Page 250 of A Taste of Vanilla

“For you.”

“No.” Her voice breaks, but Halston stands straighter. “No, Warren. I don’t need options. I need the truth. I need to be the one deciding. Don’t you understand that?”

I do, too late.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t commit you to anything.”

She stares at me, the silence seeping into my bones.

Marley whispers, “Warren.”

“I meant to protect you,” I say weakly.

“I know,” she responds immediately. “But Warren, I told you a million times that I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t want to be a pawn used by men. And while I was mainly referring to my ex’s family, that means you, too.”

I don’t answer.

She steps closer. “Grant constantly made decisions behind my back.”

My body goes cold at the comparison. “Halston.”

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. “No, you don’t get to say my name like that. You’re not him, but I thought I made it abundantly clear that this is my business.”

My heart drops further.

“Grant decided what I could handle. Grant decided what version of me to show people. Grant decided what information mattered and when I deserved to know it.” She pauses, her lip trembling. “I’m done dealing with that, Warren.”

“You can’t say you care about me while controlling what information I’m allowed to have and when I’m allowed to have it.”

I look at her, understanding settling in my bones. Making the calls was one of my biggest mistakes, and I have a feeling I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting them. Because it doesn’t matter what I intended. It doesn’t matter if I wanted to protect her.

She’s a strong woman. My actions hurt her, and I’ll have to live with that.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s not enough. I know the words are far too small and the damage is way too large.

She runs her bottom lip between her teeth. “What are you sorry for?”

I look around. At my notes, my phone, and the bakery I’ve been learning to call home.

“For hurting you. For calling it protection simply because I was the one doing it.” I look at my hands. “It was stupid and selfish and if I could take it back I would.”

Halston looks at me for a long moment. I don’t know what she sees. Not enough, or too late. A man with a notebook full of backup suppliers and no idea how to keep fear for someone he cares about from becoming control. A man considered a flight risk.

Finally, she nods once. “Send me everything,” she says flatly.

“Okay.”

“Every name you contacted. Every email. Every note. Every call.”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ll tell the attorney I’m the only one authorized to discuss the lease.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll tell the suppliers the same about my accounts if they contact you.”

I nod.