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“Are you really doing this right now? You’re going to twist this to lecture me?”
His eyes flare with warning as I widen mine. “Big Brother is watching, I know, Sean. I know.” I roll my eyes. “You’re so paranoid.”
He takes a long sip of beer and shakes his head ironically. “No, I’m cautious,” he declares softly. “And being arrogant will only get us caught.”
“You don’t think you’re being a little ridiculous?” I eye the book and lift it. “You don’t think this is a little farfetched?”
“It’s fiction, so sure, it’s farfetched,” he snaps, full of sarcasm as his jaw sets in a hard line. “No, in-depth or massive brainwashing of that magnitude could ever come to fruition in real life, right? Except for, you know, that minor incident we named The Holocaust where millions were executed at the hands of a fucking madman.”
“You know what I mean. This is Triple Falls, Sean, not Nazi-occupied Germany.”
“No, I don’t. And what’s ridiculous is that you need to see to believe.”
“Excuse me if I think the government has more important things to do than tap you.”
He gives me a dead stare. “Everyone is tapped. Everyone. Every single conversation on every fucking device is being recorded by the government, period. And maybe it would be ridiculous if I was Joe Schmo, and my only crime was recording a home porno with my wife’s best friend. Shit no one cares about, except for my wife. But you do know better.” He narrows his eyes. “Ever have a face to face discussion with someone just before seeing an ad for it in your newsfeed?”
I bite my cheek.
“Exactly. That should be all the proof that anyone with something to hide needs to see to think of technology as a threat. No one is safe. Our information is sold regularly for no other reason than our need for consumption. We’re all locusts at this point. But that’s only half of it. Our digital fingerprints include a lot more than what we buy, and what we’re being sold for, they are fucking markers. So, what’s ridiculous, Cecelia, is that you need to see it to believe it.”
“Whatever,” I bound off the counter. “Gotta admit, it’s the perfect excuse though, isn’t it? ‘I’m a secret agent man,’ yadda, yadda. Dinner is in the fridge. I’m going to bed.”
The coolness in his voice stops my retreat. “You’re being awfully fucking flippant about something that means a great deal to me and to Dom. This point, in particular, has been explained to you over and over in painstaking detail. And if you think I’m so fucking crazy, if you refuse so much to believe in what I do, why the hell are you sticking around?”
I swallow at the lividity in his tone. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…”
“You’re so quick to point out what a goddamned idiot you think I am. Do you know what happens if I’m right?” His voice shakes with anger. “Do you know what happens to caged birds?” I’ve never seen him so pissed, and I don’t congratulate myself for being granted the fight I’ve picked.
Nerves firing off, I twist my hands in front of me. “Sean, I think you’re brilliant, but—”
“I’m not a fucking schizophrenic, Cecelia. These are Dominic’s rules too. You think he’s ridiculous? What about Tyler? Is he ridiculous? Have you turned on the fucking news lately? How much do you need to see to believe?!”
“No, I just—”
“Everything I do has a reason behind it. I’ve explained that over and over and tonight, what I was doing was equally as important as what I did yesterday and the day before that.”
“Sean,” I take a step forward, hating the glare in his eyes, it’s the first time it’s ever been directed at me. He crosses his arms, cutting me off from getting closer.
“It’s just… I spent half a damn day cooking for you. The least you could do was give me a real apology.”
“Oh yeah, this is about the dinner I missed, right?” He spins, jerking open the fridge and grabs his plate. He rips off the foil and snatches a fork from the drawer before shoveling barbecue into his mouth. “It’s delicious, you happy?” Tears gather in my eyes as he tosses the plate across the kitchen and it shatters in the sink.
It’s then I realize how
weak my argument is, and he looks me over, shaking his head in disappointment. “I thought you believed in me. You’re getting a lot better at lying.”
“You know I do.” I step forward and he jerks away from my touch, peering down at me with cold eyes, his face resolute. “If we’re going to continue to fight about trust, maybe we should table this.”
“What?” It’s physical, the way every word strikes me. I feel every violent blow down to my freshly painted toes.
“Us. Table this. We should break.”
“You mean break up?” Tears fill my eyes instantly. It’s at that moment that I realize how deeply I love him.
He’s dumping me because I’m throwing a fit.
At this point, it’s deserved. I went too far and insulted him in a way I can’t take back. I have zero defense.
