Kaycee stared at the check. It was a rectangle of blue paper that represented everything wrong between them. It was his shield. It was his way of saying, I can pay you to leave me alone so you can't hurt me anymore.
She looked up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes guarded. He was waiting for her to grab it.
Slowly, deliberately, she reached out.
Hunter flinched slightly, expecting her to snatch it.
Instead, she placed two fingers on the check and slid it back across the marble until it rested against his hand.
"No," she said.
Hunter blinked. "What?"
"I said no."
"It's twenty million, Kaycee. It's more than your trust allowance for the next five years."
"I don't care."
She stood up. She walked around the island. Hunter straightened, tensing up as she approached.
She stopped right in front of him. She reached out and took the pen from his hand. She tossed it into the sink. It clattered loudly against the metal.
Then she picked up the check.
Hunter watched, mesmerized, as she tore it down the middle. Then again. And again. until it was nothing but blue confetti.
She opened her hand and let the pieces flutter to the floor between them.
"I don't want your money, Hunter," she said, her voice fierce. "I want you."
Hunter stared at the paper on the floor. He looked like he'd been slapped.
"You're... you're tearing up twenty million dollars? For a bit?"
"It's not a bit!" She grabbed the fabric of his t-shirt and yanked him closer so they were eye to level. "I want to be your wife. Your real wife. Not a business merger. Not a tax write-off. I want us."
Hunter's breathing hitched. His hands came up to grip her waist, almost reflexively, to steady himself.
"You don't know what you're saying," he whispered. "You'll get bored. In a week, you'll hate me again."
"Try me," she challenged. "Test me. Make me sign a prenup that says I get nothing if I leave. I don't care. Just... see me."
Hunter looked into her eyes. He was searching for the lie. He was searching for the trap. But all he saw was a fire he had never seen before.
"If this is a game," he said low in his throat, "it's a dangerous one, Kaycee. Because I won't let you go easily this time."
"Good," she said. "Don't."
The air between them crackled. The smell of bacon was forgotten. There was only the heat of his hands on her waist and the desperate hope in his eyes.
Hunter pulled back abruptly, breaking the contact. The loss of his touch was a physical coldness.
"I have to go to work," he said, his voice strained. "I can't... I can't do this right now. My head is spinning."
He turned and practically ran out of the kitchen.
"Hunter!" she called after him.
"Stay here!" he shouted back from the hallway. "Don't follow me. Just... stay."
The front door slammed.
Kaycee stood in the kitchen, surrounded by the confetti of twenty million dollars. She smiled.
He hadn't said leave. He had said stay.
