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“Have you been drinking?”
“Yes, I’m a college senior. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”
He’s drunk. Or very close to it. “I want to talk to you, I do, but I don’t think we should have this conversation tonight.”
“If you think he’s a good guy, I guess, introduce him. Fuck,” he says, standing and holding out the keys.
“Troy,” I sigh. “That man will never meet our son. And what’s this?”
“Your new SUV,” he says, clicking the FOB. “I sold my truck.”
“You what?”
“It’s paid for. The title is in your glove compartment.”
“You sold your truck?”
He shrugs. “You needed something reliable.”
“But you loved that truck.”
“Theo got me a good deal,” he says, ignoring my protest. “There was a mix up at the dealership, and it was supposed to be delivered yesterday, but it was dropped off tonight.”
I hold the keys out to him. “Just another thing to add to your paper trail, huh? No, thanks. I don’t want it.”
“Clarissa, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. You’ll never know how much, but I’m not about to give you another reason to—”
His hand shoots out gripping mine before pressing the keys into it. “You will take it. Your SUV is shot.”
“I’m not giving you more ammunition against me.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he says hoarsely. “You know I didn’t. I would never hurt you that way. I was pissed…just…please take it. I don’t want you driving around in that piece of shit anymore. Trust me, it’s more for me than for you.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I don’t know which move damns me with you.”
“Take it,” he says, shoving his hands in his jeans. “It would be a weight off my shoulders.”
“Okay…t-thank you.” The wind kicks up, and his scent hits me. It’s comforting, while at the same time tearing me apart.
“It’s used. I’ll get you something better when I sign a contract.”
“I don’t want your fucking money,” I sniff, batting a tear away.
“Trust me,” he says in a cool tone. “I know.”
“Damn it, Troy. What I did, it was never about you, it was about me and my peace of mind. About my own ability to support myself and our son, no matter what relationship I’m in.”
“Let’s not do this,” he says. “Let’s just not.”
“Fine.” I look him over, the ache to touch him unbearable as he stands looking gorgeous in a thin blue V-neck and dark jeans.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine. I’ll find something.”
“Good to hear, but that’s not what I was asking.”
