Greyson takes another step forward.

“What am I supposed to do, Julia? You know full well I don’t work a typical nine to five job. To be honest, I don’t think you’d be into me if I did.”

“Ouch.” I pull back, stung. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not interested in normal. You’re bored by the usual. You’re passionate and fiery and different, and you’re drawn to other people who are the same. My passion is my work. Does it take up a lot of my time? Yes. But I love my job, too. I worked really fucking hard to get where I am. I can’t just walk away. Not after I’ve come so far.”

“You’ve come so far,” I reply steadily. “How much further do you need to go? What are you trying to prove, Grey? What are you really trying to buy here?”

He pulls back, pink creeping up his neck onto his face. “What do I want to buy? I want to buy you a house that has a yard with enough room for a swing set. A house that our family can grow into. That’s what. Total dick move, I know.”

I shake my head, my anger growing. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You have my love. I love you. I trust you. I’m offended you’d ever think I could be bought like this.”

His eyes search mine. Anger’s in them now too, along with the hurt.

I’ve hit a nerve.

“I’m not trying to buy you,” he says, nostrils flaring as he ducks to get in my face. “I’m trying to do something nice. If you don’t like the damn house, then fuck it. We don’t have to buy it. We can just tell our kid to go play in the street in front of your garage apartment or something. I’m sure that’s safe.”

I’m breathing hard. Blinking back tears.

“Don’t be stupid,” I bite out. “Yes, we need a place that’s better suited to kids. But we don’t need a place that’s this big or this new or this expensive. We need one that we can afford without you working eighty hour weeks.”

“Jesus Christ, Julia, what do you want me to do?”

“Our lives are about to change, Grey. Our priorities should, too. Work is important. But it’s not everything. It can’t be.” I blink. Hard. “Please. Meet me halfway here.”

He scoffs. “Is buying our family a house not meeting you halfway? Is that not showing you I’m committed to you and this baby?”

“It’s showing me your priorities are fucked up. You don’t contribute by throwing money at us. You do it by participating in our lives in a meaningful, consistent way. You show up to doctor appointments on time. You spend Saturdays in bed with me instead of in meetings. You don’t blow off important dates. You say you’ve searched for a house for months. But have you even looked at your paternity leave yet? Are you planning on taking any? You keep saying we’ll figure things out, but I think that’s just your way of blowing me off. I’ve spent hours in meetings with HR and my bosses and mentors trying to figure out how to make my maternity leave work without damaging my career. Days coordinating appointments and ultrasounds and reading books. Days researching registries and working on budgets for when I go on leave. And what have you done? Honestly, Grey, tell me what heavy lifting you’ve done for this baby.”