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He swallows hard. "I can't."

"Then you need to leave."

Miles pushes himself to his feet. His eyes meet mine. "Wouldn't you rather I leave after?"

"I'm not in the mood anymore." No matter how much my body objects.

"This is supposed to be fun."

"Yeah, well it's not fun for me anymore." I press my palm flat against his chest. "If you're not going to tell me then fucking leave."

"Meg..."

"Now."

He holds my gaze for a moment. There's something in his eyes—that same hurt I saw earlier—but he blinks and it's gone.

I press my eyelids together.

The door slams shut.

That’s it. He’s gone.

I'm affecting him.

But somehow it's not any consolation.