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Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Shea Riley walks out on her two year relationship with Keller Maxwell in hopes of shocking him into realizing love can’t be taken for granted. Her glimmer of hope begins to fade as weeks pass without a word from him.
Problem is, she still loves him—and she’s pregnant with his child. She knows he deserves to know he’s going to be a father, but how will she ever know he truly loves her if they don’t fix their relationship before he knows about the baby?
Keller Maxwell’s fists clenched in frustration as he followed Shea Riley across the living room toward the door of their apartment. “Is this about the stupid chores again?” He did his best not to yell, and yet his voice still rose. “Because I don’t hang up my jacket exactly where you want me to? Or I take my boots off by the couch?”
She shook her head without turning around. “This goes way beyond your stupid jacket and boots. If you don’t get it by now, I don’t think you ever will.”
“So you’re just leaving? That’s it? We’re not even going to talk about this?”
“You mean talk about it again?” She shifted her suitcase to her left hand and reached for the door with her right. “We’ve had the same conversation over and over again for the past two months and nothing has changed. There’s nothing else to talk about anymore.”
He closed his hand over hers on the doorknob before she could twist it open. “I don’t even really know what the hell the problem is.”
She raised her gaze to his, her green eyes swimming in tears. “And that is the problem. By now, you should know.”
His chest constricted. “Except I’m not a mind reader, Shea. If you don’t tell me what to do to make this better, I don’t know what you expect of me.”
“Wow.” She shook her head. “Actually listening to me at some point would’ve been nice. I’m tired of being the only one putting effort into this relationship.”
She yanked the door open and walked out, her long chestnut hair swaying against her back with each stride she took away from him. She hadn’t even grabbed her own coat.
He waited for her to hesitate. Or at least look back. When she did neither, he slammed the door and turned to lean back against the wood. Raising his hands, he fisted his fingers in his hair. Damn it. She’d been moody and emotional for weeks, and hell if he could figure it out.
She said it wasn’t about him not picking up after himself, and maybe it wasn’t. Because the last time she’d griped about his stuff, he’d done what he could to please her for a few days at least, and it hadn’t mattered one bit. So much for effort.
When it didn’t seem to improve her mood, he resorted to staying longer at work. He’d thought if he gave her time and some space, she’d get over whatever was bothering her and things would go back to normal, like usual.
This time had not been like usual, but he’d never expected her to just pack a bag and leave.