“You’re putting up with so much crap from her and running to LA for all of this,” I retort. “How can she say that you’re not invested?”

“You really want to know?” He looks at me warily. “You never ask about any of this.” He watches me carefully. I bite on my lip, and twirl my hair nervously, everything in me wanting to push this topic away and clamp shut, but the way he’s looking at me stills me. He lifts his hand to mine, cupping it slowly and pulls my fingers from my hair with a frown. He keeps my hand in his yet uses his thumb to stroke...