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Caleb went still.
“It would’ve destroyed you… your secrets and your two lives.”
“That isn’t why—”
“Then why?”
“I wasn’t ready.”
I stared. “What?”
“I wasn’t ready to be a father in that situation.”
Something inside me cracked.
“But you told me—”
“I know.”
“You told me you dreamed about being a father.”
“I did.”
“You told me we’d try again.”
“We can.”
I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “We can?”
He stepped closer. “Blair, I love you.”
For three years, those words had been medicine. That night, they sounded like an insult.
I laughed. “Don’t.”
“I do.”
“DON’T.”
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You love what I give you. You love coming here and being adored.”
“That’s not true.”
“You love me believing every fucking thing you say.”
“No.”
“You love having somewhere to go when your marriage gets hard.”
“Blair.”
“You love having me as a SPARE FUCKING TIRE.”
