Page 77 of The Deals We Make

But maybe I am getting too old for this shit.

I can suddenly see the flicker of a life I could create. One with Ti. In my head, we’re in some nondescript place, but it isn’t California, and it isn’t New Jersey. Just some random beach in some random place where we walk a dog and laugh.

“Okay. Good,” Becca says. “I’m going to bed. I’ll call you when I’m awake.”

I hang up and place my hand to my chest. The idea of giving up everything I have for a dog and Ti… Jesus. Do I even want a dog?

How can I even?—?

“When were you going to tell me you had a stalker?” Ti asks.

Since I’m already reeling from my little revelation, the question immediately puts me on the back foot. “I’m taking care of it.”

“You need to be telling me shit like that.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m capable of looking out for myself. Have for a really long time. And this”—I gesture between the two of us—“is so new, it’s still got the fresh-paint smell.”

I don’t know why I say that when I was just imagining the two of us with a dog and a beach and a life. I try to think of the words to explain why I feel so spooked by the vision I just had.

Ti glares at me. “Not sure what you’re trying to do here, apart from hide shit from me. Again.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I didn’t hide anything last time. I told you what I was planning to do. You knew enough abouthow I was going to do it that you were able to stop me. So, what exactly did I hide?”

“That a bunch of Outlaws came to your house and assaulted you. You should have told me that day.”

“We discussed this,” I say, trying to find some calm.

“You didn’t trust me to save you, to figure it out with you then. And you don’t trust me to figure this out with you now.”

“That’s not true, I...”

I what? How is this hurtling out of control?

He looks at the food on the counter. “I’m gonna eat at the club. And make sure you get a cab home.”

I hear the hurt in his voice and am still trying to think of what to say when he walks away and leaves the house.

I wish he’d slammed the door. Something. Instead, he’d closed it softly like Mrs. Williams always made us do.

“Fuck,” I say, then let out a breath.

Just when I thought we were making progress.

Not sure I really ever wanted a pet, but it looks like my chances of having one with Ti just went up in a puff of smoke.

I put the food back into the fridge. I’m not really hungry.

It takes me ten minutes to put my clothes on while simultaneously hoping Ti comes back so I can talk to him. I don’t have his phone number to text him, and for a moment, I consider snooping until I find a bill with it on it.

But then I realize that’s maybe where I keep going wrong. To do that would be a massive invasion of his privacy.

My phone rings. It’s Orson. Desperate for a distraction, I answer it.

“What’s up, Orson?” I say a touch more aggressively than I meant to.

“Sorry to bother you, boss, but we caught a lead on your stalker.”

This grabs my attention from looking at the doorway Ti walked out of. “What is it?”