Page 56 of Not Another Yesterday
“No,” I say. “You have to give me something. I bet you talk to Miranda about the stuff that goes on in your head.”
And just like that, we’re no longer arguing about babies. It was never just about babies.
Confusion mixes with his angry expression. “What the hell does Randi have to do with this?”
I exhale loudly. “You obviously talk to her, Ran. I don’t get it. Why don’t you ever just talk to me? I’m your damn girlfriend, but won’t ever talk to me, but you’re okay talking to your ex? It’s unfair,” I yell at him. “Do you still have a thing for her?”
He stares at me, flabbergasted, before he runs his hand roughly over his face with a shake of his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Well, you just up and drove to Tennessee to see her.”
He looks at me, his brow creased, his eyes bouncing between both of mine. “Are you seriously worried about Randi?”
“Obviously,” I say. “You talk to her on the phone randomly; you went and spent two nights in Tennessee with her. You just up and left me a few days before Christmas without even getting my opinion on the matter. And I know you talk to her about stuff you’d never talk to me about,” I say, hurting my own damn feelings.
“You can’t be fucking serious, Cat,” he says. “You know I love you!”
“I am serious, Ronan,” I say, using his full first name. It feels weird on my tongue, unnatural, wrong. “Do you love her? Would you want kids with her?”
His mouth drops open as a myriad of emotions flash in his eyes, from bewilderment to amusement to hurt. “No, Cat. Shit, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Don’t call me ridiculous. Don’t fucking gaslight me. How do you expect me to feel any different when you never let me in? Ever!” I yell so loudly that I’m certain the neighbors across the hall can hear.
He stares at me, his eyes darkening like a rising storm, yet I don’t stop. In fact, I want to push more. Even “angry Ronan” is more than I usually get, and I will gladly take whatever breaks out of him, will gladly absorb the shock waves of his emotions if that means he’ll finally open up to me.
I take a quick breath, then continue my barrage, allowing my feelings to flow freely as I wish his would, just once. “You never, ever,evertalk to me. About anything! You kept the abuse a secret. You didn’t tell me you were struggling with thoughts of suicide. And even after you came back last year, you never allowed me into your head. You refused to talk about your grandmother’s visit—which, by the way, Iknowhas affected you. I’m not blind, you know? I’ve noticed that you have more nightmares. And, god, then you didn’t even bother to tell me about Rashana. And you know? It’s getting really fucking old, Ran. This… this not talking to me? Old.”
My body feels too small for the frustration in me. Ronan is just as tense, his hands grasping his hair as he paces back and forth. It’s eerily reminiscent of a lion roaming its steel cage.
“And I try to give you space. I want to be there for you. I know it’s not… it’s not easy, but fuuuck”—I draw out the last word—“I can’t always be the one doing the giving, Ran. It’s been like this from the moment we met. You and your damn secrets. You know how that makes me feel? It makes me feel like shit. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me. I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me, Ran. I’ve been by your damn side through it all. Don’t you think the least you could do is share your thoughts with me? Don’t you think Ideservetherealyou? Deserve to see you from all angles. I mean, you’ve seen me break apart, you’ve seen me cry, you’ve seen…everything. You know my deepest, darkest secrets, Ronan. It’s so damn one-sided and I’m so. fucking. sick of it!” I yell, my voice pitchy, serrated.
I don’t expect his next words not to hurt. In fact, I welcome it. I welcome this entire argument because it’s more than what Ronan usually gives me, at least when it comes to the painful parts of his life. This is raw. It’s real.
He rakes his hands over his face and down his throat like he can force the tension out. “What the fuck are you talking about one-sided? You keep secrets from me too, Cat.”
“Liar!”
He recoils as if I slapped him. “You don’t get to call me a liar. I’m a lot of things, but not a damn liar.”
“Oh no? How am I keeping secrets from you, Ronan? By telling you that I’m insecure about your weird relationship with your ex? Or telling you that all I want is a damn future with you?”
“I don’t know, how about the fact you sent nudes of yourself to your ex duringourrelationship?” What a low blow. I can’t believe he’s bringing this up. “And you know what? That shit I can forgive because you didn’t have a damn choice. What I can’t forgive is that you didn’t tell me you talked to Rashana.”
Pain is replaced with fresh outrage. “You didn’t tell me about Rashana either! You didn’t tell me that she tried to talk to you twice. You didn’t tell me that she talked to you on the same damn day your grandmother showed up. You hide way more things from me than I do from you,” I say like it’s a damn competition. “Me not telling you about Rashana was just giving you a taste of your own damnmedicine. Sucks having someone hide things from you, right?” My voice is undiluted venom.
Ronan glowers at me, his chest rising and falling with fitful, shaky breaths. “Yeah, it sure as fuck does. But you know what the difference is between my secrets and yours? I don’t keep mine to weaponize them against you. I don’t hide shit from you to ‘give you a taste of your own medicine.’ I keep them to make sure you’re safe.”
I throw my hands in the air. “From what, Ronan? What the fuck are you trying to keep me safe from?”
“From me! God damn it, Cat, I’m trying to protect you fromme. You’re so damn hung up on me just… breaking apart in front of you, on… losing control. You want me to be such an open fucking book for you. But you have no fucking idea how damn dangerous that is.” If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think I see devastating pain in his green eyes.
His words make zero sense to me; the anger, the hurt, the frustration are bringing me close to combustion. I bring my hands to my hair, yanking it with the Poseidon waves of emotions.
“What thefuckare you talking about Ronan? Use normal words and just. fucking. talk. to me!”
He abruptly stills, ceasing his pacing. His expression is cold, gaze icy, and it sends a shiver through me. “You want to know why I don’t want kids?”
We are both completely outside of our comfort zone, way beyond the bounds of normal conversation. It’s unnerving and scary, but god, I’m so, so angry at him, and he’s right there with me. We’re opposing poles, battling it out right here in Ronan’s living room.
