable, because it’s the smile I’ll be waking up to, day after day, for the rest of my life.

I nudge her bowl back across the counter. “Eat up.”

We finish our salads in silence, and I stand first, heading for the door. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

I make it two steps before she stops me. “Do you remember what I said in the text?”

Slowly, I turn to look at her over my shoulder. “That when I’m ready, I could come home.”

I hold my breath as she approaches, and I close my eyes as delicate fingers twist into the hair at my nape. “The sentiment still stands to this day, and it’ll be there next summer. I’ll be here next summer waiting for you to come home.”

Relief barrels into me. I grasp her cheeks, the bridges of our noses brushing. “Do you promise?”

Her lips graze mine when she nods. “For better, for worse, and I think we’ve been through the worst of it.”

FORTY-THREE

TALIA

ONE YEAR AGO–JULY

“You’re not getting it.” I press the tips of my fingers to my eyelids, trying to keep my voice level as Tate stands across from me. We reached a stalemate well over an hour ago.

We’re exhausted, dizzy from the circles we’re going around in, and no closer to finding a solution to this problem.

The movie premiere added fuel to the already incinerating fire.

“What is there to get?” The coffee table separates us. Tate paces on the other side, fingers raking through his hair. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us.”