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“I really am fine,” I stress, trying to make her believe it even if I don’t. “Promise. Just a bad day.”

She’s quiet for entirely too long, like she wants to press the issue, but maybe she can sense how at the end of my rope I am. Maybe that’s why she blessedly doesn’t. “Okay, honey. But remember, you can talk to me about anything, okay?”

“I know, Mom. I promise.”

“Go get some rest. You sound like you need it. If you decide you want to do lunch, text me in the morning. But no pressure if you’re still not feeling well.”

I already know I’ll be going, no matter how much it will mess me up inside.

“Okay,” I manage. “Good night, Mom.”

“Night, hon. Talk soon.”

I close my eyes and sink down on my bed as I hang up, flopping back against the mattress as I swallow another sob. I’m usually so good at keeping it all together, but lately…lately it feels like I’m coming apart at the seams. It bothers me that I can’t even pinpoint one thing that’s the cause of it.

My phone begins to vibrate again on my stomach where I’ve dropped it, and I reach for it, frowning when I see the name there.

He’s definitely alargepart of it, if I’m being honest with myself. I consider not answering for all of three seconds before I swipe to answer, hitting the speaker button and setting the phone on my chest.

“What do you want, Ezra?”

“So many things,” he says cryptically, sighing after. “But for now, I’d like to talk about this morning.”

“I already told you,” I mutter bitterly. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear his brain recalibrating. “Then we’ll talk about work. We still have your interrogatories to go over.”

“That easy?”

“I can’t force you to talk to me about your feelings,” he says simply.

I scoff. “That implies I have feelings on the matter to begin with.”

“You’re the one still pressing the issue right now.”

I scowl at the smile in his voice. Asshole.

“Fine,” I say tightly, rolling over my bed to my nightstand to grab my laptop. I open it up to his last email, snorting when I’m reminded of his ridiculous objections as I set my phone back on my chest. “We’ll talk about work. Starting with how ridiculous your objections are.”

“I don’t know how you mean,” he answers, still sounding amused.

I shut my eyes, sighing. “For starters, you haveeightgeneral objections.”

“So?”

“We both know that the state of Texas doesn’t allow for general objections.”

“I would venture to say that they’re just frowned upon.”

I rub the space between my eyes. “You’re going to have to revisit and revise. You can’t object toeverysingle one.”

“Just wanted to make sure we had plenty to talk about,” he says, his tone slightly teasing now. It makes my stomach flip in away that makes me scowl. “Besides, I think what I’ve provided is more than adequate barring anygeneralobjections.”

“Ezra.”

“Fine. I might be willing to make you a trade,” he says nonchalantly. “I could be persuaded to remove a few.”

“And what, pray tell, would you want in return?”