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“And that! There you go again. Are you going to hold the fact you paid for my student loans over my head until our kids put us in a retirement home?” Her cheeks blaze, anger rolling off her in waves.
“Kids? What kids? You made damn sure that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. I don’t remember you discussing that with me.”
Hurt pools in her hazel eyes. Knowing I put it there cleaves me right down the middle.
“Talia. I didn’t mean that.” I reach for her, but she snatches her hand away.
“No. You did. And you’re right.” She looks up at the fluffy lavender clouds, sniffing as she fights back her tears. “We both made decisions without consulting the other.”
A sickly silence creeps between us, like a slow, foreboding fog.
She’s given up. Maybe that’s why she sent me away, so she didn’t have to face the ugly, revolting truth: our marriage is over. Only, that isn’t the truth, because it isn’t over until she says it is.
I grip her chin softly, forcing her gaze to meet mine. “I’m home, Tally Girl, whether you like it or not.”
“For now,” she whispers. “Then you’ll be gone again.”
I drop my head, rubbing at the bridge of my nose until white spots blur my vision. “Because you keep pushing me away.”
She shakes her head. I’d take her ire over this any day. I want to beg her to scream and shout, show me the passion and fire. Instead, she glances at me with disappointment. “How can I compete with that?” She gestures toward the door. “With the screaming girls and cameras being shoved in our faces. This isn’t the life I signed up for, Tate.”
“There’s no competition, Talia. You are it.” I reach for her hand, but she jerks away. God, I just want to hold her, even for a second. “You think I want all of that?”
“You’re the one who signed the contract. Who wanted this life.”
This is going so fucking terribly. “We can fix this. Let me fix us.”
Her lip trembles. “I don’t know if you can.”
Nausea riddles me.
“You don’t mean that.” I clench my fist, the cool press of silver a stark reminder of what’s at stake. “Tell me you don’t mean that?”
A tear cascades down her cheek. The sight of it is like taking a bullet to the heart. Her gaze drops to my wrist, where the leather band of my watch tightens against my tense muscles.
Talia swipes away the evidence of her emotions. She’s always hated crying.
“You won’t even give me a fighting chance, huh? You send me away, because let’s remember, you were the one to ask for space, and the second I return, you’re ready to throw in the towel?”
A sadness sweeps over her. It’s the expression someone wears when they’re in mourning.
“Tate, I think we need to consider—”
My sudden movement silences her. I whip my hat off my head and loom over her, pleading her with my eyes, ready to fall to my knees in desperation. I can sense the word. One I refuse to hear, let alone think. This can’t be it. I can’t lose her, because without Talia, there is no Tate. She’s my once and only.
I hold her gaze captive, my fingers curling around her nape. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say it.”
FIFTEEN
TALIA
“Tate, I think we need to consider—”
Quicker than chain lightning, Tate’s in front of me, his big palm cupping my cheek. It’s tender, gentle, but like every connection between us, it’s scorching, marking my skin with an invisible brand.
“Don’t. Don’t you dare say it.” His desperate, broken voice cuts as deep as the denial streaking his face.
I can’t bear it. We can’t be connected when I shatter us. I pull away. His arm falls, and so does his face when the realization kicks in. Every atom in me protests. I’m designed to love Tate, so why am I tearing us apart? I’ve ignored the divorce papers for months, but I fear we’ve run our course, and I don’t know what there’s left to do to save us.
