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“It’s an opportunity for you! I’ll be at the back of a tour bus or hidden away on the corner of the stage. That doesn’t sound like the idyllic vacation to me.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” he mumbles.

Red fills my vision. It’s the only color I’m capable of seeing recently.

“Me?” I point at my chest. “You’ve given me no say in the matter, Tate. You sprung this on me with no warning, no consideration of how I’d feel about packing up my life and traveling the country for two years. What about my job?”

He makes a face like the answer is obvious. “You can work anywhere. We’ve discussed this. Plus, Eric said he’d have no issue with you going on sabbatical.”

My arms fall to my side. “You spoke to my boss about this?”

“Yes, because you’re being stubborn. You don’t even need to work anymore. I have everything covered.” Regret riddles his features the moment the words leave his mouth.

I’m silent, struggling to wrap my head around this shit show. Last week he informed me he’d paid off my student loans for law school. At first, I was grateful—one last thing to worry about—but now I recognize his ulterior motive. Without the debts, and with his cushy new income, I don’t have to work.

Tate panics, rounding the table. He reaches for me, but then thinks better.

The recoil in his actions speaks a thousand words.

Never once have we second-guessed the way we touch each other. Touching is our love language. Hand-holding, light caresses on the arm or hip when passing, a swat on the ass.

Three taps on the nose.

We’ve barely touched since the morning after the premiere.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes out. “I want to give you options.”

“It doesn’t feel like you’re giving me options. It feels like I’m being backed into a corner. I love my job. The firm. My colleagues. I’m not abandoning all the hard work I’ve put in over the years.”

He glowers at the floor—at where there’s too much space and vitriol. Two feet feels like a hundred. What will it feel like when he’s hundreds of miles away?

“That isn’t fair.” I can taste the bitterness in his tone. It’s so unfamiliar, as if I’m speaking to a stranger. “We came here for you. For your school and your career. What about me?”

My head snaps back. “So you regret following me here for school, is that it?”

“You’re putting words into my mouth.”

“I’m reading between the lines.” I raise my palms to the ceiling as if in prayer. “If I ever thought for a second this life wasn’t what you wanted, I would’ve supported you. We’re supposed to be partners, but right now you’re treating me like an afterthought. You’re about to go on tour and leave me for six months. You have signed the next two years of your life away. When are we ever going to see each other?” I gasp for air, clutching at my chest to stop the pounding ache behind my rib cage. “I’ve never once held you back. Not once, Tate. My dreams aren’t more important than yours, but you cannot expect me to put my life on hold. You should’ve discussed this with me before making a huge, life-altering decision.”

The couch shifts across the floor as Tate drops all his weight onto the cushions. His shoulders curl in on themselves as he drags a palm over his face. Dirty-blond locks fall over his brow as he peers up at me. “What are you saying?”

I can feel it, part of my soul shredding, my heart tearing in two. The walls close in, shrinking the huge living room. “I’m not stopping you.” My lip wobbles and I clamp down on it, biting at the skin until copper fills my mouth. “If you want to go, go.”

He swallows. “You’re not coming with me.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m not.”

“So that’s it, huh?” He slaps his palms against his thighs in defeat. “Whatever you say goes?”

I don’t recognize the man in front of me.

I don’t recognize myself.

I don’t recognize the couple we’ve turned into.

“My opinion doesn’t matter at all, or you wouldn’t have put us in this situation to begin with.” I curl my arms around my middle as my stomach knots. “If this is the life you want, with the fame and fans and rumors spreading over the internet, that’s fine. But it isn’t for me. I couldn’t even handle one night without them tearing me to pieces. If you’d given me time to warm up to the idea, time to plan, things might be different.”

His phone rings on the coffee table.