difficult questions about my sobriety and my miscarriage and reveal parts of my pain and torment that I’ve not told anyone…even my brother”—I lean forward, my hands on my hips just like my mum when she has a go at my dad—“and you get to sit there and hide from me?”
“I’m not hiding from you.” He stands up to face me. “I’m right in front of you.”
“Then tell me what’s going on because I can see in your face and your mother’s face that you’re not telling me something!” I toss my hands out to my sides. “If our love is real, you would share every part of yourself with me.”
“Can you not just love me for who I am now?” he asks, his eyes flashing with a level of pain that I’ve never seen before.
I inhale a shaky breath because I see it now. He’s different. Something in him is more guarded and withholding. He wasn’t like this with me before. My voice is soft and unsure when I reply, “But you wanted to tell me something a few weeks ago. You said you did. Something you’ve never told anyone.”
“Things changed.” His eyes narrow with determination.
Fear and insecurity trickle into my belly. “Is it me? Do you not want me anymore?”
“Tilly, of course I want you. I fucking love you!” he growls. His temper boils over, causing the veins in his neck to swell angrily. “It’s because I love you that I don’t want to go there with you. You don’t need to know this.”
I swallow the painful knot in my throat, feeling like his words are shallow and meaningless. “So, because you love me, you get to decide what things to hide from me? What kind of love is that?”
He bends over to pick up the basket. “I think we should go.”
“No!” I yank the basket out of his hand and toss it into the grass, forcing him to look at me. “I’ve cut myself open and bled for you, Sonny. You got to be the bandage that mended me. Now you won’t let me even see your wound?”
“Just drop it.” His jaw muscle tics angrily. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Santino, whatever it is, I can take it.” I’m verging on desperation now, but it feels like he’s slipping out of my fingers. “I’m a big girl. I’ve handled a lot in my life.”
“And you don’t need this on top of that,” he barks, his voice deafening in the large wilderness. “Don’t challenge me here. Not this time. You have to trust me on this.”
“But you’re not trusting me!” I cry, my eyes welling with tears at that painful realisation. The one thing I loved most about my relationship with Santino was feeling normal again. Feeling not broken and respected. Hell, even him having a beer with my brother the other night made me feel like he’s one hundred percent confident in me and my strength. But this entire situation has thrust me right back to the mess of a person I was when I was taken advantage of by a complete stranger. And I’m not that girl anymore.
I step into his space, causing his body to bow over mine as emotion radiates between us. His eyes are slits as I stare up at him. “I don’t need you to protect me or save me or fix me, Santino. I am your equal. I thought you knew that, but the way you’re acting now reminds me of the man who stood on my doorstep and tried to save me five years ago. And if you don’t trust me, then there’s no need for us to be together.”
He flinches like I’ve just slapped him, and the pain in his face hurts my heart, but I have to be strong. I have to demand respect because whatever he’s giving me right now…isn’t that.
Shock, disgust, pain, and resentment flash over his face like a film montage. So many emotions, I’m not sure what will come out of his mouth next. His voice is guttural when he replies, “So that’s it then? You’re going to cut and run just like before? Same old Tilly?”
Tears sting my eyes because his response confirms that he doesn’t see me like I thought he did. And if I haven’t earned his trust by now, I’ll never earn it. And I’ve worked too hard, and I’ve come too far to let someone make me feel unworthy of their whole heart, only offering me the selective scraps