“I do love you, you know,” Amanda’s words held no warmth. If there was any inflection at all, it lent the phrase a lilt of accusation.

“Mmmm,” was Lance’s noncommittal reply. He didn’t look up from his homework, books spread across the couch in her family room. He didn’t need to see her rage and he didn’t want to, either.

“You just make it impossible. Are you going to look at me?” She huffed, but she knew him well enough for the question to be rhetorical. “It is your fault, you know.”

“Okay.”

Always contrary, she couldn’t simply take him at face value. She didn't want agreement, anyway. “I wouldn’t do it if you hadn’t –“

“I know.” Lance cut her off, desperate to head off the conversation cascading into existence.

“Do you?” Amanda snarled. Both vindicated and annoyed to be right again. “And yet you do it. You aren’t worth me, you know.” She expected him to know quite a bit. He did, though, so there was that. “And you make this so…”

“Difficult.” Lance finished for her, giving up and gathering his things. “I am difficult. I know. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.

"...I love you, too.”