“You just spent what on groceries?” You frowned. “We needed food.” “We needed food, not ten different kinds of cheese and whatever the hell this is—fig jam?” “I like it.” Tyler ran his hands through his hair, pacing. “I’m sorry. I’m just—” “You’re stressed. I get it.” “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “I’m scared we’re gonna fall behind and I won’t know how to fix it.” Your expression softened. “We’re in this together, Ty.” He sank onto the couch, exhausted. “I know. I just want to give you everything. But I can barely give us stability