“Why not? What the f**k is going on?” I asked, feeling familiar frustration settling in.

And to think I had rushed back up here for this! Why had I deluded myself into thinking I wanted this drama in my life?

“Because I’m tired. I need to go to sleep. And I’m tired of talking in circles with you. I’m tired of arguing. So, can I just see you in the morning?”

She started to close the door and I braced it open with my hand.

“Not until you explain how we went from having a perfectly good night to this bullshit. Look, I get that you overreact. I get that you fly off the handle. Hell, I like that about you. It’s hot. But trying to be a mind reader ain’t my thing. I don’t do head games.”

Vivian snorted. “You don’t? Really? Then what have we been doing for the past two years, Cole, if it hasn’t been one giant head game?”

I frowned. “We fight. We get pissed off at each other. And then we make up. It’s what we do, baby,” I said softly, reaching out to cup her face. I hated seeing her sad. I preferred every other emotion to that one.

It made me feel entirely too much.

Vivian closed her eyes but didn’t pull away. I considered that progress. “Aren’t you sick of it?” she whispered.

My thumb caressed the apple of her cheek. “I could never get tired of you,” I told her honestly. Because it was the truth. No matter how many times I had her, I always wanted more.

She was the only woman I had ever met who could handle me. Who put up with me. Who didn’t expect more than I could give her. And to me, that made her pretty damn special.

So I didn’t understand what the problem was all of a sudden.

“Cole, I know you’re with other women. You don’t bother to hide it. But I can’t deal with that anymore. I can’t play the scorned woman in some elaborate f**k fantasy you have. This is destructive. It’s messed up. And it’s over.”

My heart thudded painfully. I calmly continued to rub her cheek.

“You don’t mean that, Viv. I know you,” I said, bowing my head down so I could kiss her lips. But she pulled back before I could.

“No, Cole, you don’t. You don’t know me at all. You’ve never bothered to know me,” she said fiercely.

I dropped my hand and took a step back.

“I ask you about your job. You tell me about stuff,” I supplied feebly.

Vivian crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “Then what’s my middle name?”

“Um. . .uh,” I stuttered. Crap!

“Okay, how many siblings do I have?”

“Wait! I know this,” I started but she kept going.

“How did I get this scar?” she asked, pulling her shirt down to reveal a thin, long sliver of puckered skin along her breast bone that I had licked a thousand times before. I had never thought to ask about it. It had never entered my mind.

I stayed quiet. What could I say? I had never cared to know those details about her life. That wasn’t what we were to each other. I wasn’t the guy to know about her family vacations or to go home with her at Thanksgiving. I had never pretended to be boyfriend material. So why was I being punished for it now?

I started to get mad. Really, really mad.

“I cut it on barbed wire when I was climbing a fence into a cow field when I was eleven. I had to have twelve stitches and a tetanus shot,” Vivian continued.

“That’s great, but. . .” I began but she just kept going.

“What’s my favorite food, Cole? How about the movie that makes me cry every time I watch it? No? Well, it’s Old Yeller. That damn dog gets to me. But you didn’t know that, did you? Let me try something else. Maybe something a little easier. What panties am I wearing right now?”

All right, this I could answer.

“Purple satin. The ones with the bows on the side,” I said without pausing. I grinned, proud of myself for getting something right.

Vivian sighed and started to close the door.

I pushed it open again.

“Wait, I got that one right!”

Vivian shook her head. “Yeah, you did. And you just proved my point.”

“Which is?” I prompted.

“That you don’t give a shit about who I am. You don’t care about the things I like or the stuff I’ve done. You don’t even really care about why I got upset earlier. You just care about the fact that I spread my legs whenever you want me to. You care about the color of my underwear and whether my skirt is short enough for you to get your hand up where you want it.” She placed her hand on her chest, palm flat.

“Who I am in here, doesn’t matter. I thought it didn’t bother me. But it does. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I can have sex with you and be okay with you using me. Because I tried to convince myself that I was using you too. But that’s not true.”

My mouth was hanging open unattractively but I was knocked stupid.

“I have never used you. Because every time we’ve been together, it has meant something to me. And I can’t continue allowing this to happen when you have no intention of this becoming something deeper. You’ll never do that. And I can’t keep pretending that’s okay.”

“Vivian,”I started to say. I didn’t know what would come out of my mouth next. I had no idea whether it would be to tell her she was wrong or right. I didn’t know if I would let her walk away or fight for her to stay.