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"Don't turn this on Adam. I don't know what personal vendetta you have towards him but you need to knock it off," I growl, making it clear that he has crossed a line.
"Are you serious? A personal vendetta? The guy is so desperate for your attention and you're the only one who doesn't see it. Why do you think he gives me dirty looks? Why else was he so upset that I was the one who took care of you that night you found out about your birth mother showing up? He looks at you the way only I should look at you."
My jaw drops as I just stare back at him, gobsmacked. I don't want to believe him, but I would be lying to myself if I said it doesn't make any sense.
"This is about you and me. Not Adam," I manage to scrape past my burning throat.
This is not how tonight was supposed to go. I look away from him as the tears start blurring my vision.
I refuse to cry. Not here, and certainly not like this. I need to go inside and ask Tyler if we can go home. We were supposed to stay here tonight but I can't. Not anymore. I need Morgan.
The Oakley I know isn't here. He has been replaced by an aggressive, hot-headed version of himself. All I want to do is bring my knee straight up to his groin. I turn away and take massive, fast strides to the door.
"Where are you going? We're not done here," he snaps in evident frustration.
Welcome to the freakin' club.
"Home. Don't follow me. We can talk once you get your head out of your ass."
And I do the same.
My words hang in the air between us as I walk inside, my head held high. I say my goodbyes and thank Anne for the lovely dinner after apologizing profusely for the extremely embarrassing show in her backyard.
As Tyler drives us home, I desperately try to stop our fight from repeating over and over in my head.
