“No.”
“Then because Julian touched my knee?”
“No.”
“Because I’m friends with someone I slept with before I met you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at me.
“Because you keep needing me to lose in order for you to feel free.”
I did not understand the sentence then.
I would later.
That night, it only felt cruel.
“I have never cheated on you.”
“I know.”
“I chose you.”
“I know.”
“I bought this house with you.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been faithful to you for four years.”
“I know.”
“Then what more do you want from me?”
“Respect.”
The word landed harder than if he had shouted.
My face went hot.
“I respect you.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“You tolerate me until my feelings interfere with something you want.”
“That is not true.”
“When I tell you something hurts me, you turn it into evidence that I’m insecure.”
“You are insecure about Julian.”
“Maybe.”
The answer surprised me.
Liam continued.
“People are allowed to feel insecure sometimes. The question is what their partner does with that information.”
I looked at him.
“You’re making me responsible for your emotions.”
“No. I’m responsible for my emotions. That’s why I’m leaving.”
I had no answer.
Behind us, the party had started going quiet.
People were noticing.
Julian stood near the living room entrance.
Our friend Hannah had stopped mid-conversation.
Mateo was pretending to examine the wine selection while listening to every word.
I hated all of them for being there.
I hated Liam for doing this during the party.
Even though, intellectually, I knew I had created the setting.
“Can we talk upstairs?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there is nothing left to negotiate tonight.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
His face changed slightly at that.
Not anger.
Disbelief.
“I’m embarrassing you?”
I heard it as soon as he said it.
The absurdity.
He had not invited my former lover into our house after a fight about that exact former lover.
I had.
He had not turned the moment into a loyalty test.
I had.
He was simply refusing to participate anymore.
I tried another approach.
“Okay. Fine. Julian can go.”
Julian’s eyebrows rose from across the room.
Liam shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“You don’t get it.”
“I’m telling you I’ll ask him to leave.”
“And tomorrow?”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Do I have to threaten to leave every time I need you to take me seriously?”
I stared at him.
“I said I’ll fix it.”
“You’re offering to fix tonight.”
“Yes.”
“I’m leaving because of the pattern.”
That word again.
Pattern.
I hated it because patterns are harder to argue with than incidents.
An incident can be explained.
A pattern has memory.
Liam picked up the suitcase handle.
I stepped in front of him.
“Please.”
That was the first honest word I had said all evening.
His face softened.
For one terrible second, I thought he might stay.
Then he said:
“I love you, Jessica.”
My chest broke open.
“Then stay.”