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“No.”
“Talia.”
She returned the mug the nightstand, threw off the covers, and tried to get up. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She resisted, but his eyes held her more imperatively than his hands.
“Jasper picked a fight,” he said quietly but with intensity. “You quarreled. You didn’t kiss goodbye and wave him off, did you? That was a lie.”
She glared at him, breathing hard, but she would die before admitting that he was right.
“What was the fight about? You wanted IVF, he didn’t?”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t even told him I was having the harvesting procedure. I still haven’t.”
“Why not?”
“An opportunity hasn’t presented itself.”
“Bullshit. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell him. You haven’t because you’re afraid he’ll be relieved, and his relief will break your heart.”
“I’m not talking about this with you. It’s personal. Furthermore, it’s irrelevant.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so what did you quarrel about on the way to the airport?”
“It was a spat, over nothing. Nothing important.”
“It was important enough for you to nix a romantic getaway.”
“I wish I had it to do over again.”
“Well, you don’t!”
The incisiveness of his tone shut her down. She turned her head aside. He took hold of her chin and brought it back around. “Who started the quarrel?”
She pushed his hand away from her face. “I don’t remember.”
“Yes you do.”
“What difference does it make?”
“A monumental difference. It was Jasper, right?”
She remained stubbornly silent.
He was just as stubbornly persistent. “Right?”
“All right, yes! He got angry.”
“At what?”
“At me.”
“Over what?”
“Over you!”
