Dinner was horrible. Seconds, minutes, and over an hour ticked by, and all I wanted to do was go home. My mother chatted with Kathleen while my father chuckled at James's jokes. The scene in front of me only reiterated how much our lives and families were intertwined, how much our families got along and loved each other.

I rubbed at the back of my neck as the chummy scene felt like my walls were closing in, choking me, forcing air from my lungs. But I had a plan. I had planned to formally and finally end my relationship with Roland, discuss the logistics of our apartment and our belongings. Then I had planned to break it to my parents, but Roland had deterred those plans tonight, a grand detour that had led me into this deep ditch.

Tene was talking to Roland, and when his phone vibrated on the table, we both stared at it. His gaze flickered to me first before landing back on his phone. It was as though I could hear the wheels turning in his head. To pick it up or not pick it up ... that was the question. But I already knew what he would do. What he would always do.

When he didn't budge, and it went to voice mail, he seemed to relax and turned to Tene once more. And then it rang again, and he sat straighter in his seat. He cracked his neck from side to side while his hands twitched at the end of the table.

"You can pick it up, Roland." I needed to put him out of his misery. It was just as tortuous watching him watch his phone.

"I need to run to the washroom anyway." He stood without giving me a second glance back.

This. Coming here. Was a mistake. All of this was giving him hope, and more guilt rose within me. I couldn't win.

When Roland left, Tene jumped in his chair. "You know you can no longer handle this property, right?"

"I'll be fine. Everything will be fine," I said. My whole body and mind were numb. How could I come into this bar and talk to Cade about business when I had clearly crossed that professional line?

I'd failed in every possible way—in my love life, with my family, at work.

She placed a hand on my knee. "It's okay. I'll talk to Dad."

My life was turning upside down. I wanted to show my father I could handle Armstrong Realty, the downtown properties, the more lucrative tenants. Not cave in and sleep with the hottest tenant. "Can we just not tell him? Please?" My father had so much faith in me. If there was anyone in the world I didn't want to disappoint, it was my father. "It'll be business as usual when he leaves. I told you I can handle it."

Her eyes were cautious.

"Please, Tene."

Tene pinched her bottom lip, her look pensive. She reached for my hand under the table, gave it a little squeeze, then nodded.

When Roland tapped the chair, Tene scooted over to make room. He snaked an arm around me, but I distanced myself.

"Did you take care of what you needed to take care of?" I asked.

"Yes. And that's not important. What's important is that we’re getting to the very exciting part of the evening. Your favorite part." He smirked.

When I glanced up, Cade was trudging toward our table at an incredibly sluggish rate. He held a chocolate cake in his hands, lit with candles.

Roland stiffened beside me and angled closer, his arm protectively slung over the back of my chair.

When Cade locked eyes with mine, my stomach rolled, causing nausea to hit my acute senses. His mood had changed like a flick of a match.

He smiled, which seemed to indicate that his anger had dissipated, but it was his eyes; his eyes gave him away. The eyes that held so much mischief were tinted with sadness.

He placed the cake in the center of the long glass table, his arm was just a few inches away from mine.

The night of my real birthday flashed through my thoughts. Making cake. Making love. New beginnings.

A gush of emptiness filled my veins as the cake's candles lit everyone's face around me.

Though Cade didn't touch me, the heat from his closeness was only amplified when he leaned into me and whispered, "Happy birthday. Cake may mean the beginning of a new year, but when some things begin, other things end."

I drowned into the eyes that held such woeful sorrow. Something passed between us, and I tore my gaze from him, watching everyone's reaction around me. The start of everything that was exhilarating and new had ended tonight. We both knew it.

When Roland coughed, breaking the silent tension, Cade pressed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Sorry about earlier. I've had a rough night." He shook his head before glancing at me one last time and walking away. And then the singing began.

Both of our families clapped along as everyone's eyes zoned in on me. The only person not smiling was my mother. Her eyes flickered between me and Cade walking toward the bar. I wondered if she saw things, if she knew things. And the wondering had my blood turning to ice.

When the chorus died down, and the ringing in my ears ceased, Roland leaned into me. "Make a wish, birthday girl."

I took a silent moment, and, as I blew out the candles, I wished for the one thing, the only thing I wanted. I wished for him.

* * *

After cake, Roland paid the check, and when everyone stood, I followed all of them outside.

A sense of relief washed over me as I turned to Roland's family to bid them farewell. Kathleen's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me into her. "Happy birthday, my beautiful girl." Guilt rose within me as I embraced her. She pulled back and palmed my cheek. "Roland told me you were having some issues lately. Be patient with him. He loves you. I've had to deal with the same from his father for years. They're married to their work, dear. It's built into their DNA."

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they did the opposite to my heart. When I glanced at James Spencer, I noted he was head deep into the screen of his phone. His sandy brown hair matched Roland's, and I realized they were much more similar than Roland wanted to acknowledge. Didn't he know the one person he had such animosity toward was his spitting image?

“Issues? What issues?” my mother asked. She slipped her arm around my waist next. “Fights are normal in every relationship. It’s just little tiny blips in your endless years together.” She touched her cheek against mine. “Nothing a little birthday party couldn’t fix, right? You have got one sweet boyfriend. Happy birthday, honey.” She patted my hand, then strolled toward the car, leaving me a heaping, frightful mess.

They’d never accept my decision to leave Roland. They thought he was it for me.

My father approached, walking over with his cane. His color was a little off, and my eyebrows pulled together, assessing him.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?” he smiled. “The question is, are you okay?"

I blinked, and it took a few seconds to answer. “Better than ever.”

"You wouldn't be lying to your dad, would you?"

I bit my lip and wanted to cry because he looked at me with eyes that saw all. But he had enough to worry about, and I wasn’t about to add another problem to his list.

"No, I'm fine, Daddy, really." There was a sourness in the pit of my stomach, and I dropped my lashes quickly to hide the hurt.

"I think you're lying, but since it's your birthday, I'm going to let it pass."

When he pulled me in, I hugged him tighter and snuggled into his Santa-Claus chest, wishing that I could keep him safe forever, free from any stress. Maybe if he wasn't sick, I'd be able to confide in him because we'd always been close. Maybe I could’ve asked the most important man in my life—the one I adored, the one who kept our family together—maybe I could’ve asked him what I should do with my situation with Cade.

He stepped back but not before I took him in, everything that was my father—his warmth, his love for me and his family.

My earliest memory of my father was me riding on his back. I was four years old and had cried because I'd wished for a pony for my birthday and didn't receive one, and it was my father who’d stepped up and saved the day, cheering me up by being a papa pony.

He reached for my hand and squeezed. "I hope you made a good wish. You won't get another one until next year."

And I squeezed his hand right back just as tightly. "You know me. I always count my blessings and have never wasted a wish."

Roland ushered me back to his car, opening the door and shutting me in. My mind was tormented with thoughts and feelings and ideas of what I wanted, what I was going to do next, how I was going to set my life straight.

When Roland placed a hand on my thigh, I snapped out of my thoughts. Terrible thoughts because my mind was on another man when Roland sat directly beside me.

"After I pick up some of my things, I’m going back to the condo tonight." The way I said it, he knew that I didn't mean our condo.

"What? Why?" Roland asked, braking to a stop and pulling to the side of the road.

"Because that’s where I’m staying."

When I didn't budge or move or break my gaze from his, he blew out a breath.

Roland was pissed. Pistol pissed, if he had one.

He had never been the vocal fighting type, but when he went silent, he was trying to calm himself down.

His eyes were resolute. "Your tantrum has gone on way too long."

My whole body stiffened, and I jerked back. "Tantrum?" I blinked. He thought I was kidding, that I couldn't possibly leave him, that it wasn't in me. I wasn't strong enough. Did he think that I'd moved out and told him it was over again and again to prove a point?

Of course, he did.

Because according to him and everyone else, Angelica Armstrong was unable to make her own decisions.

"I promise you this is not a tantrum.” I snapped. “Your birthday dinner is days late."

He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, causing me to flinch. After weeks and weeks of tension, I finally got a reaction out of him. Finally.

His laughter held a sharp edge. "You're going to throw years of our relationship down the drain? For what? Me, trying to do better for us? For us, Angie! For fucking us! I do everything for this relationship, for our future, and you're going to break up with me because of that?"

I fisted my hands in my lap, my nails biting the insides of my palms. "You're blaming me for our failed relationship?" Calm composure was replaced with aggravated fury. "This was not one event or one day. This has been many events across multiple months, years of broken promises and me waiting and hoping and wishing that things were going to change, but they haven't, and I’ve come to the realization that they never will.” I stared at him long and hard. “Don't lie to yourself and say you're doing this for us when you're blind to the fact that you're doing this for you."

He shook his head, not wanting to hear me. "You're ridiculous."

"Your job, your desire for power and to move up in the workplace, have trumped any love for me. I'll always be second best, and I'll never have a say in this relationship. You're always going to dictate what's important, how we live, and that's not how I want to live going forward."

"You're mad, and you're just spewing words you don't mean." His face was dismissive, and my insides burned with fury.

Though I'd spoken my mind, here he was, still telling me what I was thinking, and I'd had enough. He wasn't listening to me anymore. We weren't listening to each other. I pushed open the door and stepped out.

"Angie, get back in." His voice roared with authority.

"No."

He stormed toward me and gripped my upper arm, jerking me to a stop.

"Let me go."

"Stop this," he commanded.

"I've stopped. You are the one that wants to keep going. I'm not in love with you anymore, Roland! It's over. Let. Me. Go!" I yanked myself from his grasp and half ran down the block.

"Angie! Get in the damn car." I ignored his calls, his commands to come back, just like he'd ignored my pleas for attention—his attention—for months. "Angie, I'm not coming after you this time."

I flipped around, eyes hard. "When have you ever come running after me? When, Roland?" Then I walked faster into the dead of night. I didn't have to turn around to know that Roland wasn't behind me.