“What?” I snarl as I come off the couch. “When did that happen?”

Jules seems to deflate in front of me, her anger expended by her rant. She lets out a pained breath and drops her eyes to the floor, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” I insist as my hands come to her shoulders.

She raises her face, and my stomach pitches when I see a flatness there I’ve never seen before. “It doesn’t matter because nothing can be done about it. It’s something I have to accept, and Max . . . I’m sorry but it’s just not easy to be with you sometimes.”

“Jules,” I say softly as I pull her into me. I wrap my arms carefully around her, cocooning her in safety.

She turns her head and rests her cheek against my chest. I’m partially relieved when her arms come around my waist and gather tight.

“Did you ever have something really good happen to you?” Jules murmurs as we hold each other. “Something so fucking fantastic that you start to worry about when that bubble will burst, and then you start worrying about the pain it will cause you. And you don’t want pain. You’re tired of it so you want to avoid it at all costs. So you end up not enjoying that really great thing because all you can worry about is the inevitability of its loss and what that will do to you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” I assure her.

“Maybe not,” she agrees. “But I can’t help but worrying about it constantly. I can’t help being sensitive to what others are saying, and fuck, Max . . . I don’t even want to go out in public with you. It’s just not easy, and I really need easy in my life right now.”

I don’t even know what to fucking say to any of this. I have no clue how to alleviate her worries. But apparently I haven’t heard it all, because she pulls back from me slightly and releases her hold. I do the same, sensing she needs a bit of space.

Jules steps back, puts her hands in her pockets and says, “Dwayne wrote me. He’s contacted an attorney and he says he’s going to petition the court to terminate my guardianship.”

“That will never fucking happen,” I growl, suddenly forgetting everything else that Jules just told me, and I know that this wave of protectiveness that just burst forth is not only for Jules but for those kids.

She gives me a sad smile. “It’s just another thing in my life that I have to deal with, and I will deal with it. But . . . I need to make my life easier so I can keep my head cleared. If I have to battle for those kids—”

“Are you saying you want to break up?” I cut in, needing to know exactly where the fuck she’s going with this.

My knees almost buckle when she shakes her head and says, “No. That’s not what I’m saying. But I do think things have moved so fast, and I have so many other things going on, that I’m not sure really what I want. I guess if I had to pinpoint what would be the best thing, it would be for us to maybe slow down a bit.”

“Slow down?” I ask, my tongue thick and my head spinning as to what this means.

“I need some space,” she says sadly. “I need to prioritize and those kids have to come first. So I don’t want to have to be worrying about buying ball gowns or going out to lunch with you, constantly worried if someone’s going to come up and say terrible things to me. I just need a little bit of peace in my life right now so I can focus on the important things.”

Those important things not including me, I think bitterly.

“That sounds an awful lot like we’re breaking up,” I say harshly.

“No, Max,” she says, and I have to admit, her voice sounds strong and steady. “I just want things to slow down. I don’t want to go to that gala . . . it’s just too stressful for me. And I don’t want to discuss moving in with each other. And I don’t want to go to Houlihan’s with you after a game, and I don’t even want to show my face at the arena to watch you in a game, because it stresses me out constantly worrying what people think. It stresses me out to be on guard constantly, waiting for someone to attack me, and let’s not even get into the fact I’m now worried that the kids will somehow get dragged into the spotlight and that is something I cannot ever let happen.”

I finally reach my breaking point in this crazy conversation. “For fuck’s sake, Jules. At some point you can’t lead your life worried about what others think.”

“You’re right,” she says softly. “And maybe if my life were normal, I’d have a bit more fortitude to push past this. But my life isn’t normal. It’s messy and stressful and tiring and I can’t handle one more thing. So I have to cut out some of that mess.”

“You need to cut me out ,” I throw out.

“No,” she says again firmly.

“Oh, I get it,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “You still want to see me, but you won’t go out in public with me and you won’t come to my games to support me. You only want it to be secretive, right? Maybe I come over here for dinner, or you come to my house once a week and we’ll fuck. Is that it?”

“God no,” she exclaims, taking a step toward me. “It’s not like that.”

“Let me see if I can get this straight,” I say, trying to force my voice to be calm. “You don’t want to go to any events with me, right?”

She gives a small nod of her head.

“Or out to lunch or dinner? Anywhere in public basically.”

Another nod, her mouth drawing into a frown.

“Don’t want to come to my games?”

“Just until things settle down,” she says softly.

“And just when might that be, Jules?” I murmur. “Because your life is messy, yes, but it could be that way for a very long time. Fuck . . . it might be messy until those kids turn of age and leave home. Want me to wait that long? Keep you hidden in my room and bring you out to fuck you periodically, but otherwise keep you a secret?”

“That’s not how it would be,” she maintains, her voice sounding a bit panic-stricken. “I’m not saying it right.”

“No, Jules . . . you’re saying it right. I understand. You don’t have it within you to put aside some of this petty bullshit a handful of people have lobbed your way. You don’t have it within you to focus on what matters.”