Page 107 of If You Stayed

“Yes. But you’re drunk, and you look like you haven’t slept. We can talk about this—”

“My deal fell through,” he mentioned. “With the team in China.”

I nodded slowly, uncertain of what Henry I was going to get that morning. “Tamera mentioned that.”

“It was a nine-figure deal. I found out yesterday. That’s why I was acting out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Henry. But that doesn’t excuse—”

“Have some compassion, Kierra. I had a bad day. The worst day. And you expect me to just be okay after that? Listen, I didn’t mean to do what I did last night—”

“Which thing are you speaking about? The sleeping with Ramona on my birthday thing or the hitting me on my birthday thing? Which one didn’t you mean?”

He grimaced. “Both? But more so, the second thing. I didn’t mean to do what I did.”

“You mean hitting me?” I cut in. “You didn’t mean to hit me?”

He cringed at me stating what he’d done. Saying, “I didn’t mean to do what I did,” was a way for him to not use words that might make him feel guilty.

Hit me.

Hehitme.

He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale. “I thought you would be more understanding. With your job and all.” When he opened his eyes, he looked so sad. Broken. Like a lost little boy searching to find his way home again. For a moment, I felt guilty. I felt as if I saw the same broken boy who’d told me about the trauma his father had caused him. I saw the hurting soul who needed comfort. I saw the pain that he used anger to cover. I saw his pain in his eyes.

But hehitme.

How was it my responsibility to comfort the one whocaused me pain? Why was it my job to fix the broken man who time and time again took a sledgehammer to my soul?

“I can’t do this, Henry. I can’t do this,” I said, gesturing toward the dozens and dozens of flowers. “I can’t keep pretending that this life is normal. That we are normal. I’m not your wife, and you’re not my husband. Truthfully, I think you’ve known that for a long time.”

He lowered his head again before chugging the brown liquor in his glass. He poured himself another from the bottle sitting on the table.

“Where were you last night?” he whispered.

Was he even hearing the words leaving my mouth?

“I just needed space to clear my mind,” I told him, scared of what the next few moments would unlock within him. He was acting strange. Sure, I’d seen him be strange before, but he seemed freakishly quiet and calm as his hands wrapped around his glass.

“Where did you clear your head?”

“I stayed the night at Rosie’s.”

“You’re lying,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No,” I countered. “I’m not.”

His eyebrows knit together as he poured himself another glass of bourbon. “I tracked your phone,” Henry whispered. The calmness of his voice sent chills down my spine. “It’s just odd to find out that Rosie lives at the same location as Gabriel Sinclair.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “You track my location?”

He laughed. “That’s enough of a confession to me.”

“Henr—”

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