Page 8 of Covetous

My heart aches like it’s been punched. “I’m not trying to shit on your plans. But you knew about the party.”

“You always put them before me.”

His words sting like hot coals, and my hands start to shake as anger bubbles up inside me. What is he even talking about? I always put Ian first. Sometimes even before myself. I dismiss the tiny voice inside my head by shaking it away, but memories of all the times I’ve sacrificed my own wants and needs for him come flooding back regardless. “Who have I ever put before you?”

“Everyone! Graham, for one. Even though he’s been a shitty father to you most of your life.”

“So now you have something against my dad?” My fingers grip the mannequin with a force that turns my knuckles white as I wrestle it into its garments. “What did he ever do to you?”

Graham Wyatt has made a ton of mistakes, many of which he hasn’t forgiven himself for. But he’s my dad. The only parent I have left. And I’ll be damned if Ian talks trash about him.

“This is what I’m talking about. Keep that same energy for your man.”

“Let’s not pretend like I haven’t made you a priority in my life. My family knows what you mean to me, and no one has a problem with that, including my dad.”

Ian did the gentlemanly thing by asking my dad for my hand in marriage. Having charmed my entire family, Ian securing my father’s blessing seemed like a given. But unexpectedly, he withheld his blessing. I’m too young to get married to anyone—according to my dad. He wants me to finish grad school, travel, and see the world before settling down as someone’s wife. The fact that I’ve decided on a long engagement gives him some relief.

“Prove it. Give me this. Give us this. It feels like you’re not reciprocating the effort I put into our relationship. You don’t appreciate me. It’s like I don’t fucking matter to you.”

My stomach drops. “You really feel that way?”

“I’ve felt that way for a while now—ever since I proposed.” He’s not yelling anymore, which hits even harder. “You’re taking me for granted.”

I have to consider the possibility that what he’s saying is true. Affection and vulnerability don’t come easy to me. My mom and dad loved each other but in a toxic, codependent way. They were drug addicts first, lovers second, and parents third. I’ve never experienced what a healthy long-term relationship looks like.

Ian has always been better at the relationship stuff than me. His parents have been married for thirty years, and he and his siblings grew up in a sort of Huxtables universe.

I still have time to change my plans for this upcoming weekend. And I can still go out to dinner with my family immediately after the graduation ceremony. Most of our party guests are friends of Liv and Esme due to my introverted personality, anyway.

Ian wants this bad for us. And aren’t relationships about compromise? But is it really a compromise? All my man wants to do is take me away for the weekend. What kind of fiancée would I be if I faulted him for that? I can give him this.

“Okay. We’ll skip the party.”

After my shift ends, I detour across town to a new bakery, not wanting to show up at my sister’s house empty-handed. I turn off the off-ramp to access the city streets, driving past a cluster of small businesses. I’m held up by a red light, and when I glance around, I spot Victor’s customized 1969 Charger parked near a tattoo parlor called The Ink Spot. This must be where he works. Esme says he wants to open his own parlor in about a year following his current apprenticeship, as he should. I’ve seen his realism work on IG. It’s top-tier.

As soon as the light turns green, I scan the area for an available parking place, finally spotting one across the street from The Ink Spot. Before leaving the car, I text my sister, letting her know I’m on my way.

Me

On my way. Grabbing a dessert first. Any preference?

Yasmine

Something citrusy, if that’s good with you. Surf and turf okay?

Me

Yes, please!??

Yasmine

Cool! I’ll let Hunter know.

Me

Is my baby awake?

Her next text is an image of Liam looking adorable yet pitiful, with big fat tears in his eyes.

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