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“Not with you. Brad used my mother to access her trust fund—kept her around, strung her along—just like you plan to do with a kid of your own.” My jaw set. “I don’t care how much money the precious bundle unlocks. There’s no way bringing a kid into this would be good.”
Aya stared at me for another long minute, and I watched darkness bleed into her eyes. “This? You mean our relationship,” she said.
“We don’t have a relationship,” I snapped. “Not if you lie to me.”
She flinched as if I’d struck her. “Mama Grace said you might react badly, but I didn’t expect—”
“You talked to Mama Grace about the will? Who else knows?”
She dropped her gaze. “Jenna, Kate.” She raised her eyes to meet mine.
I growled. “So, everyone knew but me?”
She clutched the sheet between her fingers. “No. Not everyone. And I’ve been trying to find a time to tell—”
“I was the only one who needed to know.” I fisted my hands. “What else have you kept from me.”
“N-nothing.”
“Bullshit. Once a liar, always a liar.”
She raised her chin. “I was scared to tell you. I didn’t want you to misunderstand since we’d already had a conversation about children. And you’re reacting even worse than I thought—”
“Don’t tell me how to react. You came back here to use me.”
Her eyes widened, and hurt flared deep. “Nash, you’re not making sense. I came back here because I love you. Because I wanted our chance—”
“Then you should have been honest with me,” I shouted. The tendons in my neck tightened.
“I should have,” she said. “I was going to tell you…”
I snorted. “Doesn’t matter because I’m not going to let you manipulate me. I’m done with that.”
A harsh laugh burst from Aya’s chest. “My mum loved you. She never would have intentionally hurt you. But she did try to protect me from my father. That’s why you were written into the will. She wanted things to turn out the way that made me happy. Funny that you were the one I needed protecting from, isn’t it?”
I scoffed. “Don’t turn this around like I did something wrong.”
“Why? Because you don’t like hearing that you hurt me? You’re not being rational right now.” Aya rose from the bed and stepped away from me. I refused to acknowledge her trim legs and the satiny nightie she wore. She turned toward the door.
“So, go then. Run off,” I taunted. “Hide. Just like you always do.”
She met my gaze long enough for me to see more hurt bleed into the violet, darkening it to black before she smiled. But it was filled with thorns and poison. “I thought you’d changed. I thought you were trying. I thought we had a chance. More fool I.” She strode from the bedroom.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” I yelled as panic gripped my chest, overriding the anger, bringing everything back into sharp focus.
Aya stopped in the doorway, partially in shadow, but I could make out the gleam in her eyes. “You’re the one who said you were done. And maybe you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t try anymore.”
A few moments later I heard the alarm chirp. I ran to the windows in time to see my Tesla’s taillights swing out toward the street.
I dropped my head in my hands and tried to breathe through all the emotions buffeting me.
She’d left me.
I picked up the end table and flipped it. When that didn’t make me feel better, I ripped the sheets off the bed. My chest heaved as I stared at the mess I’d made—and not just of my bedroom, though it was now an explosion of ripped sheets and broken furniture, the splinters bared and ugly for all the world to see.
She’d left me.
Again.
