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“Don’t answer that. It’s rude,” he scolds, glancing around like he’s caught me whipping out drugs and not my mobile.
I glance at the screen, seeing Mum’s name. “It’s my mum.”
“She can wait. This is about our future. She’ll understand.” He takes my phone from me, placing it next to his knife and fork. I bite on my lip, staring at the phone like I can will it to me. How dare he! I ignore a lot of things when it comes to him because he loves me. In a small way, I love him too, but lately, he’s been cocky, pushing boundaries he never pushed before, and I’ve had enough of it. I pull myself from my thoughts, realising he’s still rambling. “What do you think? Should we move in to mine or yours? Yours is a little small and might be a little embarrassing for your new job. They expect you to be—”
I shake away my anger, meeting his gaze. “I’m not moving out of my home.”
“Why would you not want to move in to mine? It makes no sense. Mine is far nicer.”
His parents bought him his obnoxious home as a gift when he passed his first year of law school.
“I’m not moving in to yours either.”
“Oh, I get it. You want to find a house that is ours. I mean, it’s doable. My parents won’t—”
“No, I mean—” My phone begins to ring again, and I bite my bottom lip. My mum only ever calls continuously if it’s something important. “I really should get that.”
“Call her after,” he demands. “This is about our future, for Christ’s sake.”
“Zach, this isn’t working,” I snap, snatching the phone off the table.
“Christ, if it’s that important, just ring her back. I thought today was about us.”
“No, it’smybirthday thatyou’vecompletely high-jacked.”
His eyes narrow into slits. “Fuck’s sake, Imogen. I’m trying to do something nice, something most guys won’t do, and you’re being ungrateful.”
“I’m being honest. There’s a difference. I told you I didn’t want to do anything with you today because I celebrate it with my family. You didn’t listen.”
“Are you seriously trying to put all of this on me? I did something nice, Imogen. Can’t you just say thank you and enjoy our meal? I think our anniversary is more important than anything else right now.”
I tuck my hand under my thigh to stop myself from punching him in the face. If he was anyone else, I would have already knocked him out. But it’s Zach. We have history. And he’s always been there for me.
My phone rings again, and dread fills my stomach. He quickly snatches it, answering it. “Hello, Mrs Smith, it’s Zach. Can Imogen call you back? Thank you.”
He didn’t even let her speak. I heard her answer, “Thank God, Imogen,” before he took over the call.
I snatch my phone from his hand and grab my coat from the back of my chair. “We’re done.”
“You keep letting them control your life. You need to grow up, Imogen. All your family take up so much of your time because you let them.”
“No, they don’t. I give them my time because I love being with them. And they love me. Believe it or not, Zach, some of us love our family.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, his voice high-pitched.
“It means you treat your parents like a cash machine. And they give it to you because you are an only child, which is probably why you don’t understand my relationship with my family.”
“You know what, I don’t have to listen to this. I do everything for you, Imogen. I offered to pay your bills whilst you were looking for a new job.”
“No, you did it so I didn’t take up my dad’s offer of working for him,” I correct harshly.
He scoffs. “I’ve been with you through everything and this is how you treat me. You know what it’s like to be hurt by someone you care about. Yet you stand there, breaking my heart.”
I stare him in the eyes, feeling his words down to my core. He’s supposed to love me, yet he hurts me every chance he gets. I’ve brushed it off so many times, but he tears me apart every time he uses a tally chart to compete in our relationship. “Yeah, I do know what it’s like.” And I hope he catches on to it meaning him. Because he has—is—hurting me.
I walk away, weaving in and out of the tables, being careful not to knock into anyone in my haste to get out of here. Tears of frustration burn my eyes. Why, out of everyone, is he the only person I allow to treat me like this? I know I haven’t exactly been honest with my feelings, but I don’t break him down until he feels like crap. I’ve worked hard to make this work, to keep us together, but he pushes back every single time.
I hit the doors, rushing outside of the restaurant as my phone begins to ring. I take a breath, wanting to calm my racing heart. But suddenly, Hayden Carter pulls up with Clay driving in a dark blue car, music blasting, and my heart begins to race once again.
