“Nothing fucking happened on my trip, okay? Nothing. We spent four days on my parents’ fucking yacht, and nothing happened. I’m sorry I’m in a bad mood, but I missed you, and you’re not acting happy to see me.” Her expression falls, and she steps backward. “Don’t do that,” she mutters. “Do what?” “Don’t blame me for your fucking issues when I asked you to open up and tell me what’s wrong. If you want to be like that, then you can leave.”
