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She’d seen those papers…and the doubts had come back, the numbness had crept in, clawing up her legs, squeezing tightly around her lungs.
She’d taken the folder. She’d left.
She’d gone back to her place and read every bit of the folder.
Of course, he’d take it. The pay was…incredible. The benefits package…even more so.
And he was going to be unhappy.
And then…eventually…he was going to be unhappy with her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I-I misread this.”
Silence.
Then his lungs rising and falling on a breath. “Yeah,” he said, bending to pick up the papers, stacking them, shoving them back into the manila envelope. “You did.”
“Honey,” she whispered, reaching for him.
He leaned back. “Just…not right now, Teresa.”
He stood, papers in his hand as he stepped down off the porch, moving around the side of the house.
She heard the trash can lid open and slam closed, and he came back empty-handed and—
Fuck, he wouldn’t look at her.
“I think you should go home.”
The words…they slid through space, slammed into her heart.
“What?”
“I…I think we need a little space. Just for tonight.”
“I—no, Jeremy,” she scrambled after him, but he was already moving to the door. “You promised to take care of me. Let’s just take a second and—”
He stepped over the threshold, and fuck, but his eyes were sad. “I also promised to take care ofme,baby.”
That was maybe theonething he could say that would get her to stop.
The only thing.
He took another step back, and the hurt on his face practically eviscerated her.
But then he murmured, “Tomorrow.”
She sucked in a breath, trying to summon the right thing.
The door closed in her face.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
* * *
The next morning her phone rang.
She scrambled to grab it.
