He looked down.
I already knew the answer.
“When everything was finalized?”
Silence.
I laughed softly.
“Wasn’t it already finalized?”
He didn’t answer.
I held up the folder.
“You signed something.”
“It’s an employment agreement.”
“That’s a nice way of saying it.”
“Chelsea…”
“How long?”
“Four months.”
I stared at him.
“Four months?”
“I didn’t know whether I’d get it.”
“But you applied.”
“Yes.”
“You interviewed.”
“Yes.”
“You negotiated.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
“You accepted.”
His silence answered for him.
I nodded slowly.
“So you made every major decision before I even knew there was a decision to make.”
“That’s not fair.”
I turned toward him.
“Not fair?”
“I was trying to figure things out.”
“Without me.”
“I knew you’d be worried.”
“That’s your excuse?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
His jaw tightened.
“I thought you’d say no.”
Those six words hurt more than I expected.
I looked at him.
“That’s why you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought if I showed you a finished plan, you’d understand.”
“A finished plan.”
I repeated the words slowly.
“You mean your plan.”
“Our plan.”
“No.”
I pointed at the boxes.
“You chose the job.”
I pointed at the folder.
“You chose the state.”
