“Why do you get like that?” Sam demanded as they made their way back to the car, parked a block away from the restaurant.

Vivian rolled her eyes and she pulled the keys from her purse. “Like what?”

Sam grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back. “Come on, Vivian, you got short with everyone in there. 'I don't wanna talk about the wedding.' Do you know how that looks?”

Vivian pulled her wrist back and turned toward the car, climbing into the drivers seat. “I didn't wanna talk about it, what do you want from me?” she deadpanned, sliding the keys into the ignition as Sam slipped into the passengers seat.

Sam scoffed. “You didn't wanna- Vivian, you haven't wanted to [i]talk[/i] about it in I don't know how long!” he shouted, and Vivian ran a hand over her face. “God, it's like you don't even wanna.. like, what am I supposed to tell my [i]mother[/i] when she phones asking what's up?”

Vivian curled her lip up and glared over at him. “Who [i]cares[/i] about your mom, Sam!” she exclaimed, switching on the radio. “It's not her wedding.”

Sam shook his head. “Well, it doesn't seem like it's been your wedding lately, so..”

Vivian gasped. She stared at Sam a good thirty seconds before huffing, slipping her ring off her finger and dropping it in Sam's lap. “Not my wedding?” she retorted. “Fine.”

Vivian grabbed her bag and pushed the door open, slamming it shut and heading around the front of the car, quickly crossing the street. “Vivian!” Sam called after her