Page 91

“Saar.” He sighs. “I care about my business. You agreed to a deal; don’t you have an ounce of integrity in you?”

“I’m not your puppet. You don’t get to dictate how I feel or what I share. You wanted a perfect image, but I’m not going to pretend I’m something I’m not just to fit into your stupid narrative. Don’t you dare talk about integrity. Part of our deal was that you won’t control me.”

He throws his arms up in exasperation. “Here we go again. No control over your life, but that doesn’t give you a free card to jeopardize our deal.”

He marches to his closet and puts on underwear.

How did things go south so fast? “The post has nothing to do with you.”

He pulls a T-shirt over his head. “You claiming you’re lonely a week after our engagement has nothing to do with me?”

Okay, he may have a point. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about the need to be someone else, to always perform. I just showed them the real me, and yes, that day I felt particularly lonely. But it had nothing to do with you.”

He balances on one foot, putting on his jeans. “You posted it after our argument in front of the shelter.”

“That’s not when… You know what?” I yank his shirt off my shoulders. “This was a mistake.” I rush to the door.

Away from this bedroom. Away from him. Away from this stupid arrangement.

“What did you expect, a happily-ever-after?” He follows me, pulling a T-shirt over his head.

I stop at my door. “Oh please, you’re incapable of happiness, and I don’t believe in ever-after.”

He snorts. “Of course not, with your daddy issues and inability to cut the cord from your brothers.”

The nerve of him. “Fuck you.”

“You just did.” He walks away, but turns before he reaches the stairs. “You can forget about setting a date now.”

“Are you for real?” My heart hammers in my temples, almost deafening me. I hug my torso, trying to cover myself, to protect myself.

“Yes, The Morrigan, as I said before, I’m not the one who needs the marriage certificate.” He jogs downstairs.

I run to the banister. “But you can’t afford a breakup either.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the situation.” He grabs his keys and wallet.

“How?” Sudden worry sneaks into my voice.

“Betsy has a brilliant plan, actually.” He taps his forehead with his hand, saluting me on his way to the front door.

“What plan?”

“I would share that—”

“But?”

He opens the door and looks up. There is no warmth to his gaze anymore. No heat. No desire. No care. Just a stone-cold expression. “But I don’t fucking trust you.”

Chapter 17

Saar

Celeste

I’m bored, Caleb doesn’t let me go to work anymore.

I like it better when he’s on your case rather than mine.