“It was mine,” I said quietly, my voice tight. “You didn’t even ask.”
He finally looked at me, sighing like I was a burden. “Erika. Be real. You probably bought it with my card anyway. What’s yours is mine, right? Why are you making this a thing?”
“No. I didn’t buy it with your card,” I snapped, hurt flooding my voice. “I bought it with my own money. Money I earned—on my own.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Doing what?”
“I’ve been designing again,” I said, my voice shaking. “Freelance. Quiet jobs. I’ve been saving for five years. That necklace… it was the first thing I bought for me in a long time.”
Kier scoffed. “Designing? What, kitchen aprons and pillowcases?”
I took a step back.
“You really don’t know me at all anymore, do you?”
“You’re being dramatic,” he muttered. “It’s just a necklace. I’ll get you a new one.”
“It was limited edition,” I whispered. “And I was going to wear it today. I was invited to a fashion show. I wanted to look like the woman I used to be, even for a day.”
Kier’s laugh cut through the air like a whip. “You? A fashion show?” He shook his head. “Erika, let’s be honest. You’ll be laughed at.”
I froze.