He swallows hard. "I can't."
"Then you need to leave."
Miles pushes himself to his feet. His eyes meet mine. "Wouldn't you rather I leave after?"
"I'm not in the mood anymore." No matter how much my body objects.
"This is supposed to be fun."
"Yeah, well it's not fun for me anymore." I press my palm flat against his chest. "If you're not going to tell me then fucking leave."
"Meg..."
"Now."
He holds my gaze for a moment. There's something in his eyes—that same hurt I saw earlier—but he blinks and it's gone.
I press my eyelids together.
The door slams shut.
That’s it. He’s gone.
I'm affecting him.
But somehow it's not any consolation.
