Page 6

“Can we check out the new Jennifer Lawrence movie instead of the Chris Evans one?” I ask after I get home from my one happy hour drink.

“Let’s just stick with the plan,” he says, not looking up from his phone.

I nod. “Okay. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Two movies in one weekend feels like a lot, don’t you think?”

I let out a heavy sigh, but I don’t say anything. “Can you put the screen down?”

He glances up at me, and I spot the defensiveness in his eyes before he even opens his mouth. I immediately realize my mistake.

I put it on him. I’m always nagging him about being on his screen instead of looking at me, and instead of going the screen route, I should’ve put it on myself. I need to talk to you would have sent the same message as put the damn screen down .

“You want to watch two movies this weekend which would equate to a hell of a lot of screen time, but my phone is a problem?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” I begin. “I just…I’d like to talk to you about something.”

He tosses his phone beside him with a sigh. “What?”

Okay, I guess we’re diving straight in here. “I guess I just sometimes feel like I’m making all the compromises lately,” I begin.

His brows dip. He really is handsome. His dark eyes are what drew me to him when we first met, and for a long time, things were good. But slowly we’ve started to slide backward. It seemed like the second I moved in, he stopped feeling like he needed to impress me and he started showing his true colors. The things that seemed like good characteristics at first became bad ones.

When I fell in love with his competitive nature, I thought his perseverance and persistence to win was admirable. But after three years, I tend to see the conceited side of him that will do anything to win, even if it means putting down his competitor. It’s become less about perseverance and more about feeling like he’s better than everyone around him.

When I fell in love with his dedication to me and our relationship, I found his attention sweet. But it’s morphed from sweet into controlling—to the point where I sense his jealousy when I hit happy hour for one drink with a friend. He wants all my time, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he works from home.

I also can’t help but wonder if I’m just making excuses for him.

“Here we go,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Excuse me?” I ask, my hand flying to my chest.

“You get on these soap boxes every couple weeks. You want to go see the Jennifer Lawrence movie? Fine, you win. Let’s just do what you want to do.” He folds his arms across his chest petulantly.

“I’m not trying to win the evening,” I say. “I’m trying to have a conversation about something I’m starting to see as a real issue between us.”

He blows out a breath. “I opened my home to you. I made space for you. I let you put your girly things all over the place. How am I not compromising?”

“That’s the whole problem, Owen!” I practically yell. “You opened your home to me. You invited me to live here and said it would be my home , too, but it’s not. You don’t see it that way, and you never will. And it’s small things now, letting you decide what movie we’re going to see or where I’m grabbing dinner from. What about later when we have bigger decisions to make? Like where we’ll get married or how many kids we’ll have or what kind of car we’ll buy?”

“Kids? You’re bringing kids into this now? We’re talking about a movie!” He’s yelling now, too, his tone matching mine.

“It’s a movie today, but what about tomorrow?” I ask.

“You want to have kids tomorrow?” His face is filled with horror.

“The metaphorical tomorrow!” I scream, exasperated by this entire conversation.

But the truth is yes…I do want to have kids tomorrow. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and staying in this relationship is starting to make me feel like I’m kicking that can further and further down the road.

He looks confused, so I take a deep breath and try to redirect this conversation.

“Look, I want to make this work with you, but lately I feel like your screens are more important than me,” I say.

“Sometimes they are, Vicky,” he says, his tone back to matching mine again as he lowers his voice. “It’s my job to be on screens.”

I hate when he calls me Vicky.

“Your job is more important than me?”

He blows out a breath. “You know what I mean. Sometimes work has to come first.”

“This conversation is getting off track. I just wanted to express that I’m frustrated by the lack of compromise lately. It’s like as soon as we moved in together, you stopped trying to win me over.”

“I don’t have to try anymore. I won you, babe.”

My jaw drops. “I’m not some prize that you won . I’m your girlfriend, but lately it feels like you don’t even care what I want.”

“Fine. Let’s go see your movie, then,” he says, and even though I’m getting my way, it doesn’t feel like a win…instead, it feels like manipulation on his part to somehow weasel his way into another win.

So I let him have it. I concede like I always do. “It’s fine. We’ll see the Chris Evans one. Maybe I’ll go with Mandy tomorrow so you can have some extra work time this weekend.”

“That’s not fair,” he says a little venomously.

“You’re getting your way as usual, so what difference does it make?” I ask.

“You always act like this after you go to happy hour,” he says. “Those hens squawk about how horrible I am and you come home thinking you’re not happy.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I shrug. “Or maybe they are. You know what? Let’s forget a movie tonight. I’m going back to the bar where I left my friends to come back home to this.”

I spin on my heel, grab my purse, and head out the door. I text Mandy on my way.

Me: Hope you’re still at the bar. I’m coming back for another drink.

The good news is that she is still at the bar.

Owen blows my phone up with calls and texts, all of which I ignore.

Mandy powers my phone off for me, and then I proceed to get the kind of wicked blackout drunk that’ll cause a world of hurt tomorrow but feels pretty damn numbing tonight.