Page 179 of Top Shelf

We stare at each other for a moment, both of us hurting enough that the few feet between us feel enormous, and then I walk past him toward the bedroom.

“Heidi?”

“I’m going back to my apartment. I need some space.”

His breath catches. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, until the launch. I need time to think.”

“You are leaving me?”

I turn because I need him to hear this properly, and my face crumples at how pale he’s gone. “I’m not leaving you, Viktor.”

His expression moves so fast and raw I nearly lose my nerve.

“I’ve got just over a week to get this place open, and now I have investors talking about repositioning, Pulse calling Zoe, and an interview circulating that turned my business into a marriage story.” My throat closes, but I force the words through it. “I can’t fix all of that and fix this at the same time. The studio needs everything I have right now.”

And I can’t do it here in this familiar bedroom with my shoes near his in the closet and his arm wrapped around me while I’m furious.

He says nothing, but he nods.

“Just some space,” I whisper. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Okay.”

With a sigh, I turn to grab a suitcase and start throwing things into it. My hands shake, but I keep moving because stopping would give him time to look at me, and I’m already too close to folding. My pink sparkly lamp glows from the bedside table like it has no idea our temporary apartment has somehow become the hardest place in Denver to leave.

When I unplug it, Viktor makes a sound behind me, and I look at him over my shoulder.

His eyes are fixed on it. “You are taking the lamp?”

“Yes.”

His throat moves. “Okay.”

Fuck. That almost destroys me, because he doesn’t argue or tell me I’m overreacting. He doesn’t stand in front of the door or remind me how little time is left on the lease, or on the contract neither of us has managed to discuss. He simply stands there understanding that the Pink Lady is an important piece of myself. I zip up the suitcase, and at the bedroom door, I stop.

“I don’t want us to end,” I say, voice barely holding.

His gaze lift to mine. “I do not want us to end either, min fru.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t stay here right now and fight for my name at the same time.”

When I open my them, Viktor’s face is wrecked, but he nods.

“I will be at the opening,” he murmurs. “If you still want me there.”

“I don’t know if I want you there yet,” I admit. “I need to get through this next week first.”

It’s awful to admit, but I’m so annoyed by this entire situation I need to atleast be honest. He absorbs it like a hit and pain crosses his face, but he nods.

“Then I will wait until you know.”

My eyes sting again. “Thank you.”

I walk out, wheeling my suitcase and carrying my laptop and the Pink Lady which suddenly feels heavier than anything else I own.

And it’s only once the elevator doors slide closed, that I finally let myself sob.