I roll my eyes. “Don’t start with that again, babe. That’s not why I called.”
He sighs. “Why did you call?”
I’m about to answer when I’m interrupted by footsteps drawing nearer. Their echoes bounce down the hall and mingle with the hushed whispers outside my room. The loud bang of a door slamming shut reverberates from the hallway. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I just got off from work.”
“Oh.” More footsteps tap against the floor, retreating this time.
“I have some bad news.”
My spine stiffens, a reflex to brace for impact. “What is it?”
“I canceled my flight.”
“What? Why?” I sit up.
“I think it’s best.”
He thinks it’s best? What kind of answer is that? “When were you going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. It was a last-minute decision.”
“Is it work? Did you get called in?” I know these things happen with doctors, and it’s something I’ll have to get used to.
“No, it’s not work.” The finality in his tone feels like a door closing, and suddenly I’m standing on the outside, looking in.
“Then what is it? Is it us? You don’t want to be here with me?”
He sighs. “Skylar, baby. I would want nothing more. But you know all we’ll probably do is fight. And I’m not trying to have an audience for that. I’ll end up looking like the bad guy, and then your friends will talk crap about me and fill your head with a bunch of terrible advice.”
As much as we fight, Ian is all about appearances. He’d never fight around other people. His public image is everything to him. His parents taught him that. Never air your dirty laundry. And never, ever give anyone ammunition to say something incriminating about you.
Besides, he’s not entirely wrong on how this weekend could go. Maybe he’s right. He shouldn’t come. The whole reason why I planned a girls’ trip in the first place was because I felt we needed some space from each other. But now it’s a couples’ trip, and I’m the fifth wheel.
“You’re probably right. Space might do us some good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”
“And all that.” A hint of a smile colors his voice. “We both have a lot to think about,” he adds on a somber note. “Because how things stand, it’s not working.”
“You’re right.” A weight lifts off my shoulders at his words. Things haven’t been right for a long time—no matter how hard we seem to work at it. “We do have a lot to think about. Our relationship, the wedding…”
“What about the wedding?”
“Maybe we should put it on pause,” I hesitantly suggest.
“It’s ten months away. How much more of a pause do you think we need?”
“You said it yourself. It’s not working.” My doubts are spilling out now.
“Sure, we fight sometimes. But every couple does.”
“Sometimes? We fight all the time. Aren’t you tired? Because I am.”
He’s had less patience lately. We both have. And now that I’m trying to speak up for myself more, we’ve been fighting more than not.
“Of course I’m tired. But I wasn’t talking about breaking up?—”
“Neither am I,” I cut in.