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“What is it?”
She blinks out of her trance and looks over at me. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing.”
I nearly growl at that response. It’s not nothing. It’s something, and I’m pretty pissed she won’t tell me what it is.
“Can you please talk to me?” I ask, keeping my tone polite and calm.
“What about?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What you’re upset about?”
She lifts a hand and scoffs. “I’m not upset.” I give her a look and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. I was a little upset that you didn’t show up. I felt so… so… embarrassed sitting there by myself for over half an hour!”
“I’m sorry,” I respond and stand, pacing away. Frustration at the job, frustration that I let her down again, frustration that we’re both too damn busy to be together. “I wish you worked for yourself.”
Her brows furrow, and she stands, crossing her arms. “What? What does that have to do with anything?”
I continue to pace. “Maybe if you took your client base and built your own business, you wouldn’t be restricted to lunch hours. You could make your own hours.”
She scoffs. “Wait, you’re placing blame on me? I drove twenty minutes west to meet you in the middle and lunch was your idea, not mine. This has nothing to do with my job.”
I throw a hand up, the frustration rising. “I just want you to do something for yourself for once!”
“This has nothing to do with me! I’m not the one throwing myself into fourteen-hour days, leaving no time for anything else.”
“I’m trying to make a living!” I shout unnecessarily. I know I don’t need to be yelling at her. None of it is her fault. None of it. But I can’t help it. “I’m trying to build something and make a future here, but you’re going backward. Working for someone else when you are more than capable of working for yourself, of building your own business.”
She scoffs again. “Archer, owning my own business is not some easy piece of cake, alright? I’ve looked into it, it takes years to establish a brand, it takes sacrifice. I would have even less time to fight with you if I had my own business!”
“But I could help you build it!”
“I don’t want your help!” She tosses her arms up, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.
I stop my pacing.
My hands fall to my sides as I stare at her and wonder how we got into this fight in the first place. My fucking fault. Again.
Viv swipes at angry tears, her arms folding back over her chest as she gets control of her tears.
“Hey,” I say softly, not wanting to fight. Fuck. I never want to fight with her. She’s my best friend, and I’m responsible for these tears, for this fight.
“What?” She asks quietly, her eyes off to the side, not looking at me.
I take a step closer and when she doesn’t move away, I close the distance between us. Another tear streaks down her face and I lift my hand to swipe it away, she closes her eyes at the contact.
“Baby,” I murmur, my anger melting away at the sight of her tears. I fucking hate myself. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I don’t know if I can accept it right now.” Her words have me stilling, and I wait. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I wait regardless. “I don’t deserve to be treated like shit. I understand missing a couple of dates, but you coming here yelling at me like this is my fault is unacceptable.”
I’m already nodding, knowing every word out of her mouth is right. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t have a good excuse. I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat and says, “Maybe you should go home. Get some rest.”
My brows furrow as my heart breaks right down the fucking middle. “You want me to leave?”
